Page 47 of From LA to London, With Love

My heart softened hearing the worry in his voice. I took a deep breath, trying to stop my voice from wavering. “What did…what did you just say before? Something about chocolate?”

Chris went bright red. “I said…I said, ‘I want to drizzle chocolate all over you and lick it off.’ God, sorry. Shit, I obviously need to work on my dirty talk game. It’s just something I’ve enjoyed doing in the past. But that’s totally fine if you’re not into it. ” His face was now the color of beetroot.

I breathed out. Thank god.

Now it was my turn for blood to rush to my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought you said something offensive…and it threw me.”

Chris let out a breath and put his arm around my waist. “Hey, no need to apologize. I didn’t say it very clearly—I got a bit overexcited and was trying to talk while kissing you at the same time, which was obviously overambitious. And it was a bit of a weird thing to say. I’m just glad you told me what was wrong. And please call me out if I do say anything offensive. I can be pretty stupid sometimes, like the whole assuming you’re gay because you’ve had a girlfriend in the past thing.” He grimaced apologetically and gave me a squeeze.

I squeezed him back.

Chris’s tone lightened, and he gave me a mischievous grin. “So…I know I fucked up the delivery, but in all seriousness, what are your thoughts on melted-chocolate play?”

“It sounds…delicious, if a little messy. I’m up for it, as long as I get to lick some off you as well. But can we take a raincheck? The chocolate mix-up has killed my vibe.” The moment had well and truly passed for me.

“Of course. All of this talk of chocolate has got me hungry. Or maybe I was hungry and that’s why I was channeling chocolate play to begin with. Either way, I’ve got a block of Lindt in the pantry we could have, direct from the packet rather than off each other. You keen?” Chris smiled tentatively.

My stomach rumbled. I’d had a cheese toastie for dinner before Chris picked me up, and that was hours ago. “Yes, please!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

SOPHIE

“HEY SOPH, LOOK at this!” Josh, sitting next to me on the floor at Pride House, waved a sculpture of a nude male, with chiseled abs and his anatomy shown in graphic detail, in my face. He lowered his voice, a salacious smile on his lips. “Is this kinda how Chris looks naked?”

I glared at him. “Shut up!” I hissed. On our walk over to Pride House, I’d told Josh what had happened on Saturday but had sworn him to secrecy.

At this point, I really didn’t need any more reminders of how Chris looked naked. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. About the feeling of his firm lips on mine, about my hands running over his body, about what would have happened on the night of the premiere if I hadn’t cut things short.

I looked around, hoping none of the teens who were helping prepare for the auction had heard. Luckily, they were engrossed in sorting through the random assortment of items that had been donated for the auction. I breathed a sigh of relief and continued to work through the pile in front of me, trying not to think about Chris. Bottles of wine, golf clubs, a free drag makeover, a voucher to have a portrait of your pet painted wearing renaissance clothing. I grinned. Alfie would look incredible in frills. Could I bid on things as the auctioneer? It would probably be a conflict of interest. My heart warmed seeing the enormous pile of donations we had received. The community had really come together to help save Pride House.

The dress I’d worn on Saturday night was hanging on a rack, freshly dry cleaned, ready to be auctioned off as well. Donating it to Pride House had made sense—much better than it sitting in my wardrobe, gathering dust. I stared at it. It was hard to believe that only three days ago, I was walking down the red carpet wearing it, cameras blazing, with Chris by my side. Before I knew it, a vision of Chris throwing the dress off and kissing my neck threatened to overwhelm me. Holy crap. Vivid flashbacks to Saturday night kept hitting me at the most inopportune moments, driving me wild. I’d be doing the washing or eating my breakfast, and suddenly our bodies would be pressing together, our mouths hungrily devouring each other.

But then, reality would hit. Even though I’d had a crush on him for so long, I’d never seriously considered the possibility that it was mutual. I’d got so caught up in the moment on Saturday night, I hadn’t thought through the consequences of…whatever was happening between us. I didn’t know what he wanted. I didn’t even know what I wanted. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like any kind of non-platonic relationship with Chris was a bad idea. I’d never been good at “friends with benefits” relationships, and dating…

Well, I couldn’t see myself as celebrity girlfriend material, jet-setting around the globe, attending premieres, and shopping regularly in stores that offered champagne on arrival. And where would Elliot fit in all that? We were from very different worlds. And he was going back to LA in a few months anyway.

I noticed some teenagers had stopped sorting and were hunched over their phones, murmuring.

“Hey, Sophie, no way. Is this you?” Ben, a sixteen-year-old with blond hair and eyebrow piercings, put his phone right in front of my face.

I pulled my head back and let my eyes focus. It was a photo of me and Chris at the premiere, his arm around me.

I winced. “Yeah, that’s me.”

The other teenagers leaped up to look at the photo and started peppering me with questions. Yet another reason why having a relationship with Chris was a bad idea—the lack of privacy.

“What? Wow! You know Chris Trent?”

“Are you guys dating?”

I ignored the last question. “Yeah, we know each other.”

Erin, holding a hideous pink frilly lamp with crystals hanging from it that would be perfectly at home in Cynthia’s living room, looked at me and frowned. “Oh, I thought you were gay, Sophie.”

I hesitated. “I’m…queer…bi.”

While I might have been imagining things, Erin didn’t look impressed. I sighed inwardly. Erin’s reaction brought back more bad dating experiences. While I’d stuck to dating women after swearing off men, dating women hadn’t been completely bigotry-free. Sure, I didn’t receive the same gross, racist comments from women and constant invitations for threesomes, but I was subjected to another form of discrimination—biphobia.