Alex's POV
*****
"There he is!"
"Alexander Cross! Over here!"
"Alexander, is it true you're going to work on a new queer college Rom-Com this coming fall?"
"Do you support any queer charities?!"
I rolled my eyes underneath my sunglasses, lowering my head as my bodyguard escorted me out of my limo and toward the red carpet of one of the biggest nights in Hollywood.
The Golden Globe award.
I adjusted my cufflinks, ignoring the hailstorm of questions from the reporters.
They've been that way at every event since I came out earlier this year.
Ugh, as if a gay man in Hollywood was a new thing.
And as if the attention wasn't enough, since then lots of producers and directors were either after hiring me to be "inclusive" or shifting away to avoid upsetting conservatives.
Rows of reporters, dressed just as sharply as the stars, jostled for position with their microphones — all eager for the soundbite that could trend before the night was over. Everywhere I turned, sequins glittered, satin gowns shimmered, and tuxedos cut like blades through the flashbulb storm.
Overhead, helicopters hovered lazily, catching aerial shots for the live broadcast.
I positioned myself to take a few pictures, flashing the brightest smile I could muster.
Just when I lifted my chin for a better angle, a hand rested on my shoulder.
I turned my head to the source and smiled when I saw my boyfriend, Mathias, standing beside me with a sharp black suit.
"Took you long enough." I brought my lips close to his ear and whispered, trying not to get carried away by his cologne.
He grinned, his hazel eyes glinting under the camera lights. "Oh, you know I couldn't miss my man potentially bagging an award for the world. Best actor under the comedy category? I'm so proud."
I chuckled softly, trying not to get flustered as I grabbed his hand, ready to head inside.
But then—
"Vincent Moretti! You're looking stunning."
"Over here, Vincent!"
My smile faded the second I heard that name.
My eyes flicked to the entrance of the red carpet, moving past the blonde head rocking a stylish satin gown and the older man who may or may not be her sugar daddy... Until they landed on HIM.
Vincent fucking Moretti.
Aka the bane of my bloody existence.
Natural blonde hair that looked gold under the camera lights, golden eyes, jaw that seemed more sculpted than a statue's. The guy was almost perfect... Except for the fact that he's a psycho who bullied me from middle school all the way to high school and college.
Don't ask me how we ended up in the same college... It was a mystery to me to this day.
And as if all that wasn't enough, he's turned out to be one of my biggest competitors in the entertainment industry. As proven by the fact that he's here as a nominee for the same award I was after.
Vincent barely posed for the cameras, keeping his face stoic as always.
"Alex?" Mathias' voice snapped me out of my reverie just then, forcing me to shake my head and bring my eyes to him.
He blinked at me with worry, his hand on my shoulder tightening. "What's the matter? You spaced out. Don't you want to go in now?"
I steadied my breathing, closing my eyes for a few seconds.
'It's not that deep, Alex. It's not that deep...' I told myself mentally even though the demons in my head were equally telling me to give Vincent the middle finger.
When I opened my eyes again, my lips curled into a warm smile as I pecked Mathias on the cheek. "It's all good, babe. I was just rehearsing my lines for when I win that award. Come on, let's go to our seats inside."
We locked our hands tighter, walking toward the doors leading into the Beverly Hilton hotel, my guard leading the way.
But as we did, I couldn't help but glance over my shoulder at Vincent.
However, my breath hitched in my throat when I spotted him staring directly at me, his arms locked around the shoulders of a woman I assumed was his girlfriend.
There was a mysterious shimmer in his eyes, one that I've never been able to decipher or understand.
I eyed him from head to toe once before turning my neck back to the path ahead, cursing under my breath.
"Undercooked asshole."
~~~~~
The international Ballroom was lined with hundreds of round tables with actors, producers, directors, and some of the most influential people in Hollywood already seated and talking amongst themselves.
Mathias and I walked to our designated table where two other people were sitting:
My best friend, Rita Harrington and her fiancé, Richard.
Both of them were my co-stars in the last project that got me a best actor nomination.
Rita was a gorgeous black woman with long braided hair and a slender build. She wore a sleeveless golden gown and had light make-up on, her diamond engagement ring standing out on her finger.
As for Richard, he sat beside her like her supplementary white twink, a role I would've taken easily if only I were white myself.
He wore a basic black suit and had his black hair styled into a buzz cut.
"Alex, my man!" Rita winked at me as we sat, parting strands of her braided hair and leaning closer. "How are you feeling? Excited?"
I let out a heavy breath. "Girl, I just can't wait for this night to be over already."
She giggled but I wasn't joking.
