Vista

ball

I trusted him at that. We first met at a clothes mall, after all.

He chose one. It was a gold color.

He looked at it. Then looked back at me. But turned to keep it.

"You have good shoes here."

He searched again and removed a pair of black open-toed heels, looked at me, and closed the stand.

I smiled at the choice.

He bent down to wear them for me. I could only focus on his face the whole time. He took all his time, making sure he was careful in the process.

Once he was done, he used my hands to lift me off the bed.

After looking at me for a while, which I couldn't contain, he spoke.

"Does Guinness World Records know you exist?"

"I don't know where your compliments emerge from." I let out a little laugh.

"You don't look too bad yourself." I finally gathered the courage to point at him.

"Oh. I'm blushing." He grinned.

"So can we go now?"

"Yeah. Yeah."

"After you."

"I have to lock."

"I will."

"Okay."

To say bashfulness overtook me was minor. I swayed on the spot.

"Milia?"

I looked up.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded, my heart trapping my words.

Like he read my mind, he held my hand and let us downstairs and out. When he locked, he opened the door for me.

And off we went.

The next thing I knew, we were at the reception of a mansion. Ethan spoke to the receptionist who'd recognized him.

After taking the elevator to the 28th floor, Ethan slotted his invitation card into a slot machine near a big wooden door.

"Ready?"

I nodded.

"There's nothing to be worried about."

I smiled reassuringly and he held my hand and let the way as the doors opened.

The partying environment was the contrary to the environment behind the door.

Well, not so contrary. It was a ball indeed. Not a party. It had the kind of peace I loved. The music was from a small band and was soothing.

Ethan was recognized by his teammates as he made his way in, and had started fist-bumping some that were chatting with glasses in their hands. All that while, I took the time to look at the furniture of the hall. It was fascinating that there were no paintings. Strange was not enough explanation. All around was the wall, and the antiques were uncommon.

One hall of a kind.

"Harte."

"Oh. Hello." I snapped out of my thoughts.

The guy had pink hair. Was the first thing I noticed about him.

"Sorry man. Proper introduction. Emily, meet Lucas. Man, Emily Harte."

"Ah. The birthday guy. I'm sorry I didn't know about you."

"No. I'm more than privileged to finally meet Harte. The student model."