9. Oli

9

OLI

I float into work. It's practically like I'm levitating.

I'd woken up that morning to cold sheets next to me, and for a minute my heart had sunk. It had almost completely negated the incredibly delicious way my arse was aching with the memory of the night before.

But then I'd dragged myself out of bed and seen the post-it note on my fridge, standing out amongst the affirmations I'd been steadily adhering there in the hopes that they would perk up my mood.

As sweet as honey, you are certainly enough.

There had been a plate of fruit waiting for me on the counter, expertly cut up, along with a coffee in a to-go cup from the shop down the street and a muffin that I'd actually eaten instead of picking at. It had been my second full, non-ice cream meal in weeks, after the fish and chips we'd shared by the Thames. As I walk through the doors of Sky High, I'm feeling like a real human again.

I caress the edge of the post-it note I'd taken down from the fridge and stuck into my pocket. It's even better than writing it for myself - the knowledge that even if Adonis had to leave early, probably to get on with whatever job he was in town for as he was clearly just visiting London, he'd taken the time to let me know that he'd cared.

I know it's a one-time thing. I don't know the man's real name. I know nothing about him other than that he was at the premier of An Age of Dragons, and that he's American, and that he fucks like a god.

If I could write him a post-it note message in return, it would say: Adonis by name, Adonis by nature.

He hadn't left a phone number, no email, no social media profiles. And it's almost a relief, because last night had been perfect, and it's going to stay that way. There will be no relationship where Adonis will prove to be the kind of man who never washes the dishes, who has terrible morning breath, who wants to sit and watch boring sports games all day every day.

There's no way that Adonis can turn into the kind of man who cheats on you for six years straight.

No matter how much I would love to see him again, it's not going to happen. It's disappointing, but it's freeing too. It was the best night of my life. And I'm fine with it being a memory.

I keep telling myself that as I sit down at my desk.

‘Hey,' Megan says as soon as my arse hits the seat. I haven't even had time to turn on my computer before she's at my shoulder. ‘So where were you last night?'

I realise that most of the rest of the office is empty. Everyone must have been spending time recovering from the afterparty. I hit the button to turn on my computer, and it whirs to life. My email inbox is overwhelming the minute it flashes on the screen, and I minimise it before I get nervous heartburn.

‘Out,' I say evasively.

‘Out…being attacked by a suction cup?' Megan blinks at me innocently. ‘Because it sure looks it.'

She points at my neck. I do my best not to raise my fingers up to touch the bruise that Adonis left under my jaw. I tried to cover it with makeup, because a scarf would have been amiss given the gorgeous early spring weather. But I guess I didn't do a good enough job.

‘Honey,' she says, and I literally jump at the nickname, even though she calls me various terms of endearment all day, every day. ‘There's no amount of concealer that could have done away with a hicky that incredible. Dish the dirt.'

She collapses into the empty desk chair next to me, blinking expectantly.

I chew my lip. She knows something happened with a man last night. And why not give her the truth? I steal a look around, and the only other people in are one of the editors, sitting clear across the room with massive headphones on, and the janitor slowly circulating around the room to empty the bins and wipe off the desks. It's not like there's anyone here to listen who would possibly care what I'd done the night before.

Maybe sharing the memory with another person will help me remember it better. I need to etch it into my brain so that I never forget.

I sigh. ‘Honestly, I went into the bathroom before the movie started because I needed to collect myself. I was pretty convinced that if I had to sit and watch all those scenes where Armin professes his undying love for Gwen, that I'd start bawling in the theatre.'

‘Understandable.' Megan's face creases with pity and she leans forward to pat me on the shoulder. ‘I figured it was something like that, and it's not like you needed to be there after handling the media, so I decided to give you your space. I'm sorry you're having to deal with this in the midst of that wanker breaking your heart.'

I shrug. ‘It's ok. Because…' I draw out for dramatic effect. ‘In the bathroom, there was this guy.'

I pause, figuring out how to tell the rest of the story, and Megan makes an impatient keep going motion with her hand.

‘Mmm,' I hum. The janitor is getting closer to us, and I lower my voice a tad just in case. ‘He was practically having a panic attack over the sinks. And it was just so sad - I couldn't leave him like that. So I helped him through it, and then we were talking. We decided to get out of there, and he hadn't been to London before, so I took him to my favourite fish and chips place, and then we sat by the Thames and ate. You know, my spot by the office?'

