Page 16 of The Likelihood Of You

Which is why I need to be careful today. And every day after this. I get the impression that this job won’t be a little part-time side hustle that I can rock up to at any time I want, or let it be one big excuse to just stand and gawk at Jacob all day long. This is a job—a professional one. I’ll be on a payroll, for crying out loud. I can’t let whatever school girl’s crush this is get in the way of being good at this job.

Because if I lose it, I go home. And I know there’s a hovering storm cloud of depression waiting for me the moment I step off the plane and back onto English soil, alongside a grovelling ex-fiancé, and an ex-sister as far as I care.

I’ll also lose any hope of opening that bakery I want. Need, in fact. The more I’m here, the more I release just how much I need to do this. I think I owe it to the little girl and her fairy cakes to be the successfully independent lady she was told she could never be without her trust fund-owning fiancé.

I was going to change that.

Once I’m ready, I grab the four tupperware boxes off my kitchen counter that are filled to the brim with my pain au chocolates I panic baked at 11:00 PM last night, mostly to distract me from how nervous I was about today, partly because I wanted to make a good impression, and kind of so I can gain a clientele for when I have my bakery.

Tackling three birds with one pastry, some would say.

I make the short walk from my place to the subway, slyly admiring my staple blue mom jeans and cropped cable knit jumper that shows off my waist in the boutique shop windows as I pass them, those tupperware boxes piled high in my arms. I then try to navigate my wayaround a maze of offices and swanky apartment buildings from the station before finding a building at the address Jacob texted me. I reach a gate with a speaker bolted to the front of it. And a keypad.

Oh fuck.

Jacob didn’t tell me a code to get in. How am I going to get in? If I’m late on my first day, I’ll cry, and that’s the last thing I need to do today. I can’t even reach the speaker because I decided to bake a stupid amount of pastries, probably enough to feed the East Village. I tear my gaze away from the gate and look down the street for any sign of life that could save me from this dilemma, and I spot three figures in the distance.

They’re stood opposite one another, chatting about something. They don’t seem to have badges or anything indicating that they work here, but they might. And there’s no one else around, and I’m starting to sweat at the thought of being late, so I walk over to them. I don’t want to interrupt whatever conversation they’ve got going on, but I need help. As I get closer, one of them looks familiar.

The tall, well-dressed figure has their back to me, but as I realise I’ve scoped out this back once before, it takes me mere seconds to clock that it’s Jacob. His shoulders give him away. But as he’s facing the others, he doesn’t spot me; none of them do. In fact, I’m really close to all of them now, and no one has spotted me. This is so awkward. The tupperware only doubles it.

“Hi!” I croak out, and the group turns around to face me.

There’s two guys, one is Jacob, and a girl. The other guy and the girl both pass me confused but friendly looks, eyeing up the boxes in my hand as they do, while Jacob has a smile stuck on his face, one that makes his nose crinkle and draws my attention to the dusting offreckles that sit over it. I try not to let it show how weak and flustered his smile makes me, or let myself question if he’s smiling because of me. He might just be a really big morning person.

Or he’s happy to see you.

“Oh hey!” Jacob says, that smile not budging. “Guy’s, this is Flo. She’s gonna be joining the assistant team.” And without another word, he takes two boxes away from my leaning tower replica.

The other guy, who has an alarmingly familiar face, turns his face to Jacob, his eyes wide, which intrigues me, before he turns to me. He’s a bit shorter than Jacob, but still a staggering six feet. He has the same brown hair, but with pops of gold laced throughout, that mixed well with the harsh green in his eyes, both complementing the deep olive shade of his skin. He has on some deep blue dad jeans and an oversized faded Star Wars T-shirt…and is also extremely good-looking.

“Nate, pleased to meet you.” He says, whilst putting a hand out for me to shake it, then retracting it as he clocks the boxes again, and instead taking a box like Jacob did, before pointing his other hand over to the girl. “This is Adaline, or Addy…for short.”

I smile over towards Nate before turning to do the same to Adaline.

What is in the water in New York? Why is everyone so bloody gorgeous?

The more I stare at the two of them, the more familiar their faces become. I try and rack the shelves of my brain to figure out how I know them, but with everything else stacked up there today, it’s useless, so I drift my attention back to Addy.

She’s about my height, but has shoulder-length auburn hair and eyes that beautifully match her fiery waves. Her skin was light ivory,her cheeks were flushed pink, and her jeans and oversized striped jumper perfectly hugged her midsize figure.

She bobs her head to the side and walks over to me with her arms reaching up to take another pastry stuffed box off me, and I pass her a grateful smile. “Hi honey, it’s nice to meet you,” she says softly. “I’ll show you the way in, best to get out of here before the paps turn up.” She ushers me under her arm and back towards the entrance of the building. "Come find me later, and I'll show you how to scare them off if they ever get too close."

As I walk toward the gate with Adaline, or Addy, I guess, I look back to see if Jacob and Nate are following, but they’re not. They look like they’re talking about something on an MI6 level of secrecy from how close their faces are. But as much as I want to carry on looking at Jacob, I swing my head away, because I’ll get distracted again.

After Addy punches in the code, the ridiculously heavy gate opens with a squeak, and we both walk up the path to the revolving door of the studio, chatting as we do. I try to catch my breath the best I can, to ease the nerves that were beginning to brew again.

Okay, brain, you little tart, you need to focus. Let’s get through the day without thinking about your parents. Or Sydney. Or Hugo. Or Jacob. Or his smile from two minutes ago. Or, God herself forbid it, that kiss.

I’ll be okay. Everything will be okay.

Or…totally tubular, should I say?

Chapter six

Jacob

After nearly eight hours of watching Florence glide around the set, handing out sweet smilesandwhatever was in those boxes she was carrying to everyone who walked in her direction, it became blindingly clear that her gravitational pull could affect anyone and everyone.

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