"Here ya go, Livvy," Nick offers, handing me a tumbler.
Harry was so lost in his thoughts, completely wrapped up in seeing me in a wedding dress, that he didn't even notice his best friend pour the drink in my glass.
"Is this...?"
"Yup!" Nick grins wide, tossing his back quickly, licking his lips as he slams the tumbler down on the minibar. "Take it like a man!"
I narrow my eyes at him, lightly sniffing at the bourbon before swirling it around warily in my glass. My eyes lock with Harry's before my lips touch the edge, hesitantly tipping it back with a grimace.
The liquor burns it way down my throat, forcing me to hiss a little before coughing. My hand reaches up, lightly caressing the skin of my neck as if it would somehow ease the burning in my esophagus. It didn't.
I didn't notice Harry staring at me, but his eyes were affixed on my hands, picking up for the first time just how narrow and slender my neck was, how tiny my hands were...how ringless my finger was.
"Olivia? Is that you?" Eleanor calls, the smart tapping of her heels beginning to echo against the hard wood downstairs.
"Shit!" Harry exclaims, eyes reluctantly leaving me before bolting around chairs and settés in a hurry, trying desperately to get back to his bedroom as quickly as possible.
"Where you headed, H?" Nick laughs, amusement on his face, ignoring my silent protests as he pours more bourbon in my glass.
"I have to change!!"
Nick shakes his head, finishing topping off his own glass before sipping it, the leaves of his ivy crown rustling a bit in his hair. I couldn't help but giggle at him. He's so funny to me.
"Yes it's me, Eleanor!" I yell, recalling my attention back to her.
"Good, at least someone is on time," she huffs, her heels moving to the stairs.
"You'd better drink that before she gets up here," Nick warns quietly, nudging me with his elbow. I jump instinctively and look down at the glass in my hand, not remembering he poured it in the first place.
"Crap!" I mutter.
I look around helplessly, but there's no where to put it that isn't obvious. I look up at Nick with a playful scowl before tipping it back, letting the liquor build a solid buzz in my bloodstream. The room goes hazy, the fire in my throat slowly settling into my chest as I set the empty glass down on the piano. I take one more grimace, swallowing hard, before Eleanor crests the stairs.
Nick lets out a low whistle.
"Fuck, Eleanor. Think that dress could get any shorter?" His words are snide, and I can't help but turn around. I gasp when I see her.
Eleanor is not wearing the pretty white Oscar de la Renta dress I had picked up to dry clean, only to alter, only to dry clean again. Instead, she's wearing a little black satin number that fell only inches away from her crotch, her long sleeves hanging low in large bows off of her shoulders delicately. The tan expanse of her long legs climb up from her six inch Louboutin pumps, rocketing her already tall frame into the stratosphere. I feel slightly scandalous on her behalf, since she looks like a high class hooker, but as I look down and see half of my torso bare, I realize I'm not really one to talk. I nervously pull my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling very exposed.
Eleanor looks at Nick disapprovingly. "Are you still wearing that hideous outfit?"
Nick just grins. "Yeah!! I'm here for the party Harry promised!" He does a little playful jig for her just to annoy her. "When does the keg get here?"
I can't help but giggle, but Eleanor's eyes snap to me. She's about to let out a dagger of a quip, but I can tell she's taken off guard by my appearance. I feel her blue eyes start to scan my body, starting at the hem of my dress and moving judgingly to the top of my head. I reluctantly put my hands down to my sides to give her the full view I know she's expecting, and suddenly, I wished I had practiced my confident stance a bit more — but it's too late to worry about how straight my shoulders are or if I'm sucking it in enough — because here I was, standing half naked, in front of my boss, in her wedding dress, on her fiancés birthday, who I happen to be madly in love with. Doesn't get more exposed than that.
After a moment, Eleanor smiles.
"Well, look at you, Olivia," she mutters primly. "It's a good thing your chest isn't any bigger, or some people might get a free show."
I feel my cheeks burn a deep crimson color, ducking my head as my arms wrap back around my body. I'm met with a warm hand on my lower back.
"Why, Eleanor...you wouldn't be jealous, would you?" Nick asks, his hand smoothing up and down my back soothingly.
Eleanor's lips part slightly, stunned at his accusation.
"Ok, I'm ready!" Harry yells, bounding out from the bedroom as he finishes linking the cuff link in his left sleeve. When he looks up, he sees Nick's hand on my back and stops in his tracks. "What's going on here?"
