Upstairs, Rose spotted Luce right away. The glint of her silver dress was peeking through a mass of long black suits.
‘Hey,’ Rose said, approaching the group but looking exclusively at Luce, glass in her outstretched hand.
‘Oh, thank you!’ Luce replied before turning to no one in particular and booming: ‘This is my gorgeous housemate, Rose. She works at Firehouse.’ One of the men turned to look at Rose, his eyes surveying like an airport scanner before returning to Luce.
‘Where do you work?’ asked a different man, his eyes firmly fixed on her friend.
‘I’m a very boring lawyer,’ she replied.
‘You don’t look very boring to me,’ said another of the men, whose body was inching closer towards Luce’s, the satin of his suit almost touching that of her dress. It was all so predictable. There were five men positioned around her now, each one of them engaging in a black-tie pissing contest for her attention.
Rose stood silently near Luce, observing each of the men who, given the combination of their height and bone structure, could only have been models.
They had moved on to discussing a photoshoot one of the men had just done with Gucci when Rose started to zone out, her mind drifting back to Milo. He wouldn’t be here tonight, of course. She’d already googled him earlier that day: he was performing in Paris. Rose had managed to go forty-five minutes without checking if he’d seen her last message. She decided that was long enough and told Luce she was going to the bathroom.
There was no toilet roll but she did have a new message on Instagram: I’m abroad at the moment but I’ll be back in London this weekend if you’re around?
Rose stared at the word ‘around’ until it started to go fuzzy. Around for what? Drinks? Dinner? Sex? All three? And in what order? She understood that unpicking ambiguity was often a necessity when it came to communicating with someone you are attracted to. But with Milo, the possibilities of what he could want from her were as endless as they were unfathomable. All she really wanted from him was clarity. And yet, she knew this was probably the one thing he was incapable of giving anyone, especially not in writing, where it was only ever a few screenshots away from making headline news.
She resisted the urge to reply right away and returned to the smoking area, where she found Luce making out with one of the male models. There was no point in interrupting, so Rose headed back downstairs in search of another reason to stay at the party.
Dancing had overtaken the bar area; the lighting had been turned down so low Rose could barely distinguish one gently bopping body from another. In one corner, a group of people seemed to be cheering. Rose watched as they helped a woman up so that she was now standing on top of the bar, barefoot and holding a bottle of champagne. She tossed her head back and drank from the bottle as the small crowd cheered. It was only when Rose moved closer that she saw the woman was a famous model who had supposedly been sober for ten years.
The only other room in the venue was now occupied by small groups of people either drinking or taking photographs. Rose didn’t recognise anyone but decided to do a lap. She wanted to give it a little longer in case Luce decided against going home with the model in favour of crying on the sofa and watching reality TV. Finding no one and nothing, Rose settled into an empty corner table next to two attractive actors she recognised. Both of them were the stars of a new crime drama that everyone had become so obsessed with it had put her off watching it completely.
One of them looked up as she sat down and smiled at her in a way that made Rose think it was okay to say hello. So, she did.
Both men introduced themselves and one, the taller one, asked why she was alone. Rose explained what had happened with Luce and George – and her housemate’s newfound mission to get laid.
‘Classic,’ the actor who smiled at her said. ‘I’m Leo.’ He reached out to shake her hand and introduced his friend, Michael.
‘What do you do?’ she asked Leo, aware he’d know she already knew the answer.
‘I’m an actor. So is Mike.’
‘Oh, cool. I work at Firehouse.’
‘Do you now?’ his eyes lit up. ‘Are you an editor at Intel?’
‘No, I work in the press office.’ She watched as his expression switched from intrigue to indifference. ‘How come you guys weren’t at the awards last weekend?’ she asked, knowing both had been invited.
‘I was filming in Utah,’ said Michael. ‘How was it? Saw Milo Jax was there. He’s such a hero.’
‘Yeah I was gutted to miss out actually after I saw he was there,’ added Leo.
Rose tried hard not to allow herself to go red. But Leo appeared to have clocked it.
‘Do you know him?’ he asked, intrigue returning.
‘No. Not really.’ She paused. ‘I mean, we hung out a bit at the awards.’
‘Oh, did you now? Check you out. Hanging with the most desirable man on the planet. He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?’
Rose scratched her arm just to have something to do with her hands.
‘Did you go to the afterparty with him?’ asked Michael. ‘I’ve heard so many stories about those afterparties. And about Milo actually.’ Both of the men chuckled.
‘I did, yeah,’ Rose replied.
‘So coy!’ said Leo, his body closer to hers now. ‘What did you say your name was again?’
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go.’ Rose stood up, realising sweat had started pooling above her top lip. ‘My colleague needs me by the door.’
Before the men could say anything else, she was gone.
Wherere did you gooooo????
Helloooo?
Rose??
Rose.
Gone to Harrison’s house. Told him my ex was called George. George Harrison! Lollololol. Back in am.
Rose felt a wave of guilt wash over her. It was unusual of her to leave Luce without saying goodbye.
I’m so sorry, she wrote, replying to Luce on WhatsApp. Met some weird actors downstairs and then just felt exhausted and bolted. How was it? Are you home?
