22
Don’t Sit In Between Them — Adelaide
Spotting Mia and Sabrina in the crowd, I followed their path out of the ballroom and into the dining room where three long tables fit for serving an army spanned the space.
A hand brushed my wrist as I passed over the threshold. I jerked it back, expecting to find Dorian.
“There you are, we never got to dance,” James said, his mask pushed over his hair.
“I know, I’m so sorry. I really just needed some air,” I winced, hoping he, and everyone else, hadn’t realized I was with Dorian.
“It’s alright, there’s always another ball or gala to dance at.” He laughed. “Come, let’s sit.”
Before I could find Mia or Sabrina, James was pulling out two seats at the center of the table for us.
“Have your thoughts on holidays changed yet?” he asked.
“Oh Jameson, I’m not that easy.” I smoothed out the hair on the top of my head as I pulled my own mask off.
“Come on, you can’t say you aren’t having fun.”
“Maybe a little.” I pinched the air.
He laughed, shaking his head. His smile twinkled under the chandelier.
I reached for his hand on the arm of the chair. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“It wouldn’t have been worth coming if you weren’t here.” He squeezed my hand back. His gaze skipped from my face to a space behind me. “There he is. I haven’t seen you all night!” He stood, taking a few steps from the table.
“Sorry, I was busy arguing with—”
I turned around at the sound of his voice. James stepped to the side just enough, halting Dorian’s sentence.
“Adelaide, how nice to see you tonight,” Dorian commented.
“Good to see you,” I responded with a closed lip smile.
“Who were you arguing with?” James asked, taking a seat again.
Dorian took a step forward, right as an older woman filled the seat beside James. He looked at me, and then the open seat beside me.
Oh no. Please, no.
He slid the chair out and sat down, looking as if he was taking a seat beside the dreaded Aunt Margaret he mentioned once.
How quickly I had fallen to Aunt Margaret status.
He took his cloth napkin and folded it over his leg before leaning towards me— towards James to answer his question. I pressed my back firmly against the chair. A button from the cushion pierced my spine. I’d let it drill a hole through my skin though.
“I was arguing with this girl. I had invited her to come last night, but she turned me down and showed up anyway,” Dorian explained.
Dammit, Dorian .
“She’s here, right now?” James was abashed. Then he leaned in. I could smell his woodsy cologne and see the rich brown of his hair growing in at the root.
“Yup. And I found her kissing another guy.”
“What? You need to point her out.”
“Actually, I think you know her—”
“I can just move so you both can speak,” I offered eagerly, trying to end this conversation.
Placing my hands on the side of my chair, I pushed myself up—
“No,” they blurted out. Their hands landed on my legs. Dorian’s right hand on my left thigh and James’s left on my right. All of my blood rushed to my lap. Their hands projected catastrophic levels of heat into my skin despite the fabric of my dress dividing the grasps.
“Okay …” I agreed, sitting back down.
They immediately retrieved their hands.
With a cleared throat from James and a slug of wine from Dorian, I was left ironing the silk on my lap with my hands.
James spoke up. “Um, so, the weather has been really great despite it being the end of October and everything—”
Buzz . My phone screen lit up.
“Thank god,” Dorian muttered.
I reached for the phone.
Mia: Everything good over there?
My head snapped up, and I found Mia sitting directly in front of us—two tables down, twenty feet away.
Her eyebrows rose as she stared at both boys.
Me: Am I providing you with ample entertainment?
Mia: Almost too much. I don’t know if I can fit this all on Monday night’s call. My cousins will have lots of follow-up questions. Like if throuples are common in England.
Me: There is no throupleness happening over here.
Me: Does Sabrina see Dorian?
Mia: Luckily, no. She thinks you’re talking with James. She’s busy chatting with his mom anyway.
Me: YOU’RE SITTING WITH CRESSIDA brEYER?!?
Mia: Should I have mentioned that first?
Me: Mia.
Mia: I’m kiddingggg. I actually asked her about summer internships because I know how you think eight months in advance for everything. Beverly “typically puts out internship listings in November” and “favors high GPAs and a personable cover letters”. But they’re only hiring one public relations intern…
Me: Shit.
Mia: Why don’t you tell her you’re interested?
Me: And get a leg up because I’m friends with her son? I don’t think so.
Mia: Why do you have to be so moral??? People use connections all the time. Nepotism is the cause of generational wealth.
Me: I’m not using James! I want them to hire me because they’re impressed by me anyways.
Mia: Fine.
Mia: You could always talk to James.
Me: We’re not saying anything to James.
Three dots appeared and disappeared.
Me: Say it.
Mia: You should consider asking your aunt. She used to work for a company like Beverly. Maybe she still has her cover letter.
I stared at the phone. She was right. But I didn’t want to.
Asking for help meant revealing that I couldn’t do everything on my own and admitting that to her. It meant owing her one more thing on top of the tower of things I already owed her for living under her roof.
But I wanted this internship. It was the stepping stone to my Dream Life. I just didn’t know if I was willing to ask for help when I had come this far without it.
The sound of glass hitting the tablecloth pulled me from my phone.
I looked up and realized Dorian had left.