Golden [h.s.]

64. gala

"Aurelia," Harry says on the message, and my heart flips in my chest. "I've looked all over London for you, baby, where are you? Please call me back.

The message ends, but another one soon begins to play. Countless voicemails sound like the first one, until I get to one that sounds a bit different.

"Aurelia," Harry starts off on the message. "I miss you, I miss everything about you." His words sound jumbled and he's slurring — a sure sign he was drunk when he left this voicemail.

"I fucked up, baby. I know I'm arrogant, I know I'm too proud at times, but fuck, I'm trying, Ella. I just want to be better for you, I know it shouldn't have taken me losing you to realize this," Harry speaks. He sounds frustrated and I hear him sigh on the message. "Maybe we can be friends? Fuck, Ella, I don't know. I can't be just friends with you. It's not easy being jealous and I hate that I am the way that I am...I want to change that. I love y—"

The voicemail ends; he must have exceeded the time limit. I remove the phone from my ear, staring at it while I let my thoughts simmer.

Do I love him?

Of course I do. No amount of time or space could change the love I have for this man, despite how badly he hurt me. Maybe that's pathetic of me.

Do I trust him?

I don't know. I don't know how I can begin to trust him again after everything we've gone through.

It shouldn't have taken me losing you to realize this.

He's right; it shouldn't have. Frustrated, I grab the old cellphone and toss it into the trash.

One Week Later

"What a night," Brad groaned as we stepped into his car. I nodded with a yawn, grateful to finally be seated. It was Friday night — well, technically, the early hours of Saturday morning — and my shift at Lotus had just ended with Brad closing up the club for the night.

"I can't believe you had to break up that fight," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief as he drove off. It was the most insane thing I've ever seen; two men were brawling on the floor in Lotus, and even the security were unable to pull them apart. Brad laughed with me.

"I know! I've never seen such a bad fight in my club, I need to hire better security," Brad said with a shake of his head and I laughed again. The air was crisp — the beginning of December had finally approached; it felt like it was just summer. Brad finally pulled off and I put the window up, not wanting to get risk catching a cold.

"Oh, I've been meaning to ask you earlier, but with the whole fight and all I didn't get a chance to," Brad suddenly said, stopping at the light. I turned to look at him, tilting my head to the side in curiosity.

"I know it's super last minute, but I only found out earlier today," Brad started, pressing the gas as the light turned green.

"Spit it out," I teased and Brad laughed.

"I'm invited to a charity art gala at the Ritz tomorrow night — well, tonight," he corrected, "and I know how much you appreciate art, well, I think you do, with the art up on your walls in your apartment..." I bit my lips to suppress my laughter; he was babbling.

"And well, I was wondering if you'd be my date — strictly platonic, of course! Just friends!" Brad added and I threw my head back in laughter.