Chapter Eleven - 11. The Ball
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Ball
“You alright?” Taylor asked me as we walked across campus to The Laureate, which had an events room we’d paid an absurd amount of money to hire. “You’re quiet.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Just nervous.”
His shoulder nudged mine. “It’ll be fine.”
I pulled away like he was a hot coal. Something flashed across his face, but I didn’t bother to try and decode it.
Was he going to tell me?
Why would he tell you? It’s been a game.
I don’t believe it. He’s not a monster.
Really? Or was it just a long con, getting you in bed, making you care —
But I don’t care. It’s been about sex.
Come on. He was right to call you an idiot. How are you this fucking dumb?
The venue was already crowded and noisy by the time we arrived, everyone in crisp suits and long dresses with glittering heels.
Our tickets were checked by a volunteer whose face I recognised, but rather than staying to chat, I managed a blunt ‘thanks’, and once inside the room, with its high ceilings and light fixtures that hung down like planets on a string, I made a beeline for the bar.
My eyes caught on a display bottle of wine. Never again, I thought, and definitely didn’t think about how Taylor had taken me out to dinner to celebrate my CSS win. He probably just wanted an excuse to eat well. Or to blow his dad’s cash. I’d been silly to feel touched.
I ordered a beer, was handed a bottle that was wet with condensation, and came face to face with Taylor, who was looking at me closely. Maybe something in my eyes warned him not to ask if I was alright again, because he just gestured over his shoulder. “Saw Emery. You want to go over?”
“You go,” I told him. “I need to speak to the committee.”
Without waiting for a response, I pushed myself through the crowd of people. Get it together, Archie.
Someone called my name, and to my relief, it was Lauren and Isla. Lauren wore a slinky emerald green cowl neck dress, while Isla wore a burgundy suit with matching heels.
“The roof isn’t falling down and people look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Lauren said. “I think we deserve a toast.”
I tapped my beer against their glasses of sparkling white wine. “Cheers.” I took a sip and remembered my manners. “You both look great.”
“And so do you,” Isla said. She took out her phone. “I’m going to go around and take photos for social media. If we get evidence of how great the event is, we won’t have so much trouble selling tickets next year.”
Lauren and I waved her off. I looked down at my bottle. Lauren studied her wine.
“Had a full nine hours of sleep last night. Haven’t felt this alive in ages,” she said.
“Are you going to rest up for the winter break?”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I’ve got an internship at a firm in the city.”
I said congratulations. My mind still felt fuzzy, like I was wading through molasses, groping around for things I was supposed to say in this situation. “Thank you again, for choosing me for the committee.”
She gave me a small smile. “Your written application was good. It wasn’t just me that made the decision, though. You won the vote by a landslide.”
“Huh.” I was too distracted to feel embarrassed or pleased about it. “I mean, I’m glad, but I didn’t think my speech was that amazing.”
“It was clear and to the point,” Lauren said, matter of factly. “It also helped that we had more than ten people voting.”
I cocked my head, not sure what she was getting at.
“Sure, any CSS member can vote, but most don’t care about random committee elections.
In the past we’ve barely filled up a row, but that day, the theatre was packed.
I figured one of the applicants had tons of followers, or something.
But if they did,” she mused, “wouldn’t they have gotten all of those votes? ”
I stared at Lauren. My mind still felt like thick mush, probably because every second thought was Taylor’s leaving, Taylor wants to leave.
She had asked me something, looking at me as she waited for a response.
“Pardon?” I managed.
“You’re not secretly a famous influencer, are you?” she asked.
I forced a laughed. “No. Not at all.”
I must’ve still been acting weird, because she gave me a smile, patted me on the shoulder and told me good job for all my work, then drifted away to speak to a friend.
I looked out at the crowd. Smiles and faces flush with alcohol. Blue and silver and pink ties, a few bow-ties here and there, dresses of every shape and style. I surveyed circles of friends, trying to figure out whether I recognised them from the lecture theatre when I gave my speech.
Someone waved a hand enthusiastically. It was Emery, standing with Taylor and Matty. I couldn’t ignore them without looking rude as shit, even though every cell in my body screamed at me to avoid Taylor. Taking a deep swig of my beer to steel myself, I walked over.
“You look very dapper,” Emery said once I was in hearing range, gesturing a hand at me.
