The charity dinner was a drawn out affair that rubbed me the wrong way. I had to sit on my hands to stop them from making some sort of mess. Even so, I kept smiling and chatting with those at our table even if their topics of conversation were dull at best. Every word that left their mouths was carefully weighed, and none spoke with true passion. Mostly they talked about people I'd never heard of.
Chris and Dante sat close, but to my great horror and disappointment, Tom and Lara resided at another table. Lara and I were yet to be introduced properly, but I wasn't all that interested in her anyway. She looked nice in her dark green dress and intricately braided hair, but next to Tom she paled. Literally.
Every time I looked their way, Tom wore some kind of neutral expression or a scowl. He tapped his fingers around a tumbler, but my gut said that it was water rather than vodka. Considering his reaction to Chris' jibe, I figured boss-lady had him on a tight leash. If I were the waiter, I would have spiked the water and perhaps decorated the secret drink with tiny pink umbrellas.
Chris leaned in to whisper in my ear, his breath far too warm in the heated room. "Regretting that you came along?"
"Yeah, do I have to pay to get away from here? Feel like they've taken me hostage." The dinner had been interrupted several times by various speakers who expounded on the importance of higher education to fulfill the American dream. I think they were trying to collect money for college stipend funds. Definitely a worthy cause, but then I never understood why they had to charge for education in the first place. Hell, Swedish students got paid to go to university.
"I think they might let us go mingle soon," Chris said.
"Awesome." Few people liked to mingle, but few surroundings suited me better than a room full of people who wanted nothing more than to crowd around the enigmatic centers of attention. In Stockholm, I had been one of those centers far too often for others to genuinely like me. Swedes generally dislike people who stand out in a crowd which is quite inconvenient when you're naturally outstanding.
Applause rang around us, rising toward the high ceiling.
"Why are we clapping?" I asked.
"Because he's finally done," Chris offered.
"Jeez, that took them long enough." I received a scoff in reply, but it was worth the smile he tried to hide.
The other guests around the table rose and discarded their neatly folded linen napkins. Apparently, we weren't the only impatient ones. Chairs scraped against the polished floor—a sound reminding me of the urgency displayed by students at the end of a boring lesson.
I tailed after Chris, who in turn tailed after Dante. It was a neat little tail train that hopefully would lead me to the life of the party. "Where are we going?"
Chris threw me a glance over his shoulder. "Let's talk to Lara, she wants to meet you."
"Cool, I want to meet her too." That was only half the truth, or maybe less than that. I needed a reason to stay close to Tom in order to see if he was open to some casual flirting. He gave off a strange vibe that revealed nothing—a mystery to be solved, and I loved mysteries. The harder the better.
Lara was rummaging through her bag, fretting like a pissed off kitten. "I can't believe I forgot my lipstick." Clearly, she was a lady of my liking. She was tall in her stilettos, elegant but certainly not lifeless. She gave off an air of old Hollywood.
She looked up and eyed me from head to toe beneath her thick lashes. "This is the friend you've been talking about?" she asked Chris.
He nodded. "Lara, this is Joachim Carlsson." He shifted his gaze to me. "Joachim, meet Lara Demalier."
I reached out with my hand and clasped hers. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise. I can see what the fuss is about," she replied, letting one corner of her mouth slip into a smile.
"Fuss?" For a second I wondered if Tom had said something, but that was wishful thinking.
"Chris may have mentioned that you make people smile."
"Sweet cheeks, are you telling tales about me?"
Dante let out a soft chuckle when Chris rolled his eyes. Before anyone had time to respond, Lara snatched my arm. Steering me toward the bar and away from Tom, she walked with a kind of certainty that made me like her even more. Not that I liked the fact that she took me away, but I had to play along to get into her good graces. A means to an end, but hopefully a pleasant one.
"It's wonderful that you came along." She leaned closer to my ear. "No one will bother me for a while if we have a little chat. Besides, I'm curious about you." She began to speak louder. "So, tell me. You're from Sweden?"
"Yes, Stockholm."
"Wonderful city. Fantastic archipelago. We visited last summer while on tour. You must miss it."
"Not especially."
