gaze right on her bum, his hands slowly trailing down her back. When I glanced back at her, it became apparent that she was having just as much trouble ignoring this as I was watching it. “Where are you from?”
She bit her lip, her hand flying to his, stopping him in action. “The country,” she replied with a tight voice.
I nodded, but I could not deny the frown on her face, or the fact that she looked extremely uncomfortable. She stood tense and stiff in front of me, her eyes rapidly darting around the room. I opened my mouth, to say what, I hadn’t decided, but before I could embarrass myself any more, she slammed her champagne glass onto the next tray that came by.
“Look, I’d love to stand here and have a fake conversation with you, but I am far beyond my patience with this crowd,” and with a glare in Peter’s direction she added, “And my date. So if you’ll excuse me…” With that, she disappeared into the crowd.
Peter hadn’t even realized what happened until he watched her scurry up the stairs. “Nisha! Come back!” he roared.
Everyone within several meters’ radius turned to see what all of the fuss was about.
I ignored him and the crowd and followed her outside. I didn’t know why I did it or what I would hope to come of it. I didn’t really know who she was and barely had a name to go off of…but what I did know was that if I didn’t follow her, if I didn’t force her to remember me, I was going to regret it for the rest of my life.
Chapter Three – Edward
It was a small piece of paper, torn out from a personal diary. A number- ten digits- was written on it in shaky handwriting with a gel pen. I didn’t know why, but she seemed nervous… very nervous, which didn’t make any sense. She was the one who looked like a goddess. Nevertheless, it was the nerves that assured me that she would call. In fact, the first thing I did when I woke up that morning was check my voicemails, texts… all of it. My eyes flipped open and I was already thinking of her.
But out of the four text messages, three missed calls, and two voicemails, none of them were from her. By the time I got into the office and took my place on the top floor, with my trusty secretary sitting guard, I was beginning to rethink my whole decision. She probably thought I was a bit odd… and completely drunk. If I called her now, she might think I was the stalker type. She might not want to talk to me. But if I didn’t call her… and she never called me back, I would never see her again. The first choice was a gamble.
The second choice wasn’t a choice at all.
This thought had only just crossed my mind when I heard a knock on the door. I scoffed. Why hadn’t Bridget buzzed...
“Mr. Worthington, Felix Horace.” Her sharp voice followed a quick buzz.
In the next second, the door opened and Felix stepped in. “What the hell are you up to, mate?”
“Look,” I started, taking my feet off of my desk and pulling the chair up, “Just because I’ve known you my whole life, doesn’t mean you’re okay to come barging in to my office like this.”
Felix raised an eyebrow as he took a seat across from me. “I’m not just your best friend. I’m your campaign manager… And this is unacceptable.” He slammed the Morning Star onto the desk.
I picked it up, my stomach lurching at the sight of an extremely unflattering photo of myself standing at the top of the staircase at that party. I peered at the photo, wondering how I could have been so oblivious to the state of my pasty face. “I look sick,” I muttered in horror.
“No,” Felix countered. “You look bloody drunk,” he replied, folding his arms across his large chest and setting his hefty jaw.
“Well, fuck the Morning Star,” I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee. I winced. It had gone cold. “No one takes them seriously anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter whether people are taking
She bit her lip, her hand flying to his, stopping him in action. “The country,” she replied with a tight voice.
I nodded, but I could not deny the frown on her face, or the fact that she looked extremely uncomfortable. She stood tense and stiff in front of me, her eyes rapidly darting around the room. I opened my mouth, to say what, I hadn’t decided, but before I could embarrass myself any more, she slammed her champagne glass onto the next tray that came by.
“Look, I’d love to stand here and have a fake conversation with you, but I am far beyond my patience with this crowd,” and with a glare in Peter’s direction she added, “And my date. So if you’ll excuse me…” With that, she disappeared into the crowd.
Peter hadn’t even realized what happened until he watched her scurry up the stairs. “Nisha! Come back!” he roared.
Everyone within several meters’ radius turned to see what all of the fuss was about.
I ignored him and the crowd and followed her outside. I didn’t know why I did it or what I would hope to come of it. I didn’t really know who she was and barely had a name to go off of…but what I did know was that if I didn’t follow her, if I didn’t force her to remember me, I was going to regret it for the rest of my life.
Chapter Three – Edward
It was a small piece of paper, torn out from a personal diary. A number- ten digits- was written on it in shaky handwriting with a gel pen. I didn’t know why, but she seemed nervous… very nervous, which didn’t make any sense. She was the one who looked like a goddess. Nevertheless, it was the nerves that assured me that she would call. In fact, the first thing I did when I woke up that morning was check my voicemails, texts… all of it. My eyes flipped open and I was already thinking of her.
But out of the four text messages, three missed calls, and two voicemails, none of them were from her. By the time I got into the office and took my place on the top floor, with my trusty secretary sitting guard, I was beginning to rethink my whole decision. She probably thought I was a bit odd… and completely drunk. If I called her now, she might think I was the stalker type. She might not want to talk to me. But if I didn’t call her… and she never called me back, I would never see her again. The first choice was a gamble.
The second choice wasn’t a choice at all.
This thought had only just crossed my mind when I heard a knock on the door. I scoffed. Why hadn’t Bridget buzzed...
“Mr. Worthington, Felix Horace.” Her sharp voice followed a quick buzz.
In the next second, the door opened and Felix stepped in. “What the hell are you up to, mate?”
“Look,” I started, taking my feet off of my desk and pulling the chair up, “Just because I’ve known you my whole life, doesn’t mean you’re okay to come barging in to my office like this.”
Felix raised an eyebrow as he took a seat across from me. “I’m not just your best friend. I’m your campaign manager… And this is unacceptable.” He slammed the Morning Star onto the desk.
I picked it up, my stomach lurching at the sight of an extremely unflattering photo of myself standing at the top of the staircase at that party. I peered at the photo, wondering how I could have been so oblivious to the state of my pasty face. “I look sick,” I muttered in horror.
“No,” Felix countered. “You look bloody drunk,” he replied, folding his arms across his large chest and setting his hefty jaw.
“Well, fuck the Morning Star,” I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee. I winced. It had gone cold. “No one takes them seriously anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter whether people are taking
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