“Thank you,” I said. “So do you.” I forced a wide, hopefully convincing smile, at him and Matty. “You guys made it. Glad you found dates.”
“It was nothing. I asked the business chick, went as smooth as apple pie,” Matty said.
“My friend said yeah, didn’t even bat an eye,” Emery said. “She knew that all the Commerce students were being forced to bring plus-ones.”
“Not forced,” I corrected hastily. “Just…encouraged.”
“Taylor’s here too,” Matty said, slapping a hand over his back. A possessive animal urge wanted to shake his hand off Taylor, even though it was the most innocent touch in the world.
What’s wrong with you? You don’t own him. You won’t have him anymore. He was never yours.
“Don’t know how you managed that,” Matty continued, looking at me.
“It wasn’t that hard to convince him,” I said, forcing a light tone of voice.
“Whatever Archie says, I do,” Taylor said, deadpan.
I couldn’t stop myself from glaring at him. Liar.
“Really?” Matty sounded confused. “And Archie said you guys weren’t that close.”
The air shifted.
“I didn’t say that,” I said immediately.
Matty’s brow knitted. “Yeah you did. In the change rooms, after soccer, remember?”
“What did Archie say?” Taylor asked, voice deceptively toneless.
“That you guys were just roommates and Archie needed to boost numbers. ‘Cause I had asked why he hadn’t brought Talia —”
“Who’s Talia?” Emery interjected, eyes swinging from person to person like he was watching a tennis match, but he didn’t understand the rules of the sport.
“No one,” I said.
“Archie’s imaginary girlfriend,” Taylor said.
I glared at him for a second time. This time he returned my gaze, defiant.
What an asshole. At least I was angry now. It was better to feel angry than abandoned.
“Why don’t you fuck off?” I said.
“I’m just saying,” Taylor continued, like he hadn’t heard me, “I’ve never met her. Have you?” he asked Matty. Without waiting for a response, he turned to Emery. “Have you?”
I felt frozen to the floor in my leather dress shoes. Matty’s brow was still creased. His mouth opened, made the shape of the word Talia, eyes fixed on Taylor.
“I’ve got a thing to do,” I announced, the flimsiest excuse in the world, and disappeared into the crush of people, not caring that I was stepping between groups of friends and pushing between lovey-dovey couples.
Music pounded from the speakers, and everyone was talking so loudly, and there was a shriek as someone spilled their drink on someone’s dress, and all I needed was to get the hell away, to go somewhere quiet, where I could be alone.
I pushed through a pair of wooden double doors, and down a marble tiled hallway to the bathrooms. There was a long line to use the women’s, but when I stepped into the men’s, it was blessedly empty.
I entered a cubicle, locked the door, and slumped onto the toilet seat. Maybe I shouldn’t have had that beer. It just made me feel sick.
My phone pinged and I dug it out, for a second thinking it might’ve been Taylor asking if I was alright.
Not that he cares. He’s bored of you now. That’s why he’s leaving.
But it wasn’t Taylor. It was an email notification. Halverton University Sexual Health Clinic Test Results, read the subject line. There was a table, the same word repeated over and over: Negative. Negative. Negative.
I rested my head against the cubicle wall, suppressing a strange instinct to laugh. It didn’t matter now.
Or maybe it did. Taylor had leaned into my touch this morning.
He’d kissed me when I tried on my suit. He’d been more than willing to be touchy, even though he was slowly growing sick of me.
Maybe that was his plan. He’d bide his time, pretend everything was normal, fuck me bareback and look into my eyes, and then next semester, he’d be gone without a word.
Fifteen minutes later, I was contemplating how bad it would look to my fellow committee members if I left early, when the restroom door squealed open.
“— can’t just do nothing,” a voice hissed, echoing over the tiles.
I stiffened, recognising that soft, musical tenor.
“Yeah, I can,” came the resigned reply. My bones seized. Taylor.
“I saw the look on his face,” said Emery.
“I did too,” replied Taylor. “He looked at me like he hated me.”
“He looked hurt,” Emery corrected. “Also, there was no need for you to —”
The rush of a tap blotted out their conversation. I wondered if I should tuck my feet up, but I doubted they were paying attention to the stalls. I held my breath anyway. Anticipation ran hot through me as I waited for Taylor to say something damning, to confirm all my worst fears.
“— used to think this was what I wanted,” came Taylor’s voice when the water stopped running. “But it actually feels worse. I can’t do it anymore.”
