Gina sat at the bar swirling the ice and slice of lemon in her glass of water. She hated parties, especially parties where everyone on the guest list hated her. They hadn’t held back, either. One female journalist pointed out that she’d obviously forgotten to dress up for the occasion, even though Gina was wearing a brand new black knee length skirt, sparkly green top and strappy sandals. Another guest made a comment about her hair, but she’d spent two hours at the hairdresser that afternoon.

The worst bitching Gina encountered was when she had slipped off to the toilet. She didn’t need to go, she had just closed the door and sat on the seat as she listened to the vain conversations of the guests as they primped themselves.

“Can you believe that stupid Australian turned up?” one had hissed.

“I know, doesn’t she get it? Nobody likes her,” the other had scorned.

“She’s a total try hard,” the first one had laughed.

“And is it any surprise she doesn’t have a date?” the other had added.

As Gina took another sip of water and glanced around the ballroom, the words echoed around her head. Was it any surprise she didn’t have a date? She was hardly approachable? And look at her serious dating record in recent times, an affair, a divorce, a couple of one night stands, and Greg, Mr Unavailable himself. God, it was times like this she wished she drank.

“No one leaves Baby in a corner.”

Gina looked up and there, in a tux, was Greg, smiling wryly.

“I’m never watching a chick flick with you again,” she smiled weakly.

“Oh, and I was so looking forward to Bridget Jones,” Greg mused as he sat on the barstool beside her.

“What are you doing here?” Gina asked, still swirling the contents of her glass.

“I’m your date,” Greg replied, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“But I didn’t invite you? In fact, I didn’t even tell you about the party,” Gina said matter-of-factly.

“Hey, it was Fen’s idea,” Greg shrugged.

“Fen’s! Oh lord, what did she say?” Gina cringed.

“Nothing I’m sure you don’t already know,” Greg smiled.

Gina looked at Greg for the first time and felt her cheeks redden.

“So, when does this party get rockin’?” Greg perked, grabbing another glass of champagne.

“This is about as good as it gets, I’m afraid,” Gina sighed.

“They’re playing Michael Bolton…it has to get better,” Greg scorned.

“I heard someone mention playing the ‘Time Warp’ later,” Gina mused.

“Oh for fucks sake…” Greg groaned.

Gina giggled. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too,” Greg grinned.

“Although, I’m surprised you dared enter a room full of journalists,” Gina said poignantly.

“I know, it’s a big sacrifice and I’m only doing it because Fen told me what a complete and utter bunch of fucking, self-absorbed scum they’ve been to you,” Greg hissed.

“They’re already staring,” Gina whispered.

“Who gives a fuck? If one of those media morons writes something about this, who’s going to believe them? If Greg Proops was having an affair, why would he be in a room full of journalists?” Greg remarked.

“You, sir, are a very smart man,” Gina smiled.

“I know, I think it’s healthy,” Greg mused.

“Must be the only thing,” Gina giggled as she noticed Greg reaching for a cigarette.

The music changed and Greg got to his feet,

“Would you like to dance?” he asked holding out his hand.

“You’re kidding, right?” Gina blushed.

Greg grinned and raised an eyebrow. Gina giggled and then took his hand. He led her to the middle of the floor and then pulled her close. They danced cheek to cheek for a while, without saying a word. Gina couldn’t help but get swept away in the moment. The music was soft, the lights low and the mixed smell of aftershave and smoke on Greg’s clothes was almost soothing.

“Did I mention you look stunning tonight?” Greg breathed.

“You have now,” Gina cooed as she moved her head so she could look at him. “You’re a great dancer,” she added.

“Thank you, I like to think it’s one of my many skills,” Greg mused.

“You still gagging for that cigarette?” Gina asked.

“Do you need to ask?” Greg replied.

“Come on,” Gina perked and led Greg through the crowded dance floor and out into the corridor. “This way,” she added.

They ended up sitting on the fire escape, Greg more than happy to get his nicotine fix.

“I actually have an ulterior motive for dragging you out here,” Gina announced.

“Yes, I have done it on a fire escape before,” Greg mused.

