Chapter 30 #2
“I think we might be moving—” said Dorian with some desperation. He looked to the PR person for help.
“No, we’ve got time,” she said, and smiled.
Her colleagues, likewise black-suited and clutching clipboards and mobile phones, were ushering out the lesser-caliber guests.
“Alex King!” shouted Cecilia.
Stacy’s face turned to ice.
“You saw him? Here?”
“Not here,” assured Dorian.
“I’m so sorry,” Lily interrupted brightly. “Should I stay here or go now with everyone else? I have no idea how these things run.”
Stacy turned her pale eyes on Lily, flicked them back to Cecilia with suspicion, but decided that patronizing Lily was a better use of her time than chasing her own misery.
Lily smiled. Her ruse worked. “I must look a bit ridiculous.”
“Well, the boots don’t help, honey,” Stacy Black drawled.
Dorian inserted himself between Cecilia and Stacy and shot Lily a look of gratitude.
Within minutes the bulk of the guests had been funneled out, taking the party atmosphere with them.
In the lull they left behind, Lily felt the mood shift to one of tense anticipation.
It was like being in the wings of a huge stage, waiting for the show to start.
Dorian fell silent, Casey became more ebullient.
Cecilia adjusted the tendrils of her hairstyle and lifted her chin even higher.
All around them publicity and event professionals ramped up whatever it was they were doing (Lily couldn’t precisely tell what that was).
Soon, the party was being ushered out of the function room, through the lobby, and out into the street, surrounded at all times by security guards who were so discreet that Lily wasn’t even aware of them until Sigrid pointed them out.
Then somehow they emerged miraculously onto a red carpet in front of a cinema, on the celebrity side of a velvet rope, and Dorian was ushered toward the photographers’ backdrop screen amid a pop of camera flashes.
Photographers and fans alike shouted his name.
In the chaos, the PR person orchestrated photos of Dorian on his own, then with cast members, the producers, the director, through all of which Dorian somehow managed to remain devastatingly cool.
He was then piloted toward a waiting barrage of reporters with cameras and microphones, where he was obliged to smile politely and answer every question that was bellowed at him.
Lily hung to the side, trying to get away from all the cameras and flashes.
The noise was deafening and the magical aura around the stars drew light, eyes, microphones, and all conversation.
They moved in a halo created by everyone else’s attention.
Every single person there, even Stacy Black, was self-consciously playing a supporting part.
The PR person swept Cecilia and Sigrid along in Dorian’s wake, while Lily resisted and found a quiet ally in Ehsun.
The two of them stood back and watched the parade.
It was liberating to reflect that she, Lily, was not being judged.
Yet at that moment, as she hung back with Ehsun, smiling, enjoying the bursts of laughter and light, the gloss and sparkle on gowns, the fixed smiles, the furtive looks and checks between those who knew each other, Dorian was actually looking at her.
Their eyes met across the confusion in a smile that everyone saw but few understood.
Cecilia followed his gaze and smirked. “So nice of you to show her all this,” she murmured, making him bend to hear her. “Poor thing, though, she looks very out of place.”
Dorian turned on her. “She is.” And he drifted back toward the cameras, leaving Cecilia with the obviously nonsensical impression that he thought being out of place in this crowd was a good thing.
It was the first Dorian Khan movie Lily had watched since she met him.
The experience of seeing him on the big screen, while he himself was right in front of her in the cinema, was somewhat odd.
Sometimes she didn’t recognize him—his eyes were too bright, his face was half in shadow, or he wore an expression she’d never seen.
In those moments she saw only the character.
But most of the time, she just saw Dorian.
Now that she knew the nuances of his smile, and the way he moved his hands when he spoke, she couldn’t see anyone but him.
Watching his face up close for so long seemed so intimate that afterward she felt strangely shy when he asked her what she thought.
“I loved it,” she confessed.
“I’m glad. I’m way too close to have an opinion. It’s always great to see a movie come together as a finished product, but I don’t like watching myself.”
“I don’t think anyone does, really.”
A flash went off nearby as Cecilia took a selfie, looked at it with a critical air, then took another.
“Or very few people,” Lily corrected herself with a smile. “No one I know well.”
They didn’t stay at the after-party long and instead went back to Dorian’s apartment to continue the celebration away from photographers and fans.
Everyone was in good spirits, even Ehsun.
Lily felt very warm with friendship and champagne.
She realized she should head home before she offended Cecilia or got into an argument with Stacy Black.
“My driver can take you,” said Dorian.
“I don’t need a driver,” Lily laughed.
“Really. He’s waiting to take Stacy anyway and she’ll be here for hours.”
Lily protested, but Dorian wouldn’t hear of her taking a taxi.
He texted his driver and Lily accepted the offer with thanks.
She said farewell to Sigrid, Casey, and Ehsun (warmly), and Stacy and Cecilia (not so warmly), and Dorian accompanied her down to the parking garage.
After the buzzing atmosphere of the party, the elevator was so quiet she thought she could hear Dorian breathing.
Was the elevator this small before? He seemed very close.
“Thank you for coming tonight,” he said, and Lily was surprised to hear such warmth in his tone.
He was being sincere and vulnerable and it made her feel all fuzzy inside—or maybe that was just the champagne.
“Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “It was … interesting to see that side of moviemaking.”
God, why had she said that? With such cool judgment? But to her relief, Dorian just laughed softly.
“Interesting is a nice way of putting it,” he said. “You made it better.”
Lily blushed and blinked. He was gazing at her with big brown eyes, just like the ones she had seen onscreen, except now they were gazing at her.
But to her disappointment (though she didn’t know why), Dorian seemed to catch himself and looked at the floor.
He shook his head slightly as if to clear his thoughts.
Ding. Parking garage. The doors slid open and directly in front of them was the shiny black limousine.
“Would you like to come to the theater with me?” he asked in a rush. “I’ve got two tickets to opening night, it’s—”
“Yes,” Lily said, interrupting him, then she laughed at her own indelicacy. “Sorry. Go on.”
“You don’t want to know what it is?”
“Too late, I said yes,” she joked. “Surprise me.”
But she knew she didn’t care what play it was or when. She just wanted to hang out with him again.
Dorian gave her the biggest smile she’d ever seen him give anyone. She couldn’t help but mirror it.
“Okay, great,” he said. “I’ll text you.”
They stood there smiling at each other for what seemed like a very long time until the driver got out and opened the back door of the limousine, and Lily felt she had no choice but to get in.
She looked out the window for as long as she could see Dorian’s silhouette.
Then she slumped back in the seat, confused and elated at the same time.
Had she imagined it or had he been about to kiss her and then thought better of it?
Or were they interrupted? Everything seemed significant and stretched out when she was tipsy; it was probably nothing.
After everything, his declaration, their shouting match, her firmly rejecting him …
he couldn’t still like her. And she … well, she had never liked him.
In that way. Ever. But he had invited her to the theater.
Just the two of them. And she had said yes.