Have you ever been in a place that was so loud that it left your head aching? The noise was so palpable that it left your skin crawling, like you had suddenly become a blade of grass, bending under the power of the sound waves. That was my sudden constant as we were ushered inside the museum and posed in dozens of different rooms to showcase our clothes, becoming part of the museum art.
Museums were supposed to be quiet spaces. Allowing deep thoughts to spread through your brain until they were loud, giving voice to parts of your soul that otherwise remained quiet. Art sparked the parts of you that were always forced to remain silent to suddenly speak, to bubble to the surface, and be inspired. But the museum, although beautiful, and one of my favorite places to gather inspiration, was too loud, making it hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hard to do process any coherent thought other than... this hurts my brain!
The sound of laughter, conversation, and camera shutters bounced off the walls, cutting across the tapestries and sinking into my skull without protest. The museum wouldn't allow the noise to sink into the work it protected but instead forced the sounds to continue to echo until it soaked into the people responsible for the noise.
I suddenly wished my entire face was covered in a mask, instead of just my eyes. I had to keep a scowl at bay with every camera flash. "Allie Winters, you have been through a whirlwind week!" an interviewer was saying as I finished posing on a spiral staircase. Pasting a calm smile onto my face, I tried with great difficulty to not look like I was about to hurl from a head-splitting migraine. Then carefully walking down the last two steps on the staircase, I offered the interviewer an easy laugh as I was trapped into a face-to-face conversation in front of a video camera.
"That's an understatement," I replied, trying to come across as friendly. I needed air. The museum was overly stimulating and I hadn't had enough sleep or mentally prepared for the event. I could tell I needed to get outside soon, or they'd be back to calling me the Unhinged Fashionista before the night was over.
I glanced further up the stairs and spotted Iz taking her turn being posed. She was a beacon of joy, soaking in the night like her own personal fairytale. Aiden was out of the cameraman's shot and seemed to have relaxed slightly, eying the beautiful pieces of art around him with a critical eye.
"From dealing with exes and being painted as a villain, to launching the most popular couples clothing line to date and suddenly becoming the heroine of your own story, you've been giving everyone who has been following your story whiplash!" the interviewer said, pulling me back to the conversation as she laughed in that classic fake announcer laugh.
I laughed along, trying not to wince at the way my head throbbed along to the laughter. "Your dress has a..." The woman motioned to my dress in its entirety with dramatic flair, her eyes bright with delight. "...Katniss Everdeen feel, and I am sure everyone at home will agree with me when I say that you have sparked this fashion industry into an inferno with your creativity and sharp fashion sense."
She continued on, not giving me a moment to comment, which was fine. How was someone supposed to respond to compliments? I never knew what to say. Thanks for being nice to me?
"What our viewers would like to know is... WHAT IS ACTUALLY HAPPENING BETWEEN YOU AND TATE DALTON?!? And will we be seeing that drop-dead goooooorgeous driver escorting you tonight?"
I waved a gloved hand, pretending that the mention of Tate didn't send my heart crashing into my ribcage like a baby calf on rollerskates... is that a thing?
"I did have a plus one, but I brought a different date tonight," I replied with a smile. Turning, I waved at Iz who quickly descended the stairs to join me, nearly vibrating with excitement at the idea of being invited into the interview. Stopping next to me, Iz wrung her gloved fingers together, nervously.
I quickly gave her hands a tender, encouraging squeeze. "This is Iz Dalton. Not only did she help me put together my dress, but she is the designer of the dress she is currently wearing. It seemed only fair to bring her with me, considering I wouldn't have finished my own dress on time without her."
Iz blushed, her cheeks matching the deep red of both of our dresses. "Oh... umm... Thanks!" she blurted, beyond flustered. The interviewer moved her microphone over to Iz, eyebrow raised with an impressed air.
"Wow. How old are you?"
"I'm fifteen!" she replied with an upward tilt of her chin as she spoke far too loudly into the microphone. Leaning back slightly, Iz cleared her throat and repeated her answer in a softer voice. "Fifteen."
The woman laughed, clearly in awe as she looked at Iz's dress again. Then the interviewer's eyes fell on something behind us. "And based on who is hovering in the shadows behind you, I assume you are related to Aiden Dalton?"
Iz nodded excitedly, shooting me a knowing look before outing Aiden, destroying his desire to be ignored. "He's my brother."
Before either of us could stop her, the woman bolted up the stairs, tugging Aiden down to join us in the interview, while he glared at both of us the entire way down. Iz hid a smile behind a gloved hand as he was placed next to her. Then, adding insult to injury, I left him to the wolves, knowing he would keep Iz safe while I took a moment to get some fresh air.
I spotted a balcony off to the right-hand side, and ducked out, feeling Aiden's glare on my back as I squeezed through the opening and shut the door behind me. The quiet wrapped around my body, pulling my mind from a place of pain to a place of dull exhaustion. The cold evening air pricked at my skin, making me realize that I had broken out into a cold sweat inside the museum.
Walking to the railing, I leaned my elbows along the edge and sighed, trying to relax my muscles. I really need to sleep. The ink-black sky was filled with stars, creating a bedazzled blanket that threatened to draw me in and keep me forever. Classical music lifted from the courtyard below, working into my body like a balm.
The sight of the starry night made my chest suddenly ache as an image of a handsome guy with a heart-wrenching smile filled my mind. An image I had refused to give more than a passing thought to because I hadn't had time to think about him long enough to process what I wanted.
Tate.
But the idea of going back inside suddenly inspired me to take a moment and think of him. Of his deep green eyes that sparked with joy whenever he was being clever. Of his dark brown wavy hair that was unruly whenever he ran his fingers through it. Of his lips that could turn my insides into a puddle. Of his kindness that seemed to know no end. Of his patience and how he gave me space to figure out what I wanted. And after weeks of space. One simple fact had become clear...