A few people moved out of our way, glancing at Lara and me with apparent curiosity. Perhaps I was reaching fame after all. I chuckled at the thought. Reaching fame through acquaintance was a shallow type of fame—one that never lasted. And, who knew, perhaps Lara was infamous rather than famous. I tried to imagine in what ways she could be infamous. Perhaps she was secretly a bitch, but I very much doubted that. A tough cookie, surely, but not a menace. You simply have to pet a cat along its fur, not against it.
"You've also been good for Chris. I think he was on the right track before, but you've definitely made him open up even more. He was quite withdrawn when I first met him."
I had a hard time seeing that. "Really?"
"Yes. I believe so. He's had a tough year behind him, and I think you arrived like a breath of fresh air." She smiled.
Chris had said Lara was like a mother to Dante, but perhaps she had also adopted Chris in a way. It was sweet.
"It's been good for me, too. I never want to leave this place."
She smiled again, wider this time. "Let's hope you never will."
The bar was crowded, not night club crowded but country club crowded. There was a difference. Here, people stood amicably at the length of the bar, never too close to one another, and no one would dream of waving money in the air to catch the bartender's attention. These were people of class, hiding all their skeletons deep inside their closets.
"What do you prefer?" Lara asked, eying the list of drinks from a menu.
"I'll have a Sex on the beach." It was a joke, and she noticed.
She placed the menu back on the bar. "Boy, you don't need to overdo it. You're projecting your inner queen perfectly well without accessories."
I could have been offended, but wasn't. She said it with warmth, and besides, she was right. I never did learn to tone myself down unless someone gave me a good reason to hide.
"I'll have a whiskey then." Not that I actually preferred whiskey, but I wanted to understand the appeal. Chris had mentioned that it was Tom's favorite.
Lara placed the order and after that, I had enough liquid courage in front of me to last the rest of the night. Drink after drink burned down my throat in quick succession while people floated around us. People came and went despite Lara's intentions of keeping them away. They showered us with attention for a few minutes before they moved on to the next target. I gave them pleasantries and smiles to make up for my somewhat aggravated thoughts. It really was quite unpleasant of me, but I had too much fun to stop. I would have no trouble acting out a rich, insolent youth after this.
Chris and Dante came by, saving me from boredom while Lara worked the crowd.
"Still mad that I brought you along?" Chris asked.
"Nope. I'm having free drinks."
"That's what I thought."
"Still waiting for you to admit that you tricked me into coming."
Dante chuckled, inching closer to Chris. "He thought you wanted to see Tom."
"And why would I want that?" I fluttered my lashes.
"I know you, that's all," Chris replied. "But you better make a move soon. We're leaving by cab, but he's bound to drive Lara home in a while. It's getting late."
"You're leaving now?"
They eyed each other in the most disgustingly sweet way. "Yeah, we're leaving," Dante said. No subtlety at all.
"Fine, I'll just drink up and find myself a ride."
Chris laughed again. "I have a feeling you won't go home at all."
"I don't kiss and tell, unlike the two of you. Now, go home instead of eye-fucking each other." I shooed them away, feeling perhaps a tiny bit jealous. I'd never done the boyfriend thing, at least not for any significant amount of time.
"I'll call tomorrow," Chris said, pointedly ignoring my language.
Lara came back for a short while, complaining about a man I'd never heard of. I listened and nodded at the appropriate times even if it mostly sounded like she ranted to get rid of some agitation. She must have vented enough when we were done, because when I returned from a quick visit to the restroom, she'd left. Instead, someone else had stolen her spot at the bar, sporting a disinterested expression. Tom's long fingers rested around yet another glass with seemingly boring content. Deciding that it was time, I squared my shoulders and placed myself right next to him, my back leaning against the counter.
"No whiskey tonight?" I asked.
Oops, I hit a sore spot. He ignored me, wearing a not so subtle smile upside down. Considering how he'd treated me after that moment of shared intent at the night club, I wondered if it had been a figment of my imagination from the start. That was not a reason to give up, though.
"Told you I wouldn't babysit," he said after a few seconds, his eyes locked on the bottles lined up behind the bartender.
"You're calling me baby?" I couldn't help myself.
