by T L Swan
“Hurry up,” James whispers though the door.
“Okay,” I reply. “What’s the damn rush?”
I reapply my lipstick and fluff my hair up in the mirror before I open the door.
“I can’t believe we are at this party?” James whispers excitedly as he grips both my biceps.
I frown. “Why?”
“This is the clique?”
“The clique?”
“Anybody who is anybody will be here tonight. These fundraising parties are epic.”
“Oh, epic. Cool. You probably should shag someone, then.” I widen my eyes in disgust.
He smirks and nods as his eyes scan ahead of us. “I could not agree with you more.”
“You can pay for my cab, though, if you do,” I mutter as he grabs my elbow and leads me toward the music.
“Deal.”
We walk out to the back garden and I stop dead in my tracks. Oh shit. This is a bit more than I expected. There are around one hundred and fifty beautiful people all gathered around. The sound of laughter and chatter can be heard everywhere, and a violin player is down below on the grassed area. A huge pool sits in the center, and the back yard is terraced into different levels with a large stone staircase down the center to each level. It’s about 4pm and the sun is just starting to disappear behind the trees. The bottom level has a marquee set with the tables and chairs for the soon-to-be-served dinner. Huge trees line the large entertaining area, and I have to stop my mouth from dropping open.
“What shall we do?” James smiles excitedly.
I frown as I look around at all the people. “To be honest, I kind of want to go home.”
“No.” He drags me toward the stairs. “Let’s go find our seat at the table and have a drink. You are not wrecking this night for me. We are going to have fun.” He smiles excitedly.
“I guess.” I sigh.
We walk down to the marquee to find waiters circling the room with glasses of champagne, and a doorman with a seating schedule at the entry. We walk over to him.
“Hello.” He smiles.
“James Williams and Emerson Mathews.”
He goes through his list and James glances at me. We are so not going to be on this list. This could be embarrassing.
“Ah, yes, table twenty-one.”
“Thank you.” I smile gratefully and we make our way to the back.
“Oh, man. We are on the shit table,” James whispers, annoyed.
I smirk. “What did you expect? We don’t know a soul here. We are the losers, here by default.”
“Speak for yourself. One of these society girls will be my bitch tonight,” he murmurs as he takes two champagnes from a passing tray.
I smirk as I take mine from him. “I kind of think you will be the bitch in the equation, to be honest.”
He raises his eyebrows and smiles cheekily as he looks around. “That will work, too.”
We sit at the table and people watch for a while as the sun continues to set. Large fire lanterns are now being lit around the perimeter.
“This is ridiculous wealth, right?”
“I know,” James mutters. “Come on, let’s go check it out. We are being unsocial.”
We stand and make our way back out of the marquee and head up the stairs to level two. A cocktail bar is situated front and center, and waitresses are walking around with trays of appetizers. I take a lobster ball. “Even the snacks are flash.” I smile as I eat it in one go.
We stand for a few moments when two guys walk over. One is tall with dark hair. The other is blonde and really short. “Hello.” They smile.
“Hi,” we reply.
“This is a great turn out, isn’t it?” The blonde man says.
“Yes, fantastic,” James replies, excited that someone wants to talk to us.
They start to talk while I glance around at our opulent surroundings. This really is something else. I’m on my fourth champagne when the tinkering of the dinner bell sounds and everyone starts to make their way back down to the bottom level to the marquee. James has been talking to these two men for about an hour now. He is being so pathetically nice I may puke any moment. Instead, I have remained relatively silent. Honestly, I just don’t have it in me to even make the effort to talk to men at the moment. We take our seat in the packed dining area and introduce ourselves to everyone we are among. They all seem nice enough, and we enjoy our beautiful meal.
Dessert is just being served and the table is in conversation when a good-looking older guy gets up on stage. The crowd all clap loudly. I glance over to see James is smiling broadly while clapping.
I tap him on the leg and he frowns at me in question.
“Aren’t you supposed to be taking photos and stuff?” I whisper.
His eyes widen. “Shit, yes. I forgot I’m working.”
I giggle. “You’re an idiot. How could you forget?”
He shuffles around and retrieves his camera from his bag before he stands and walks closer to the stage.
The elderly good-looking man holds his hands up and everyone laughs. I don’t know who he is, but everyone else seems to. He’s clearly very popular. I smile into my champagne glass.
“Thank you everyone for coming tonight. Welcome to the annual sixth Art Collaboration Fundraiser. To date this team has raised thirteen million pounds” He smiles broadly and the crowd all cheer and whistle.
Wow, that’s impressive. They must work hard. The waitress places a piece of cheesecake in front of me, and a huge slice of mud cake in front of James. I smile and immediately swap them over so I have the chocolate cake.
He holds his hand out to the side. “May I present our committee?”
Everyone claps loudly.
