I don’t catch the slightest whiff of jealousy. They’re genuinely happy to see each other, and when Oliver’s responsibilities at the premiere are finished, he invites Gabe—and by proxy, me—to join him at the after-party.

We’re swept away to a nearby restaurant, where the entire place has been reserved for us. For Oliver.

He holds court, charming us all, and I drink one too many of the bespoke cocktails that are circulating—drinks that each have an orchid or a real silk umbrella or a Swarovski crystal–encrusted swizzle stick.

The whole evening is delightful and luxurious and Gabe is the ultimate platonic date.

“How crazy is this?” he asks me at one point, as if this is new to him as well. As if it still dazzles him.

It’s hard not to be enamored with the future Bond.

I’m aware, the whole time, that I’m breathing rarified air. That I’m beyond lucky to be spending my evening listening to Oliver Matthias and Gabe Parker talk about their favorite movies and actors they idolize. That they are wearing designer suits and my dress is safety-pinned to my bra. We’re not even the same species, but tonight, they’re letting me pretend that we are.

Then

Chapter 11

Chapter
11

“HE’S GOING TO TRY AND fuck you,” Jo said, putting the finishing touches on my face. “Though, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

That was Jo in a nutshell. If good or exciting things happened to me, I shouldn’t take it personally. It wasn’t me—it was circumstance. The job at Broad Sheets? They were just doing my old professor a favor. My relationship with Jeremy? Being with me was easier than trying to date in L.A. The Gabe Parker assignment? Everyone else was probably busy and it would be impossible for me to screw it up.

Jo and I weren’t really friends.

We were roommates who gossiped viciously and used each other for favors.

It wasn’t healthy, but I didn’t have anyone else besides Jeremy.

My friends from high school had either lost touch or moved away and my friends from undergrad had gone home or stayed in New York. I hadn’t been close to anyone in grad school besides Jeremy. I saw my family, but that wasn’t the type of relationship I needed the most. I was alone in L.A., unsure of how to be an adult in the city I’d grown up in.

Jo was jealous and demanding. She didn’t like Jeremy at all.

“He wears his jeans too tight,” she’d say. “That means he’s insecure about his dick size.”

She would try to get me to confirm or deny those statements and called me prudish when I declined to discuss the size of my boyfriend’s penis with her.