Megan's eyes narrow. ‘You're saying this man also decided not to sit in the theatre? And that he wasn't from London?'

‘Don't look so suspicious.' I swat at her. ‘It wasn't like I picked up a vagrant. He was at the premier, so he was on the list of cleared guests. And so when he suggested we…take things further, I took him home, and we. You know.'

Megan is looking at me strangely, now. ‘You what?'

‘He fucked me.' I roll my eyes. ‘Do you want the play-by-play? He's got a massive…'

She's not looking at me now, though. She's thrown her body practically over my lap to reach my keyboard and is clicking into the internet and pulling up one of the entertainment sites. There's a livestream going on the front page, and it's about An Age of Dragons from the headline. I panic for a moment because usually I get notifications about all the press conferences, and I make sure to watch them. It must have come through early this morning, in the mess of emails I've not sorted through yet.

But I don't have time to panic about my lack of professionalism, because Megan is pointing one glitter-painted nail at the screen.

‘Is this him?' Megan asks.

I freeze. I stare.

I literally cannot believe what I'm seeing.

There's Adonis. He's sitting at a table with a microphone in front of him, camera bulbs flashing, the scary looking Italian publicist I'd seen at the premier in the media pen standing off to the side.

He's flipping something small and folded up and hot pink between his fingers. It's my fucking affirmation post-it.

Adonis is regaling the crowd of reporters with a story about how it worked, filming the dragon riding scenes when the dragons had to be done in with CGI. He's got that deep, raspy voice. The voice that told me last night I'm not a tease. Not when I have you waiting for me as he stripped.

Right before he took me to pieces in the best sex of my life.

‘Oli,' Megan says in a dramatic stage-whisper, a huge-ass, shit-eating grin spreading across her face. ‘Darling. You just fucked Nikos Ridge.'

My cheeks heat as my stomach completes summersaults that would land me on the Olympic gymnastics team.

‘Well actually,' I say, numb to the world. ‘Nikos Ridge fucked me.'

The revelation that I'd had Armin Wolfe's cock up my arse the night before sends me into a tailspin. I'm literally dizzy.

We've taken refuge in Megan's office, because it at least has a door. Once I've told her everything about the night in gripping detail, the two of us huddled under her desk like it's a bomb shelter, we sit for a moment and I try to catch my breath.

Adonis is Armin is Nikos fucking Ridge.

I'm screaming incoherently inside my head.

When I'm done with the story, having told it twice because Megan says her mind is so overloaded she can't grasp all the details with just one run through, she crawls out from under the desk, leaves the office, and comes back with two enormous, steaming cups of tea. I take one from her gratefully, my hands shaking, and wonder how the actual fuck this happened.

‘So,' Megan says, back to the calm, cool, collected editor-in-chief. ‘There's one really obvious thing we have to talk about. And that's that you absolutely cannot out him. You can never talk about this again.'

‘Oh my God.' I nearly choke on the tea I've got in my mouth. ‘I would never.'

I'd told Megan because I hadn't known who it was. Adonis was an anonymous fantasy. Never for a moment would I have disclosed all this if I'd know he was an actual public figure.

An actual Hollywood star, who had made a career on being the brooding, sexy, extremely heterosexual leading man. The one Hollywood hadn't seen in years until he reappeared to film his big comeback.

The one who always got the girl. Except now I knew he'd just as likely want to get the boy.

‘It's going to be our secret,' Megan says. I'm grateful for how steady she's being as I slowly panic. I gulp down another hot mouthful of tea, hoping it works its magic on me and washes away some of the adrenaline coursing through my limbs. ‘He clearly doesn't want anyone to know that he's into men, and that's fine. He's entitled to his privacy for whatever reason.'

‘Yeah,' I agree. ‘I know. I mean, look, I have no idea why he'd want to have sex with me, but it's going with me to the grave, I swear it. Not only would I never do that to another person, I'd also not do that to the cast and crew of the movie. It would send the entire premier into a total tailspin. The hunky action hero isn't straight? He's some variation of my-sexuality-includes-sticking-it-in-guys?'

‘Always the publicist, you,' Megan says, blowing on her tea, smiling faintly again. ‘Well, this is a hell of a memory, Oli.'

‘Yeah,' I breathe out, wondering just how I got so lucky. I got my one night with Armin Wolfe. With Nikos Ridge.

I was his first.

I just wish that it hadn't also been our last.