Page 97 of The Match Faker

‘I love the theatre. That’s what I started doing at drama school. I loved the buzz of doing a live performance. The adrenaline rush. I always dreamt of trying other things too, like a serious drama or even comedy. And I’d love to do screenwriting or try producing, but’—I shrugged—‘it’s not how people see me, so I just have to keep doing what I do best: running around with my shirt off, shooting people and blowing up buildings in front of the camera.’

My chest tightened. I wasn’t looking forward to my next film. It’d be the same old, same old. Creating a film that was completely forgettable.

Sure, that still had value. People needed escapism and entertainment. But for once, I’d love to do something that pushed me out of my comfort zone. Something that really made a difference.

‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting to try new things and to challenge yourself. It doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful. Maybe you should try reinventing yourself. You know, like Matthew McConaughey.’

‘Maybe,’ I said. If only it was that simple.

‘I was sad when he stopped doing romcoms, but I get that sometimes people want to change direction. I was terrified about leaving my job to set up the agency. And, yeah, it hasn’t quite worked out how I’d hoped yet, but I’m still much happier than I was. You can control your destiny. You are Liam bloody Stone! Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t do something. If you set your mind to it, you can achieve whatever you want!’

My chest did some weird fluttery thing. I was so used to being told that I should stick to what I was good at: looking pretty, making another film in the same genre and being happy with what I had. So it was strange to hear someone support my dream to try something different.

‘I… thanks.’ I squeezed Mia’s hand. The softness of her skin made my body light up. I didn’t want to pull away, but I had to. It felt too good.

‘Boss,’ Phil’s voice sounded on the intercom.

‘What’s up?’

‘Traffic’s really thick. I’ve checked for different routes, but everywhere’s gridlocked. We won’t make it on time.’

‘We’re not far from Waterloo.’ Mia pressed her face against the window. ‘Let’s just get the Tube. It’s literally two stops to Charing Cross, then it’ll take about ten minutes to walk there.’

‘But…’

‘I know you’re worried about being mobbed by thousands of adoring fans, but this is the London Underground we’re talking about. People don’t even make eye contact. Everyone will be too busy reading the Evening Standard or scrolling through their phones to even notice you.’

‘Maybe…’

From what I remembered about travelling on London public transport, people preferred to reread the same boring classified ads than look at the person in front of them. And making conversation was a hard no.

‘Once, me and Trudy were coming home late and a drunk woman was masturbating on the Tube.’

‘You’re joking!’

‘Nope. The carriage was half-full, but everyone pretended not to notice. Trudy thought it was hilarious!’

‘That sounds like her,’ I laughed.

‘And loads of celebs have taken the Tube. If Rihanna, Jay-Z, Harry Styles and Benedict Cumberbatch can do it, so can you. You’ll be fine!’

She was probably right. And like she said, it was only a couple of stops.

‘We’re getting the Tube.’ I lowered the privacy screen to speak to Phil directly. ‘Please just meet us at the theatre later.’

‘Okay,’ he confirmed.

‘Ready?’ I unbuckled my seat belt and looked out of the window to check it was safe to get out. We were stationary at the traffic lights, so the coast was clear.

‘Yep.’

‘Wait there.’ I walked to Mia’s side and opened the door.

‘Thanks.’ She stepped out.

A gust of wind hit us and Mia shivered. I was glad I had a jacket. London weather was so temperamental.

‘Here.’ I wrapped my jacket over her shoulders.

---