I shovel my first mouthful of chocolate cake into my mouth as I look up to see the team of six walk onto the stage.
The blood drains from my face.
“We have Magdeline Rushmore. Star O’Shea. Roberta Mumford. Amanda Marx. And last, but by no means least, Rachel Runner.” The crowd all cheer.
Are you fucking kidding me? I sit and stare at the stage in shock.
He’s here. Alastar is here.
No!
He stands on stage in an expensive well-fitted navy suit and a white shirt. Big, kissable lips stare back at me, and his messed up, dark, wavy hair looking absolutely dreamy. And to top it all off, he’s completely oblivious to my presence.
I drop my head as I swallow my cake whole.
Oh my God. Oh. My. Fucking. God.
I start to look around in a panic for an exit. What are the damn chances of running into him here? And he has to be on the fucking committee, doesn’t he?
I am not seeing him again. I’m too ashamed of how pathetic I acted last time we met—crying and begging him to return my feelings after only just meeting. Feelings that seemed so real at the time… actually, they still do. I can’t explain it because I don’t even understand it myself. God, he even left me in his house to get away from me. I’m so embarrassed.
The committee sits back down into their seats and the entertainment starts. It’s a band playing covers, and a small dance floor to the left of me soon begins to fill. I sit still in my seat as I watch Alastar through the crowd. He’s sitting on the table with Monica and Tabatha and they are all laughing. He has an arm casually slung over the back of one of the chairs and his drink in his other hand. Everyone at the table seems to hang off everything he says and then they all sporadically burst into laughter. That’s his wit—that damn annoying, dry, witty sense of humor. For fifteen minutes, I put myself through hell by watching him enjoying himself.
I text Brielle.
Kill me now.
Alastar is here.
A reply bounces back.
What the fuck?
What did he say?
I text back.
He hasn’t seen me.
She texts straight back.
Abort mission.
Get the hell out of there.
Sadness f
ills me. She’s right. I’m not embarrassing myself further. I text back.
Okay. I’m leaving now.
Ring you when I get home.
She texts back.
Love you.
xx
I need to leave. I look around as I try to come up with an escape plan. I take out my phone and Google taxi service. Nothing comes up. What do they call it here? I look over to the nerdy man sitting across from me.
“If I wanted to call a cab, who would I call from here?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure, to be honest.”
My face falls. “Oh.”
Sensing my disappointment, he stands. “Hang on a second. I will find out for you.”
I smile gratefully. “Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.” He stands and disappears into the crowd.
I put my head into my hands. I have never been so grateful to be on the back table at an event in all of my life. My eyes flick back to Alastar who is now standing and talking to a group of men. He looks so happy… so unaffected and normal.
Damn him.
He has totally ruined my poor innocent heart and he doesn’t have a care in the world. I, however, have gained five kilos and aged ten years. Brielle thinks it’s a good thing. She says I will never take another good man for granted again, and she could be onto something. The man who went to find out about the cab comes back to the table with Tabatha following him. I close my eyes. Oh no. It’s getting worse.
“This is the girl.” He gestures to me.
Tabatha smiles. “Oh, Emerson. It’s you that wants the cab?” She seems surprised. I just want the earth to swallow me up.
I fake a smile. “Ah, yes. I’m not feeling well. Sorry to be a bother.” I can’t believe the idiot went and got her, of all people.
“Come with me.” She grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd and out onto the terrace. “I have a driver here who can take you home.”
“Really?”
“Sure. He’s just taking someone home now, but he will be back soon. You can wait up in the house if you want?”
I smile. “Thank you so much for a lovely night.”
She pulls me into an embrace to cuddle me then yells over my shoulder. “Oh, Star. Come and meet my new friend Emerson.”
Fuck!
Dread fills me. I pull out of her embrace and turn to see Alastar standing behind me. I swallow the lump in my throat.
“Hello,” I murmur.
A soft smile crosses his face. “Hello, Em.”
It’s there again, that stupid chemistry. The air crackles between us and I drop my head. I can’t even look at him.
Tabatha takes out her phone and calls someone. “Hey, it’s me.”
She listens and then smiles. “I have someone else who needs a lift home.”
She listens again and Alastar frowns as his eyes flicker between us. “I will take Emerson home,” he interrupts.
I shake my head. No.
She puts her hand over the phone and shakes her head at him. “You are not going yet. We have too much to do.”
She puts her arm around me in a reassuring gesture. “She’s not well.”
Alastar steps toward me. “Are you sick?” he whispers.
Yeah, sick of you. “I’ll be fine,” I reply, still unable to make eye contact with him.
He grabs my hand. “What’s wrong?”
My eyes finally meet his and I rip my hand from his grip. “Don’t touch me,” I say sharply.
