Chemistry & Timing: A Miraculous Moment

Gala Pressure Pt 1 (19)

Yes, it is a two-parter. I wanted to make it one part but I decided that splitting it would make the read seem less daunting. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Adrien POV:

I've mentioned how much I hate galas, right?

Well, in case I haven't: So. MUCH.

Especially when my father throws them at our mansion, because then we can't leave early and there are even less places to hide because my father knows all the best hiding spots. I'm like a rabbit trapped in a nest of vipers.

Why is this happening to me? (Again). My father hosts annual galas throughout the year and this one is to premiere his winter collection. He wants to unveil some of his latest designs and keep his investors interested in his company. Personally, I think all of this could be done with a few meetings, but instead, I have to fend off the older socialites trying to suck up to my father and the rich girls looking to make the magazine covers as "Adrien's newest girlfriend".

Part of me was hopeful that since my dad was giving me more independence, he would let me duck out of this one. But he says since I'm the "face of the brand" and the "future CEO" that I need to attend these events so I can learn how to network and garner capital. I think the real reason is that most of the investors here have kids and, in my dad's logic, I'm supposed to entertain them.

Either way, I'm stuck with a stupid tie around my neck and the daughter of Hessington Oil's CEO looking to replace it. The young blonde tries to pull herself in closer, keeping her fingers locked around my neck while I try to back away further. It's times like this I regret being polite all the time, because I don't know how to get her off me without being mean.

"Y'know, they say blondes in New York have more fun," she leans in trying to whisper in my ear, I resist the urge to shove her off me, "Wanna prove them right?"

Seeing my opening, I use the slack in her grip to duck out of it and side step around her, "I–I–I gotta go find my dad!" I yelp and fast walk away from her, dodging the party guests. That was too close. I need a breather.

Like I said, my father already knows all my hiding spots, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy them for a few minutes before Nathalie or Gorilla find me. Right now, the closest one to me is the kitchen.

Once inside, I dodge around the wait staff hurriedly setting up appetizer trays and drink glasses to reach the back. Pressing my back against the fridge, hiding me from the rest of the room and the party outside, I can feel my vision begin to clear up and my breathing starts to normalize.

Don't get me wrong, I want to be more social. It's why I'm in school and joined so many clubs, but this isn't making friends. It's my job. Any "friends" I make are transactional ones. They want something from me and expect me to want something from them. It's disgusting. I once read how top-level business owners and elitists score high on the psychopathic scale, and that makes sense if all you ever see people as is currency. They only have value if they're useful.

That's just not who I am though. I'm not friends with Nino or Tikki because they help me with my homework or introduce me to people. I didn't upgrade Plagg to calculate formulas for me. I don't care what they do for me, but how I feel around them. And these people don't get that. They don't get me.

Not like Marinette.

I wince as the vision of her smile flashes through my mind. It's been days since I've even talked to her and I miss her more and more. I miss seeing that twinkle in her eye as I listen to her explain her fashion projects. I miss hearing her laugh at my superb puns and jokes. I miss that feeling I have around her...like I can wear my glasses without feeling judged.