I felt like I had gone through some kind of decontamination procedure, and my skin was raw and tender. I’d removed as much of the terrible tan as I could, short of a full-body chemical peel. As long as I avoided fluorescent lighting, particularly on the stubborn streaks on my legs leading down to my muddy-looking ankles, I should be fine, right? Or had I just stared at myself for so long I couldn’t remember the real colour of my skin?

Where was Billie when I needed her brutal honesty? I had to run the standard pre-outing questions by her: ‘Does my bum look big in this?’ and ‘Do I look like a faded peach?’

I opted for a dress that covered a bit more skin, with my hair down, covering my shoulders. I shifted from side to side in front of the mirror, pangs of anxiety clawing at me. God, I really needed a second opinion.

Someone who would give me the most honest opinion, who wouldn’t pull any punches, who had seen me at my most orangey worst.

I stilled.

Surely I couldn’t.

What? Ask Jay if I looked alright, actually invite his criticism? How ridiculous. Weren’t men programmed to lie when responding to such trick questions anyway? I sighed, looking over my reflection once more.

‘Only one way to find out, I guess.’

I made a determined line down the hall, opening the front door and stepping into the small alcove, stopping to take a deep, steadying breath.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

I squared my shoulders, stepped forward and rapped on Jay’s door. I made sure my knocks sounded strong, confident. After all, this was no big deal.

After waiting a long minute I was ready to duck back into my door and pretend I was never here. Seriously, what the hell was I thinking? Jay and I weren’t friends. Just because he’d admitted that he didn’t hate me didn’t mean he was my confidant. But it was too late; the moment I turned Jay’s door swung open, whipping an aroma of delicious spices from his place into my nostrils, causing my stomach to rumble involuntarily. Jay stood there, drying his hands on a tea towel. If he was surprised to see me he didn’t let on; he simply leant against his doorway, waiting for me to stop staring.

I was frozen in the breezeway, caught between my door and his, confused about what to do now. Jay kinked a brow at me, waiting for me to say something, but my mind went blank. How could I possibly stand here and ask how I looked? While I was at it, perhaps I could do a twirl and lift out my legs for him to examine – which, by the way, he already was, giving them a long, lingering assessment in my heels and knee-length black number, this one with sleeves and covering a little bit more of my orange-tinged skin. This had been such a dumb idea; I would simply ask for some sugar or something.

Just when I was about to stammer my way through some lame excuse, Jay saved me from myself. ‘You look beautiful.’

My jaw went slack – I was now frozen for a completely different reason, no less awkward but far more surprised. I double-blinked.

‘R-really?’ I asked, disbelieving that those words had come out of Jay’s mouth.

‘Really,’ he said, finding my shock extremely amusing. ‘Hey, listen, can you give me ten? I’ve just got to take this off the simmer and then I’m pretty much ready to go,’ he said, pushing off the door jamb and heading back into his apartment.

I stood there, confused, edging forward and slowly peering through his open doorway. ‘Ah, go? Go where?’ I called out, seeing nothing but a narrow hall curving off into the unknown, the mirror image of Billie’s entryway.

I stepped inside tentatively, listening in case he replied. But all I could hear was clattering and movement in the kitchen, running water and the tapping of utensils. Before I thought through what I was doing, I stepped down the hall, following the sounds and being lured by the mouthwatering aromas.

I moved into the opening near the kitchen, expecting to find Jay standing in a space identical to our own next door. But apart from the layout, Jay’s place had nothing in common with ours and it really took me aback. It was a whole other world away from Billie’s boho, eclectic faux furs and fabrics, potted greenery and eccentric clutter. This was sleek and minimalistic, but uber-stylish.