"We were just talking about how amazing Olivia looks," Nick smiles, nudging me playfully with his elbow. My head ducks again, eliciting a smile from Harry because he always thought that bashful move was adorable.
"T-thanks," I mutter, a reluctant smile tugging at my lips, and Harry can't remember the last time he saw a woman take a compliment so sincerely.
He hears a small huff, and for the first time, he realizes that Eleanor is standing there, obviously irritated that she didn't get his full attention, let alone any of it first. When his attention did finally turn to her, he first noticed her hair, moving to the pronounced pout on her lips before he recognizes the dress — the dress!
"What the hell are you wearing?" He asks before he can stop himself.
Eleanor's eyes widen, shocked and appalled at his reaction, her chin jutting out defiantly like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.
"It's Marchesa," she states airily, running her hand over her stomach, her sleeves swishing loudly. "Don't you like it?"
"Umm..." he offers, biting his bottom lip as he eyes the length dubiously. "I thought you were wearing that white one?"
I'm sometimes so proud of how expertly he can avoid a question.
Eleanor blinks at him, her tiny fists curling into balls of rage as she forces them angrily to her sides. Harry can tell it's taking everything inch of willpower inside of her not to explode. He nervously scratches at his neck, trying to decide how to approach this.
"I mean...I like this one too, but I mean..." he trails, eyeing the length again. He hopes she's wearing black panties tonight, or she might be flashing some people. "W-won't you be cold?"
Eleanor snorts. "I have a coat, Harold." She bristled again, running her hands over her dress. "You look nice too," she says sarcastically, hinting at what he's done wrong since she obviously thinks he's too stupid to know.
Harry sighs. She was so high maintenance. "Honey, you know I think you're gorgeous in anything. You could wear a paper bag and still look amazing," he offers. Her eyes just narrow at him.
"Hey, Livvy!" Nick smiles jovially. "Let's go downstairs...and not be here."
Harry's head whips to his best friend at the use of my nickname, let alone the suggestion he should go anywhere alone with me after having his hand on my completely exposed back.
Was he jealous?
"Smooth, Nick..." I deadpan, shaking my thoughts from Harry's bizarre actions, but I can't help but giggle from the liquor now working its way into my system as he ushers me to the staircase.
"Oh no, you don't..." Eleanor snaps. Both of us stop, looking at her bewildered. "You're not going anywhere until you put on your tux. We're going to be late as it is."
Nick smirks. "Tux? What tu—"
"Nick..." Harry warns. He's pushed Eleanor enough tonight. She's better, but she's certainly not perfect.
Nick sighs. "Alriiiiiight, geeeeez." He picks up his garment bag and trudges his way back to the bedroom to change and get ready.
Harry watches him saunter down the hall before turning to Eleanor, who at this point is frowning deeply, pouting, and holding her arms over her chest. She resembles an adult princess version of a character on Toddlers & Tiaras. He sighs, stepping towards her slowly and reluctantly slipping his arms around her waist. She stiffens under his touch, glaring at him, but he responds with a killer smile.
"You look absolutely beautiful, Ellie..." he trails, ducking his head to catch her eyes, nodding definitively to accentuate his point.
"Don't call me Ellie. You know I hate it," she sighs. "But thank you."
Her tone is clipped and short, really saying something more like "it's about time you said how beautiful I am."
"You look nice too," she offers, knowing it's his birthday and she has to play a little nice. She looks down at his hands playing at her waist and notices the rings on his fingers. "What on..." she chuckles in disbelief. "Are you wearing my rings?"
Harry's eyes widen, pulling his hand up to show off his ringed fingers, a ring on almost every finger except his wedding finger. "What? No. These are mine. I've had them forever..."
"Oh," her voice jumps several octaves. "You haven't worn those in years."
"Yeah," He nods, smiling a pleasant surprise that she even noticed, but then chastising himself for even doubting her. She's trying. He shouldn't be so critical.
"When were those en vogue? 1973?" she scoffs. "Elton John era, maybe?" She knocks him, silently suggesting his ring habit is a bit on the gay side.
Harry shifts slightly, clearing his throat as he pulls his arms from her waist. He was under the impression that personal expression was always fashionable, and paying homage to the rock gods was even more so. Maybe he was wrong...maybe a lot has changed in a decade or so.
"Alright," Nick yells, re-appearing from the hallway as he's fixing his tie awkwardly. I can't help but giggle. "You got me in this monkey suit, now where's the fucking party?"
