Page 69 of Your Pace or Mine
“Not much, there’s a bit of a red carpet thing, then a cocktail hour and a dinner before the awards,” he explained. “My agent, Jonathan… he won’t be there, but he’s given me homework.” He wrinkled his nose. “He’s kind of a dick, but he’s good at his job. He did get me another audition, so I’m trying to keep him happy, take his advice.” Jamie tugged at an invisible thread in his joggers. “He wants me to work the room, network, impress people—you know, all that.”
“Do you want me to do anything in particular?”
Jamie smiled. “Just be there, just be you.”
Chapter 17
Jamie
2 weeks to the London Marathon
Jamie adjusted his bowtie for the sixteenth time in front of the mirror in Darius’s bedroom. A tailor had been by earlier to fit the green jacket he’d swiped from Darius’s wardrobe to Jamie’s frame, and he had to admit it looked bloody perfect over his black satin shirt.
Darius came up behind him, wrapping his arms around him, smoothing the lapels on his jacket and adjusting his floral pocket square. They looked good together. It somehow both thrilled and terrified Jamie just how comfortable he felt with Darius’s arms around him. He felt constantly like he was teetering on the knife-edge of blurting out all of his feelings every time they were together now. But he had it all planned. It would be perfect. He just had to get through tonight first.
One night. Take some pictures, impress some industry people and get on with the rest of their lives.
How hard could it be?
They picked up Cressida and her date for the awards in the town car Darius had hired for the evening. She was dressed to the nines in a blue silk dress that hugged all of her curves, andthe man on her arm looked like he could scarcely believe his luck. Jamie didn’t recognise him, though, so he doubted he’d be sticking around for long. That just wasn’t Cress’s style.
“Ooh er, nice jacket. Certainly moved up in the world, haven’t you, Carter?” Cressida teased as she climbed gingerly into the backseat. “Darius, is it? Cressida Beckett-Cummings, I’ve heard so much about you.” She took his hand. “And this is Mike,” she added offhandedly.
“Pleasure to meet you,” Darius replied. “You’re even more lovely than Jamie described.”
“Such a charmer. Better lock this one down before you head off on a new tour, Jamie or I might have to swoop in.”
“Not like I’ve got anything lined up,” Jamie replied. “But we’ve been over this, Cress. He isn’t interested, you’ve got the wrong bits,” Jamie said with an affectionate eye roll.
“Always worth a shot, I’d make a great duchess.”
Darius and Mike both cleared their throats uncomfortably in near unison. Jamie sank back into his seat next to Darius. “You know she’s only teasing, right?” he whispered.
“I know, Jamie. It’s fine. It’s kind of nice to meet your friends. Even if they are, well…” They looked over to see Cressida and Mike making out heavily in the next seat. Darius smiled uncomfortably at Jamie, and Jamie’s heart exploded. He was so ready for this to be real, and somehow, all of his fear that Darius wouldn’t feel the same had dissipated.
One night. Just hold it together, Carter. Then you can tell him.
They walked the red carpet together. More photos than Jamie had been asked for in his entire career were snapped of the two of them. The Darius Hewitt effect—it was palpable.
Once they were inside, Jamie led Darius around to various people he knew from previous shows. He made awkward small talk while he sipped champagne, which he didn’t even like, butit was the done thing, wasn’t it? Or it was for most people. Sparkling water, of course, for Darius.
“Are they going to serve any food at this thing?” Darius muttered in his ear. He’d been on his long run earlier, and Jamie’d learned that meant he’d spend the day packing away the calories. The sparse canapes that were drifting around on pieces of slate, disappearing nearly as fast as they appeared, weren’t going to cut it. Jamie managed to score some sort of salmon cream puff that he handed off to Darius to appease his grumbling stomach, but frankly, he couldn’t wait for the sit-down dinner portion of the evening to get going.
Of course, once it did, Jamie was horrified to discover that his ex, Stephen and his fiancée were sitting at their table. Jamie was instantly on edge. The way Stephen kept leering at him whenever his fiancée was looking the other way made him feel physically ill. It made Jamie drift back to the thoughts that had plagued him for weeks. Sure, he loved dancing, enjoyed singing on stage and got that rush of adrenaline from live performance, but the trade-off, what it took to get there, just didn’t seem like it was all that clear a choice anymore.
As the second course was cleared away, Jamie was afforded a brief respite when Stephen made his way to the bar. He sagged in his seat, trying to avoid the gaze of Stephen’s fiancée, feeling equal parts defeated and like he needed a long shower. Under the table, Darius’s hand squeezed his thigh.
“You doing alright?” he asked.
Jamie sighed. “I think I forgot how exhausting this kind of thing is.”
“Just give me the signal and I’ll whip up a fake emergency.”
“What kind of fake emergency?” Jamie whispered.
Darius smiled. “Something very aristocratic, you know, make them realise how important you are.”
“You know I don’t care about any of that, right?” Jamie suddenly felt it was essential that Darius understand this. That he didn’t see him as his title, or some kind of meal ticket.