“And moving out’s the solution, why?”
“Haven’t you been listening?” Taylor asked impatiently. “Like I said. Living with him is hell.”
It took all of my self control not to make a noise. I felt like I’d been kicked in the soft part of my belly. The worst part was that Taylor sounded like he couldn’t care less.
“Taylor —” Emery began, but the rest of his words were drowned out by a hand dryer. They spoke, but I couldn’t make out the individual words. Emery got snappy though — I could sense it, and that surprised me, because I never heard him be anything other than content and calm.
“—stupid,” he finished.
“Good thing I’m not asking for your advice or permission,” Taylor returned, voice cutting.
That was the Taylor King I knew. I wished it reassured me that he could be icy to other people — to his supposed friends — and not just me. But it didn’t.
There was the fast rhythm of decisive footsteps, and the door slammed loudly behind Emery’s departure.
“Fuck,” Taylor muttered to himself.
That spurred me to stand up. Him, only regretting his behaviour after some had left. How fitting. How predictable. How self-pitying. I opened the cubicle door, seeing Taylor leaning over the sink, hands tight on the porcelain. His face paled as he registered me in the mirror’s reflection.
I didn’t say anything as I walked up to the sink beside him, taking my time to wash my hands.
“Archie —” he began.
It should’ve pleased me to see he looked actually sick. It didn’t, though. All I wanted was for him to hug me and say it was a joke.
“I’m curious,” I began, a wobble in my voice betraying me, “were you going to tell me that you were planning to move out?”
“Did you hear that?” His voice was scratchy.
“I saw it on your computer, before we left. The room transfer request.” Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You don’t even care about him. But I did. I really fucking did. “So you’re leaving me.”
Taylor stared. His brows twitched together, a crease forming in his forehead.
I swallowed thickly. “Guess I should’ve seen this coming. Being near me is hell, huh?”
His face smoothed, like he understood something. He stepped forward, but I moved backwards, out of his reach.
“It’s not like that, Archie. Shit. I’ve — fuck.”
“And thank you,” I continued, “for humiliating me in front of our friends. My imaginary girlfriend. That was just the cherry on the top.”
Taylor opened his mouth, closed it, then seemed to slump, his hands on the sink the only thing keeping him upright. “Matty’s not an idiot,” he said.
I stared at him. “What?”
“Matty’s not an idiot,” Taylor repeated. “He got into this university like we did. If you’d stayed a moment longer, you would’ve heard him figure it out. Taylor. Talia. It’s not exactly a stretch.”
I couldn’t say anything.
“He asked me about the motherfucking maid costume, so he’s an asshole. Just not a stupid one.”
“Did you deny it?” I asked.
“What would be the point?”
“And Emery was there?”
“Emery,” Taylor said, “is also not a complete idiot.” At my expression, he continued, “my bed has been unused for weeks, Archie. I’m pretty sure there’s a layer of dust on it. Emery notices things, because unlike you, he’s not blind.”
“Piss off,” I said. “You don’t get to insult me like that.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.” More quietly: “I’m sorry.”
He actually sounded genuine about it. I gritted my teeth, because I knew he was a liar. All those times when he’d had me in his arms…
“Well, congratulations,” I said, standing up straight, arms crossed. “You got what you wanted. Now you’ll do it to the next roommate, hmm?”
“What did you think I wanted?” he asked.
“I don’t know, my virginity, my body, making me care? Because for a second there, I thought you had a heart.”
Taylor’s mouth opened, then closed. “But I’m just a monster.”
“Seems so,” I said, grateful I sounded so bored, so done.
He took a step forward, but once again, I moved away.
“I’m sorry about what I said about Talia,” he said, and if I didn’t know better, I’d describe him as looking almost frantic.
“But you had told Matty that we were just roommates, that we weren’t even close.
That you’d brought me here as your date to boost numbers. ”
“So?” I said.
“So?” he repeated. “So it’s hypocritical to call me heartless when this whole time, I’ve been nothing to you.”
“We’re nothing to each other,” I made myself say. “That’s obvious now.”
I waited for him to get angry, for his eyes to harden, his jaw to clench. I remembered how we fought, what felt like a century ago now, the way I’d left a bruise on him.
Instead he stepped back, eyes falling to the floor, like it hurt to look at me. He seemed so defeated. Without another word, he walked past me, and left the bathroom.