Vincent's presence in this event and the daunting fact that we were both nominated for the same award was grating on the last thread of my nerves.
Fortunately, Mathias had his palm on my lap, grounding me in my emotions.
The award ceremony soon began when the hall was filled up and the host took the stage, her flowy white gown trailing behind her.
"Ladies and gentlemen... Welcome to the eighty-third Golden Globe Awards!"
Everyone clapped and I followed suit, scanning my eyes around as I adjusted my sitting posture, drawing in deep breaths to keep my anxiety in check.
This is it.
"Alright, alright. Let's not get too carried away with the clapping." The host beamed with a grin. "You'll need those beautiful hands for the upcoming winners we'll be awarding tonight. So many good films and actors this year. Y'all..."
Her voice trailed off in my mind as I waited patiently for my category to be called out.
With each category and its corresponding winner called, I grew more anxious.
If Vincent wins that award, I'll fucking throw myself off the Brooklyn Bridge and come back to haunt him as a ghost.
Yes, it was THAT serious. No, I'm not overreacting.
Finally, after one clapping too many and a plethora of half-baked sob fest speeches I couldn't care less about, the moment of truth arrived.
"This next category is for the best actor for a comedy movie. And the nominees are... Jeremiah Seville. Vincent Moretti. Renato Carrington and Alexander Cross!"
I barely managed a smile as everyone clapped, my fingers twitching with anticipation.
Come on, come on...
After making a few generic jokes, she finally cleared her throat and stared at a paper.
"And the winner is..." There was a dramatic pause, one that made me sweat bullets.
Lord, get on with it!
"... Alexander Cross!" She finally yelled, her eyes scanning the audience before landing on me.
It wasn't until a spotlight was shone on me that I realised point blank... That I'd won. I actually won!
My heart thudded heavily as I turned my head to Mathias, leaning closer to him and kissing him on the lips. Just a brief one before the media goes into a dumb frenzy.
"I told you you'd win." He whispered into my ear before I pulled away, a proud smile stretched on his face.
I smiled in return, getting on my feet when Rita's cheering became way too loud.
"Go, pumpkin!" She urged, standing up and giving me a fist bump to the shoulder that almost made me stumble.
I shook my head, walking to the stage.
But just when I climbed the stairs and was about to walk to the host, I noticed her squinting at the paper like she'd read something wrong.
My heart did a somersault, cold sweat dripping down my back.
Hell no!
But then the host's eyes widened as if something had just clicked.
"Oh! Wait, wait—there's more here. A little… surprise announcement."
The ballroom rippled with murmurs that made my pulse stutter. I froze mid-stride, my smile faltering as the host turned back to the microphone with that practised Hollywood grin.
"Ladies and gentlemen, not only are we celebrating the best of this past year, but we're also excited to share a first look at the next big thing. The team behind Starcrossed Summer—yes, the very film that earned our winner Alexander Cross tonight's award—will reunite this fall for a brand-new project."
The audience gasped, clapping automatically while my stomach dropped.
I wasn't aware they'd be announcing the project tonight.
"A queer coming-of-age college rom-com, directed by Emmy-winner Carmine Vega, starring…" She glanced at the card again for effect, "…our very own Golden Globe winner, Alexander Cross."
Applause exploded.
I forced a polite smile, lifting a hand to wave—because what the hell else could I do?
"And sharing the spotlight with him as his character's love interest…" The host's voice pitched higher, milking the moment. "…none other than Vincent Moretti!"
The room erupted into chaos. Half the audience clapped, the other half shrieked, while every camera in the building swivelled to capture the shot of me on stage and him at his table.
Meanwhile, my stomach twisted as I held myself from cleaning my ears in case I heard that wrong.
Vincent. Fucking. Moretti?!
My jaw went slack before I snapped it shut. The bastard just raised his champagne glass toward me, his golden eyes glinting like he'd planned this reveal for himself.
I turned my head to Rita, noticing the questioning look she gave me.
One that basically said: "Did you know about this?"
No, Rita, I fucking didn't!
The host kept going, oblivious or maybe delighting in the spectacle. "Production begins in September, so make sure to clear your schedules. Sparks will definitely fly between these two leading men!"
Cue the laughter and cheering whistles.
I gripped the mic the host handed me, trying to remember how to breathe.
Every word of my planned thank-you speech vanished. All I could think was how Hollywood had just chained me to the man I hated most... and broadcasted it to the entire world.
And when I finally forced myself to glance at Vincent again, there was the faintest smirk on his face.
I knew that smile all too well... It was a silent threat.
But I'd be damned before I let that wannabe male Regina George get into my head.
"I don't know what you're playing... but game on, bitch."