Page 57 of Someone Like You

‘Gabs,’ says Raff, leaning in, ‘this is already one of the best parties I’ve ever been to.’

‘One of? I’m going withthebest, and we’ve only been here five minutes.’

‘Ten,’ he says, and when I look up at him, he smiles.

‘Madam, sir?’ We’re interrupted by a waiter bearing a tray of brimming Champagne flutes.

‘Oh, yes please,’ says Raff, relieving him of two glasses. He hands one to me, then holds his up in a toast. ‘To my best friend, thank yousomuch for being my plus one. I would never have said yes to this if you hadn’t agreed to come with me.’

I clink my glass against his.

‘My pleasure.Literally.’

He downs a generous glug and I take a sip. This is the real deal –actualChampagne and it’s so delicious, I could cry. That is, if I hadn’t been made up by a thousand-pounds-an-hour makeup artist.

‘Ready?’ he asks, licking his lower lip.

He means am I ready to mingle, and as someone who grew up with a large extended family – on both sides – I’m prepared to do the heavy lifting here.

I take his hand to reassure him, and he smiles down at me.

‘Hello,’ I say, approaching a trio at the precise moment their collective laughter dies down. They turn to us, smiling, and I introduce us. Then I ask, ‘So, what brings you here tonight?’ – a question that’s designed to spark conversation with strangers and my go-to at this type of event.

Mere minutes in, it’s like a switch has flipped and Raff is engaging with the others, charming and confident, and holding up his end of the conversation with ease. We’ve never really discussed it, his social anxiety or how he overcomes it to be this version of himself. But I know from experience he’ll be comfortable with these people for the rest of the night.

I nod and smile and contribute when it’s appropriate, but mostly I’m looking out for Julia, the artist. She hasn’t arrived yet as far as I can tell.

I think back on what I learnt about her at the screening. Overall, I thought she was a decent match for Raff – it was her obsession with German EDM that put me off. If he likes her, I suppose he can decide if it’s a deal breaker or not.

If he likes her…

The surrealness of where I am and what I’m doing suddenly smacks me in the face.

I’m at the party of the season, looking like I belong here (thanks to an incredible style team), wing-womaning my best friend inhopes of matching him with one of London’s Forty Under Forty to Watch.

My life is weird sometimes.

I cast my eyes towards the Lapland landscape to scope out who’s recently arrived and there she is! Oh, she’s with a guy – a very handsome guy. He looks remarkably like Jude Law did inThe Holiday.

I glance at Raff, trying to see him through fresh eyes –Julia’seyes. He really does look good – his hair suits him like that. As if on cue, he laughs, his head tipping back, and he looks so handsome, my heart could burst.

If he and Julia hit it off tonightandthey’re a match, she had better be good to him or I’ll…

‘Hello, everyone. I hear this is where the fun people are.’

Talk about making an entrance.

She’s even more gorgeous up close. Tall, curvy (she’s down the J.Lo end of the spectrum), with long blonde hair worn in a deliberately messy up-do, and a very pretty face, right down to her large hazel eyes and pouty pink lips.

Essentially, the opposite of me.

Julia introduces herself to our little group, then says, ‘And this is my brother, Peter.’

Oh! Herbrother! Well, hello, Peter! Added bonus of playing wing-woman for your bestie? The hot brother.

After introductions are made, Julia starts chatting to Raff. I sip my Champagne and look around, doing my best to hide that I’m watching them out of the corner of my eye as well as eavesdropping.

‘Full confession,’ she says, ‘I’m a die-hardBritain’s Best Bakersfan –andI read the article inNouveau Life– so I know who you are.’

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