Just Love

“Mother, do I really have to do this?” I groaned.  I glanced at my mother next to me, her manicured fingernails typing against the BlackBerry’s keys as her brown eyes darted back and forth. 

“Yes, Éponine,” my mother sternly replied, tucking her mobile device back into her clutch bag. 

“I couldn’t see why I couldn’t come with Zayn.”

“You know your brother wants nothing to do with the paparazzi,” she replied.  I fumed yet I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her about how I wanted nothing to do with them as well. 

I hated going to these events, especially black tie events.  Not to mention socializing with my mother’s “best friends” and receiving criticism at how I could possibly go outside without any make-up on.  I wasn’t born for this lifestyle, to tell you the truth.  I would rather stay at home and read a book or watch some TV.  I was introverted, half of the time shy, if not bored to inevitable death.  Thanks to my mother, I hated going outside nowadays. 

Scowling, I fell back against the leather seat of the limousine and closed my eyes.  The distant noise of the paparazzi and celebrities all chattering at the same time filled my ears, the multiple cameras clicking along in its wake.

I never expected so many people to turn up to these fashion events.  Fortunately, it wasn’t Los Angeles Fashion Week, because I’d have to kill myself just to see a bunch of models walking down a long catwalk with a dress slung over their skinny frame, posing at the end.  But then again, I was one of those people. 

The limousine stopped in front of a red carpet, a white looking wall lined behind it with different logos printed on it, that eventually led into a huge, white building.  I cringed at the many interviewers and cameramen milling around the red carpet.  I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. 

My mother elegantly stepped out of the limousine, flashing her teeth as she waited for me to follow suit.  Grunting, I managed to step out of the vehicle without ripping my silver, full-skirted Armani Privé gown.  I slammed the door shut as I planted a grin on my face, taking my mother’s arm and advancing towards the overwhelming crowd.  As usual, the paparazzi flashed their cameras our way as they cried out things such as “You look gorgeous, Miss Davis!” and “Who are you wearing?”

No sooner than five seconds, a man in a grey suit approached us, shoving a microphone towards my mother as he asked her many questions about her new fashion line for the spring and summer collection.  The minutes ticked away slowly as one after another kept coming up to us, demanding a photo or an interview.

“My inspiration was my daughter,” my mother replied to the umpteenth interviewer.  I timidly smiled at her, suddenly aware that a camera was pointed at me.  Something vibrated against my hand, as I flipped my clutch bag opened.  A genuine smile appeared on my face as I glimpsed the name flashing on my screen.  My stomach did a little somersault as

I took in the photo of my boyfriend’s beaming face.

Acknowledging my surroundings, I realized I was awkwardly standing in the middle of the red carpet in front of millions of flashing cameras.  Thankfully, I was only a few meters away from the building where the fashion event would take place. 

Making sure that my mother’s head was turned, I slipped away from the red carpet and fast-walked towards the building. 

“Hello?” I breathlessly answered the call, once I had entered the building.  The inside of the building was cramped with lots of people; either milling around the place and meeting up with people or lingering around the bar.  The lighting cast a purple glow over the crowd as waiters carrying trays of champagne flutes floated around the crowd, asking the odd fashion designer if they would care for a drink.  A stitch was starting to grow on my side, although I had barely consumed any food or water. 

“What are you wearing?” Harry asked. 

“Am I supposed to answer that in a dirty way?” I inquired, squeezing between two very large bouncers.  They eyed me curiously after my unusual and loud remark as I made my way to the bar.  I felt my cheeks heat up as I sat on the stool and surveyed all the bottles of alcohol arranged neatly.  Right now, I was in desperate need of water.