"It's not a compliment."
"Whatever you say daddy-o."
He winced. "Can't you go bother someone else?"
"And what would be the fun in that?" Some banter was a great way to start a one-night stand—surely, he was aware.
He looked at me, two chocolate brown pools of wonder meeting my gaze. "You're even worse than Chris."
"Now, that is definitely a compliment." I took a sip from my pink drink and smacked my lips, never breaking our intense eye contact. Oh yes, there was something there, but it might be more difficult to coax out than I'd thought.
"You're hopeless."
"Nope. Not hopeless at all. I'm hopeful."
"Well, take your hope somewhere else."
Now, that stung. Rejection was unacceptable, but I wouldn't grovel.
I fished out a memory stick from my pocket. "I promised you this, so here you go."
He took it reluctantly. "What is it?"
"A playlist."
"You were serious about that?" He looked surprised, and maybe there was a smidgen of amusement in his voice.
"Of course. I never make promises I can't keep."
"I very much doubt that."
Before I had time to reply, he took off without another word, and I found myself staring at his retreating back for the second time in one evening.
What a waste. Obviously, he wasn't interested in men. That, or he'd read some shitty flirting advice.
A drink landed on the counter top, ice clicking against the crystal glass. I frowned and received a nod from the bartender. "From the guy over there." He nodded to his right, directing me to a man in a fine-looking suit. Mr. Suit with brown hair and plucked eyebrows watched me with interest. He wasn't hiding his intentions, that was for sure. He was trying to get me drunk as well.
Catching one last look in the direction where Tom had disappeared, I decided that I could practice my skills on someone more willing. With a tiny gesture of affirmation, I stood back and waited for him to come to me rather than the other way around. I'd chased enough for one night.
The man moved with the same kind of suave I-own-the-world attitude I'd seen throughout the night.
"Haven't seen you here before," he said. What a standard line—boring as fuck. The only thing he had going for him was those high cheekbones, and, I peered at his ass, a nice behind.
"That's because I've never been here. I'm a total newbie."
He sipped his wine, eyes on me. "I very much doubt you're a newbie."
I could play innocent, but then again, I wouldn't want to give him the satisfaction of a conquest. "True."
"I'm calling my driver. You have a ride tonight?"
Leaning closer to his ear, I whispered, "I have one now." Since Chris and Dante had already said their goodbyes, and it was a mystery why I remained.
His arm slipped around the small of my back, fingers spread wide. He had a nice touch, nice hands. I could enjoy that.
"Then lets head home," he said, giving my ear a gentle bite.
His touch never left me as we walked through the thinning crowd, and when I caught Tom throwing us a dark stare, I felt an odd sort of satisfaction. That feeling held until we stepped out into the night. I couldn't see the stars, only the dull haze of pollution and the freakishly tall buildings.
For the first time since I left Stockholm, I felt absolutely alone. The emotion slapped me right across my cheek.
"I forgot my jacket inside," I said, touching his chest in a sign that I would be back.
He leaned down and caught my lips with his. "Hurry up then."
My acting skills put to use, I left him with a smile, looking over my shoulder both once and twice before I fled inside to hide in the restroom. Only, I never got that far. In fact, I ran right into the person who had me all confused.
"You keep bouncing back," Tom said.
"I bounced into you, there's a difference." Even Tom had lost his appeal for tonight. I knew it wasn't going anywhere, and I wasn't ready for a second rejection.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Yeah. Just need to find a ride to my place."
"I'll take you."
Frowning, I retreated a step. Tom was a hard nut to crack—he kept throwing me for a loop. "Really?"
"Yes." He paused for a second, "Lara asked me to make sure you got home safely."
Did I want him to drive me? Did I want to sit in the car with him and pretend that I wasn't disappointed? I wasn't sure. Letting my shoulders fall, I gave him a nod. "That'd be really sweet."
"Let's go then."
For a second, I almost thought that I would feel his hand on my back, but once again I got caught in wishful thinking.
A flash went off the moment we stepped outside, making me bump into Tom's side. He steadied me just as another flash disrupted the darkness. I swallowed hard, carefully leaving Tom's touch and a smug photographer behind.