“I’m being serious,” Gina sighed.

“Sorry,” Greg apologised. “Continue”

“Remember how you told me not to go and see Ritza?”

“Yeah…oh man, you didn’t go see her, did you?”

“I wasn’t thinking straight, ok?”

“Well, what happened?”

“She showed me her massive engagement ring,” Gina mumbled.

“WHAT? Brad proposed to her? He never told us?” Greg hissed.

“I don’t think Brad’s the issue here. It’s Fenny I’m worried about. The bastard had the nerve to spend the night with her.”

“They spent the night together? For fucks sake, why do these people insist on fucking up their fucking lives?”

“I think that’s the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you?”

Greg looked away and concentrated on his cigarette.

“Sorry about, you know…she just turned up,” he breathed.

“Yeah, well she is your wife. I’m sorry I freaked, one of those things I guess. Thank God for Fenny,” Gina sighed.

“Can we not talk about the whole ‘Fen, Brad and Ritza’ love triangle for the rest of the night, please?” Greg asked.

“Ok, what would you like to talk about instead?”

“Well, maybe for the first time ever we could talk about us?”

“There’s an us?” Gina peeped.

“Oh come on. You know there’s an us,” Greg said coyly.

“Is having an us a good or a bad thing?”

Greg laughed. “Gina, you are the most intelligent, witty, brazenly modest and stunning woman I have ever met.”

“What about your wife?”

“She’s off limits to talk about as well,” Greg ordered. “And I don’t know anyone who can argue with me as successfully as you.”

“It’s a knack,” Gina shrugged.

Greg looked at Gina, bewildered. “What do I have to do to get you to admit there is a weird kind of chemistry between us?”

“If I stay in denial I won’t get hurt,” Gina announced as she got to her feet.

“I’d never hurt you,” Greg said, offended.

“You’re a married man,” Gina shrieked.

The fire escape door opened and two women tumbled out. Greg and Gina looked at each other.

“Let’s go back to the party,” Gina mumbled, leading the way.

Back in the corridor, Greg stopped Gina,

“I need a piss, where’s the bathrooms around here?” he asked.

“Sometimes you can be so charming,” Gina sighed. “End of the corridor,” she added.

“Thanks,” Greg mused and sauntered off down the hall.

“So Gina, is it or isn’t it?” a voice piped up.

Gina turned around to see Mandy and Kate, two of her fellow journalists.

“Is it or isn’t it what?” Gina scorned.

“Greg Proops?” Kate sighed crossing her arms.

“Oh yeah, Greg Proops, a married man, is going to go partying with another woman in a room full of the media. Get a grip,” Gina retorted.

“Didn’t think you’d be that lucky,” jeered Mandy.

“Look, you two deranged bimbettes. Since I’ve come to LA, you and your socially inept friends have been on my back. I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to you. I guess having a natural blonde with real breasts in the office makes you look cheap and pathetic. But hey, shit happens. So why don’t you just fuck off back to your fake little world of plastic surgery, Jimmy Choos and purging after meals and let me get on with my life,” Gina hissed.

Mandy and Kate were speechless.

“You heard the lady. Fuck off,” Greg perked.

Gina hadn’t even noticed him sidled up beside her. Mandy and Kate said nothing as they turned and headed back to the party.

“Well done you,” Greg smiled and put his arm around Gina.

“You are a great influence on me,” Gina laughed and slid her arm around Greg’s back.

“Shall we blow off this party then?” Greg asked.

“Please, any more Michael Bolton and I may get violent,” Gina laughed.

They were still arm in arm when they arrived at Gina’s apartment. Greg pulled her close to him and they stayed looking at each other for a moment.

“I adore you Greg, and as much as I’d like to open that door and spend the night screwing each other’s brains out, I like what we have. You’re like my best friend, man,” Gina breathed.

“Right,” Greg said softly. He pulled her closer and kissed her gently on the forehead. “Goodnight, it was fun.”

“It was,” Gina smiled.

Greg let her go, then smiled before he walked back down the corridor. Gina unlocked her apartment door and went inside, once again alone.