I wanted Tate Dalton.
That want hadn't changed. That desire hadn't turned into a fleeting thought. It had grown, leaving me feeling utterly helpless to stop it from turning into a roaring fire that threatened to consume me all together. It had taken Winters becoming a mind-consuming success for me to separate myself enough to put the idea of him and me on pause.
But now?
I swore, trying to figure out what I should do about it. If Laliana were here she would tell me to make a romantic gesture or write him a love poem, or simply tell him like a sane, normal human that I wanted him.
I laughed at the idea. I wasn't good with words. Chances are, I would butcher it and leave him staring at me, confused. But it was either that or never say a word and hope it went away.
As if to prove that action was required, the universe suddenly offered me a sign as I spotted a familiar dark-haired man in the garden below. Oh my gosh... Wha?
I squinted, convinced I was seeing things. He doesn't have an invitation, what is he doing here?!? Tate can't be here. Things like this don't happen. I'm just sleep-deprived.
But when he spotted me standing on the balcony and offered me a wave, I knew it was time to be brave. It was time to tell Tate Dalton that I was very smitten, even if I was terrified of that fact and it made me want to throw up a little...
I will have to find a better way of phrasing it. Time to hope for the miracle of eloquency and putting my feelings into coherent words.
I waved back, motioned for Tate to stay where he was, and bolted back through the balcony door, brave and terrified all at once. Here I go...
Aiden and Iz were nowhere inside. Sliding past several sets of photographers, two large vases, eight tapestries, and four statues, I walked out into the courtyard looking for my plus one and her grumpy bodyguard.
I spotted Iz eating a plate filled with chocolate-covered strawberries, one laced glove laid across her shoulder, her free fingers covered in chocolate.
"Classy," I said walking up.
She turned and smiled widely, chocolate coating her lips. "DID YOU SEE THE CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN?!? IT HAS LIKE FOUR TYPES OF CHOCOLATE AND ALL THE STRAWBERRIES YOU CAN EAT!"
Aiden appeared behind her. "She's not exaggerating," he said with a ghost of a smile on his face, watching her excitement as he ate a regular, non-covered strawberry. Chocolate hater.
"Having a nice time?" I asked Aiden in a teasing tone.
He narrowed his eyes half-heartedly. "Don't push it."
I shrugged and turned back to Iz. "Tate is here."
Her eyes went wide in surprise. "Seriously? Where?"
I motioned behind me. "In the garden. I'll go get him."
"I'll come too!" Iz declared.
I shook my head, trying to shake away a blush. "I need to talk to him about something. Enjoy the strawberries you two. I'll be right back." Then I turned and sprinted off.
"Wait! Winters!" Aiden shouted out after me, but I wouldn't be stopped. I was done with excuses. I was done with being scared.
"I'll be right back!"
I sprinted... well walked quickly towards the garden, trying not to trip and fall on my very large dress. That was the last thing I needed.
It took too long to reach the hedge maze at the center of the garden. My heart was beating so loudly, that I was convinced the world could hear it. It was louder than the music in the courtyard, louder than my breathing, Louder than the laughter in the distance. It was the loudest thing in the world. And it only seemed to grow louder, more insistent with every step I took.
I spotted Tate down at the center of the hedge maze. Heading down the small ramp leading towards it, I followed the path, lifted my dress up, and once I was sure there were no cameras around to catch me running like a five-year-old, I sprinted towards him. I can do this.
He was staring at a large tree that sat at the center of the garden, his back to me.
I came to a halt several feet away, bracing myself. "Hey," I said between gasping breaths. He began to turn. "Don't turn around..." I added quickly. "I won't have the nerve to say this if you are looking at me."
He froze in place. I took several deep breaths and steadied myself. Dropping my dress back down, I stood to my full height and shoved my shaking hands into my pockets for comfort and confidence. "First of all, I'm sorry. I've ghosted you for the last few weeks. I didn't even call to thank you for..." I paused, feeling myself getting off track. Talking about ramen was hardly romantic. Well maybe to Tate it was.
My brain was scrambling, utterly unhelpful in my quest for coherent thoughts.
I cleared my throat and tried again. "I... I really like you. And you've made your feelings clear, and all I've done is just..." I paused, feeling the entire declaration tank before my eyes. This is like a freaking train crash...
I groaned and covered my eyes with my lace-covered hands. "Can you just fill in the blanks and pretend I said something beautifully eloquent. You know I'm bad with words. Just put me out of my misery."
I felt his fingers gently cup my cheeks and before I could lower my hands from my eyes to look him in the face, he reached down and kissed me, wrapping me in the smell of sandalwood, cedar, and musk.
He pressed his lips more fiercely against mine, and moved his hands to my waist, pulling me closer. I reached up to run my fingers through his hair, to cage his face against mine and paused.
It took my brain a second to figure out what was wrong. To process that the picture was distorted... then it hit me all at once. It was the cologne. It wasn't Tom Ford. It wasn't Tate's cologne. I wasn't kissing Tate.
A sudden flash pulled me from his arms, and I stumbled backwards staring up at the man in shock. A familiar face was suddenly framed in the moonlight.
I gasped, "Laurence?!?"
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Thank you for reading chapter thirty-seven! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes! Add this story to your reading list to know when the next chapter drops!
UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!
AHHHH WHAT HAS JUST HAPPENED?!?!
Did Allie really kiss Laurence Royal?
Why did Laurence kiss her?
How will Allie explain that she was actually confessing to someone else?!?
What is Tate up to during all this?!? Is he there, watching?
What will happen next?
CHAPTER QUESTION - Have you ever texted the wrong person and said something they shouldn't have seen? Were you able to fix it?