Chapter 8 Red Carpet Dance
Red Carpet Dance
AVA
I’m so nervous I could die.
He’s holding onto me like I’m his.
I’m holding him back like it’s true.
I’ve always wanted to live a fairy tale life since all I’ve been doing since my accident has been living in a homeless shelter and trying to remember my life, but my injury doesn’t really allow it.
Gabe said it wasn’t a big deal that I have long-term memory loss, as long as I can do my job well and I can, I know I can, and I am.
It just sucks to be in your late twenties and not know where you were born, what city, what your parents look like…
It’s like watching the end of a movie without having the beginning or middle.
All you have is what you have.
I want to go to the part where the happy ending happens.
Maybe this is it, maybe this is all I’ll have, is it horrible that I cling to him harder?
I grip the back of his jacket with my fingers.
I actually dig in, I cling to his warmth; I rest my head on his shoulder like I’m allowed to, and as we walk across the red carpet, I see my end.
Because I see the end of the carpet and I know it’s time to go up the stairs, take more pictures, and go into the gala. He’ll be talking to people, networking, and I’ll be sipping champagne.
And then I’ll go back to my lonely apartment.
What a waste of my own brain.
I hate myself sometimes.
But people need to live and eat and survive and that’s all I’m doing at this point.
Even doctors had no clue what happened to me or why I lost so many years and the even crazier part, I had to get brand new ID, social security, everything because when I woke up from my coma all I knew was my name but no family was present.
How freakishly depressing.
Maybe I’m one of those people, one that nobody really cares about. Or maybe I’ve always been an orphan.
At this point, I need to just focus on the fact that I’m at one of the biggest galas of the year and I’m working. I’m here to support him, gather my paycheck, and attempt to look like his date without actually hitting on him.
My boss.
After just starting work.
Usually, I’m the one getting hit on, instead tonight, I’m the one with the dangerous thoughts, just shooting them in his direction like daggers.
Cameras are flashing everywhere, he grips my arm like he’s nervous about it so I hold still while what feels like claws dig into my skin, but that would be insanity, I’m just nervous.
He isn’t smiling.
He looks pissed.
I elbow him and smile through my teeth, whispering, “Smile.”
He looks down at me.
“I thought I was?”
“Your lips are barely moving, even when you’re talking to me.” I keep smiling and holding onto him as we walk down the red carpet, he waves, but his smile isn’t real it looks so fake that even not knowing him, I know it.
Not good for business.
Not good for networking.
Not good for any of it and the entire world is gonna see pictures of him, not to mention news channels, entertainment.
“What…” I keep smiling and lean up to whisper in his ear so it looks seductive when really I’m just petrified he’s going to be on the news in the morning for looking like a giant asshole.
“Will make you smile?”
He doesn’t smile for the cameras, but the minute I ask that, he looks down at me with a crooked, nearly delirious grin.
“I don’t think you want to know what just ran through my head.”
“Try me.”
“Sample, more like it,” he whispers and forces a half-assed smile.
“Better?”
“You’re like a marble statue.” Please don’t fire me.
“Just, can you, try?”
“If I smile, I’ll scare them,” he says under his breath.
“Your smile can’t be that creepy.” We both pause and stand in front of the paparazzi, he rests his hand on my hip pulling me against his side. His smile still looks forced, covered up actually.
I grip his hand rather than his elbow and hold it tight, then pull away from him and do a little twirl like we’re dancing our way down to the end.
It’s all I have.
He looks completely away from the paparazzi and follows me.
And then he smiles.
“What was that?”
“Dancing.” I wink.
“Twirling.”
His smile is adorable, I never thought I’d see the day and I’ve been with him for mere 2 days.
He pulls me back against him, then twirls me again. The press goes wild, cameras are flashing everywhere as we near the end of the carpet.
It was a good run.
Despite him not smiling until the end, I got my job done, so why am I sad?
I’m not paying attention and suddenly trip over my dress and go flying forward, but the minute I think I’m about to hit the final stair, his hand grabs me and pulls me back into him, then dips me low.
He doesn’t kiss me, but slowly leans forward and whispers with those amazing full lips and a low growl, “You should really watch where you’re going. ”
I gulp.
“N-noted.”
His eyes are full of anger at first, or maybe fear? And then he abruptly pulls me to my feet and grabs my hand as we walk into the venue.
I can barely keep up with him in my heels.
Once we stop at the front door, he reaches for a glass of champagne, hands it to me, and grabs two more.
“Don’t make enemies.”
I’m pretty sure that’s the last time I’ll see him tonight before I hang my head and make the decision to drink a glass of champagne and then make the trek home. I don’t belong in this world, and hey at least I have a home, and the champagne tastes incredible.
The way he marches off, you’d think I had the plague or something.
I finish my champagne in no time and reach for another feeling extremely awkward, just standing there like an idiot.
Positives? I have an apartment now.
A beautiful dress.
A grumpy boss? Yes, but he takes care of me well.
I mean, I’m only two days in and he hasn’t thrown a pen at me—yet. I’m just about to finally go when a tall, gorgeous man starts weaving his way through the crowds.
Damn.
He turns to me, dimples on full display, and flashes me a smile