I took in the glass tabletops, glossy hardwood flooring and high-tech surround sound system; everything was modern with sharp edges, decorated sparingly with carefully planned placement of items that obviously had meaning. Unlike Billie’s dated kitchen, Jay’s was stainless-steel perfection that any chef would be happy to have. There was a serious amount of money outlaid in his condo, though it wasn’t showy and denoted a great sense of style – undeniably Jay. It was strange to watch him in his natural habitat, moving around and working on seasoning a pot, stirring and then sliding to the sink to run water over his spoon.

‘Do you like chilli?’

I flinched, coming back to my senses. I was surprised he knew I was here; I had kind of been lurking in the shadows, watching him, which really needed to stop. I cleared my throat and stepped fully into the light.

‘Is that a trick question?’ I asked, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor into the kitchen as I came to stand beside Jay. I looked into the pot he was stirring, surprised by the simplicity of the dish.

‘What? You expected duck cassoulet?’ He laughed, clearly reading my surprise.

‘Isn’t chilli something you cook when you’re on a budget?’ I mused, looking curiously around his plush apartment. Perhaps Jay had spent all his money on his flash car and décor and now had to eat like a pauper.

Jay tapped the side of the pot. ‘Chilli is a classic.’

‘If you say so. All I know is that John Wayne ate it in a Western I watched once.’ I shrugged.

Jay laughed. ‘Is everything you know from a movie?’

I thought about it for a moment. ‘Yeah, pretty much.’

Jay skimmed a sample of chilli onto his spoon, bringing it up to his mouth and blowing on it, cupping his hand underneath to prevent possible drippage onto his immaculate kitchen tops. I watched on in casual amusement, my hip cocked, leaning near the stove. Only when Jay held the spoon out to me did I straighten.

‘Have a taste.’

I scoffed. ‘Ah, no, thanks; I don’t like spicy food.’

Jay smiled, broad and wicked. ‘It’s not that spicy.’

‘Well, forgive me if I don’t believe you.’

‘Whoa, what does a guy have to do to earn your trust?’ he said, relenting and taking the spoonful for himself, his eyes rolling as if he was a culinary genius. ‘Man, that is so good.’

So modest.

‘Okay, that’s done – give me a sec to change and then we can go,’ Jay said, running his hands under the water at the sink, speaking those same confusing words again.

‘Go? Where?’

Jay looked at me, drying his hands. ‘Billie said you needed a lift to Skybar.’

I was going to kill her!

‘Oh God, you don’t have to take me. I have it all worked out – it’s pretty direct,’ I lied. I actually only had a vague idea of where I was going and how I was going to get there, which had given me an immense amount of anxiety and caused me to practically beg Billie to go with me (which she had strenuously declined – again). I’m sure Billie’s request for a night off would have thrilled Jay no end: ‘Oh, hey, Jay, can I take the night off to accompany my best friend to drinks with a bunch of fellow actors that neither of us like?’ Yeah, I could understand why she turned me down.

‘It’s not direct without a car.’

I had wondered if that was why Sienna had chosen the location, guessing that I mightn’t have a car yet. I wouldn’t have put it past her.

‘Still, you must have plans – better things to do than drive me around.’

Jay sighed, looking at me like he wished I would just stop talking. ‘Abby.’

‘Yes?’

‘Take the damn ride.’

I smiled, but only a little because I didn’t want the full extent of my relief to be so apparent. ‘Well, if you insist.’

Sitting on Jay’s black leather couch, waiting for him to appear, I started to doubt everything. Maybe I could call off the drinks; I mean, look at my legs! Had she finger-painted me? What time did the sun go down in LA? Did the bar have mood lighting or harsh lighting?

‘I think I’m going to go and put pants on,’ I called out, moving to stand only to be stopped by Jay appearing from out of his bedroom, shrugging on his jacket and fixing the collar of his stark white shirt. He looked gorgeous: cool, casual but oh so smart. He knew the scene, knew this town like the back of his hand and should he choose to drive me around the entire city, who was I to argue?

‘What did you say?’

I blinked. ‘Oh, nothing. Let’s go.’