Flightless Bird || l.s. ✔︎

ACT I: CHAPTER THREE

The lads and I decided to take the plunge and go greet the women. A frail eighty-year-old woman named Margaret took a shining to me. I decided to stick with her. She seemed relatively harmless.

"Right this way Mags," I said, leading her to the table. "Is it alright if I call you Mags?"

"Oh, yes." She blushed, touching her blue-tinged hair, spun into a twist atop her head like cotton candy. "No one's called me that since I was a girl!"

I smiled.

Behind me Zayn was being mauled by two voluptuous socialites in their forties.

"Help," he mouthed.

I shrugged and mouthed back, "Sorry."

Mags had an interesting life as the heiress to a media fortune, and dry sense of humor. We got on famously. I didn't have to pretend to laugh at her jokes. She was actually quite funny. And she hadn't gotten fresh with me, which was always appreciated.

It wasn't until dessert that Harry decided to grace us with his presence. Two waiters opened the oak doors and regally he entered, his green eyes downcast, his hands behind his back. The reaction to his arrival was unlike any I'd ever seen for a dancer. The entire room got to their feet and broke into thunderous applause. Harry bowed and I shook my head with disapproval. Not only was he not in black tie, he wasn't in a tie at all. Head-to-toe in Gucci, he wore a gold floral neck bow with a black shirt, his long hair down and curling at his shoulders. It was completely inappropriate! Insulting! He didn't look like he was part of the company. He looked like a Machiavellian prince!

"Oooooh," Mags whispered. "There's that new dancer from the Bolshoi. I hear he's magnificent. Doesn't he look handsome tonight! I've never seen a suit like that before."

I took a swig of wine. "That's because it's not a suit. I don't know what the hell it is!"

She grabbed my arm. "Can you introduce me?"

"Mags, you don't want get mixed up with the likes of him, trust me, he's trouble."

I watched as Harry worked the room, politely greeting every single patron and member of the company. He and Zayn embraced for a whole minute. I timed it. He had a brief laugh with Liam before Kenneth introduced him to Niall.

When he got to my table I faced forward and crossed my arms. He went around to each person until eventually he got to Mags and kissed her cheek.

"Enchanté," he said.

She put a hand over her heart, her silver eyelashes batting up at him.

I stood up and begrudgingly extended my hand. Harry looked at it and walked away.

I was livid.

He made a point of greeting every single person in that goddamn room just so he could snub me! Bastard!

He sat at the table next to mine with Kenneth and Liam. Naturally he would want to spend all his time sucking up to the director. He probably thought the rest of us were beneath him. Including me. Especially me.

I just wanted to ignore him and enjoy my wine, maybe an espresso or two, but all anyone wanted to talk about at my table was Harry, Harry, Harry. I couldn't help stealing glances at him to see if he was watching me but he wasn't. He had one leg crossed over the other, his arm resting on the back of Kenneth's chair, with an easy smile on his face.

I'd had enough.

"Harry is just so sophisticated," gushed the thin businesswoman sitting across from me. "He's so cultured. I wonder if he was raised on the continent?"