He steps back and his eyes hold mine. If he didn’t know I am furious with him before, he definitely knows now. Tabatha gets off the phone and turns to me. “He will meet you up in the main house in about fifteen minutes. Is that okay?”
I smile. “Thank you so much.” I bend and give her a quick peck on the cheek then turn and take the stairs. I walk into the house with my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
I just want to get out of here and I feel the perspiration start to creep across my body. I have never been so uncomfortable in all of my life. I go to the front balcony and take a seat on the bench against the wall in the silence as I wait for my lift. I take out my phone and text James.
Hi, James. I’ve gone home.
Have a great night.
Em x
I hear the the door jam creak and I turn to see Alastar walk out onto the front porch. I turn back to look out into the darkness.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I don’t answer. I stay silent. I have nothing to say to him.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asks. “I will take you now. I won’t stay.”
I still don’t answer.
“What’s wrong, baby. Talk to me.”
I roll my eyes. Of all the nerve. That’s it, I can’t stand it. “I’m not your baby.”
“Em—”
I cut him off. “Don’t.”
He stays silent.
I keep looking out into the darkness. What is it about this guy? Why in the hell does he affect me like this? I feel like I can’t breathe.
Please, just go away.
“I need to know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you in pain?”
“What do you care? Seriously. Go inside, Alastar.”
He doesn’t answer.
We stay silent, me sitting on the chair and him standing, leaning against the wall. We both look out into the darkness of the property, deep in our own thoughts.
The car pulls up and the driver gets out. “Are you the young lady I am driving?” he calls out.
“Yes, please.” I stand, walk over to the car, and get in without looking back.
Alastar still doesn’t speak.
The car drives off as he watches from his position. I put my head back against the seat and blow out a depressed breath.
That’s it. Game over.
Alastar
It’s 2am and I pace back and forth outside the front of Emmaline’s building. It’s not the first time I have been here, and to be honest, it probably won’t be the last.
Much to the disgust of Thomas, I came home from America after only ten days. I needed to be closer to her.
I’m having second thoughts that I have done the right thing. Every day away from her brings a new set of doubts. What if it happens, anyway? What am I missing out on because of my fear?
How high of a price am I prepared to pay? My mind is constantly jumping from scenario to scenario. This could happen if I do… but then this could happen if I don’t.
Nothing could happen at all. What if I am doing all of this for nothing?
Seeing her tonight has brought it to a sickening climax for me. I need to speak to her. I can’t stand the thought that I hurt her or knowing that she doesn’t want to have anything to do with me.
Fuck, I handled things so badly at the end. I pace back and forth for over an hour with my mind in turmoil. I stare up at her window, hoping she can see me down on the street, imagining that she comes down to see me and kisses me as she jumps into my arms, but I know she wouldn’t, even if she could see me.
I take out my phone and stare at it. I click on her name and scroll through the messages we have sent each other. I would give anything for one of those goodnight messages right now. I look back up at her window.
Fuck it. I dial her number.
It rings for a long time. I am just about to hang up.
“Hello,” her sleepy voice whispers.
A smile crosses my face at the sound of her voice. “Hello, Emmaline.”
She pauses. “Alastar.” Her voice is emotionless.
Silence hangs between us as I stand in the darkness.
“You’re okay?” I ask softly.
“Yes.”
“Are you still feeling unwell?” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
She hesitates. “I was never sick, Alastar. I needed an excuse to leave the party.”
My heart drops. “Why?”
“Because I didn’t want to
see you.”
I stay silent, her rejection cutting through me like a knife.
“I see,” I whisper quietly.
More silence.
“I should let you go,” I murmur.
She hesitates. “Is there something you wanted to say, Alastar?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply softly.
I know what I want to say. I also know I shouldn’t.
“Goodbye, Emmaline.”
The phone goes dead.
I blow out a steadying breath and place my hands on my head in disappointment as I continue to pace.
Emerson
I sit at the kitchen table and drink my tea. It’s 6am and I have hardly slept. I feel like shit, to be honest. When I got home last night I vented to poor Brielle for an hour over the phone about the Irish Fiasco. Then, after a string of violent strobe lights flashing in my eyes, I finally fell asleep, only to be woken up when Alastar rang me. I haven’t been able to fall back to sleep since. God, I wanted to see him last night. I would have given anything to hear him ask to see me—to give me an explanation—to heal my poor, broken heart. I keep seeing him sitting at the table at the fundraiser so unaffected and so damn freaking gorgeous.
Vanessa comes out of her room in a rush. “Crap, I slept in.”
I frown. “Where are you going at his hour?”
“I’m filling in for a breakfast shift for someone.”
“What time were you supposed to be there?”
She looks at her watch. “Now.”
She rushes around and grabs her bag, taking her phone from her charger and opening the front door in a rush. “See you,” she calls. “Fucking hell!” she yells.