Eleanor cringes, a forced smile pulling at her lips. "Nice to see that even in evening wear, you're as crass as ever."
"Oh, you know it..." he smirks, sidling up to me and wrapping an arm around my waist, deciding to ignore Eleanor and turn his attention to me. "Looks like I'm your date for the evening..."
I can't help but giggle as he takes my hand, pulling it to his lips to kiss my knuckles like a gentleman. Harry eyes his best friend, this weird emotion pulling in his gut, and Eleanor looks absolutely horrified.
"Where's Candy?" Eleanor asks, eyes flitting between Nick and me, face full of suspicion. Harry's eyes shift between Nick and Eleanor, gulping even harder.
Nick and his Livvy?
"Oh, she's back home," Nick says with a sigh. "She said three days wasn't enough notice to," he makes air quotes, "'fly across the country.'" He rolls his eyes. "She's on a career kick, no thanks to you Eleanor."
"But you're still together, right?" Harry interjects loudly and abruptly, shockingly so. Everyone looks at him with confusion, the edge in his voice raising eyebrows.
"Uh...yeah, dude," he squints, giving Harry a concerned look before searching his face for answers.
"We ready?" Harry asks, avoiding his friends gaze by fiddling with the rings on his fingers and changing the subject.
"Are you sure some of those rings aren't mine?" She asks again. I have to elbow Nick in the ribs to keep him from laughing at her faux innocent face.
"No, I'm pretty sure they're mine. I've had them forever," he mutters again.
Eleanor just looks at him, brow drawn in concentration. She eyes each ring one by one, noticing how feminine some of them are.
"Yeah, but that one especially looks like mine...and they are all a little effeminate, no?" She scoffs, eyeing the gold ring with the thin band and flat face with a ruby in it.
Harry just gives her a withered look, not even affording her a response, which forces her to ball her firsts firmly at her sides.
"Fine! If you want to look like a girl, I can't stop you. It's your birthday."
With that, she turns on her heel and saunters delicately down the marble staircase, yelling for Isabelle to get them ready to leave. Harry can't help but feel his cheeks flush, partly in anger and partly in embarrassment. He can't avoid hearing the "oomph" Nick lets out as I elbow him, forcing him to cover his laugh with an awkward cough.
"Dude, you..."
"Don't," Harry sighs, rubbing his forehead in frustration. "Just don't."
He turned and stomped down the stairs begrudgingly, anger boiling in his belly. Olivia and Nick were acting like an item, and Eleanor was already making his birthday a nightmare, which he didn't even want to celebrate in the first place. It's bad enough she vetoed the first tux he wanted to wear — even though she made a valid point that a white tux wasn't the smartest to wear when you're eating barbecue — but that wasn't the point. He still liked the first one better, and that was, in essence, the problem. He could never tell if she was genuinely being helpful or if she was manipulating him to get her way.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come along?" Isabelle asks once we all get downstairs, and I can see the hunger in her eyes as she talks to Eleanor, the desire to be included prominent on her features as she helped her boss get her little mink coat on.
Isabelle's eyes fall on me as I reach for my pea coat. I don't miss the slight curl of her upper lip as she looks down her narrow nose at me in distaste. Isabelle, somewhat similar to Stacey, is a social climber, completely hell bent on being Eleanor's pet, hanging on her every word and bowing to her every whim. She, idiotically, thinks this will somehow endear her to Eleanor in some way. I, having worked for Eleanor for months now, know that these are simply the things she expects from people. Her best efforts will probably, most likely, not be good enough, and it shouldn't get her down. I thought about telling her this, but unfortunately for her, she made Eleanor's coffee wrong once last week and blamed me, so I certainly won't be doing her any favors any time soon.
"Surely I could assist you better than..."
"Olivia!!" Eleanor screams bloody murder. I look up at her shocked, halting where I stand, tugging the coat taught to my shoulders. Eleanor looks horrified. "You cannot wear that monstrosity with that dress."
"But it's..." the only coat I have.
"I can't even believe you wore it over here," she spits. I blush, bowing my head in defeat. "Take it off, you can get it tomorrow."
"It's like 14 degrees outside," Nick exclaims, but I shake my head at him, sadly taking off my coat and putting it back on the rack.
Nick looks at Harry, trying to understand what's going on and why he's not interjecting, but Harry isn't paying attention. He stands silently by the door, still brooding from the exchange with Eleanor. He shouldn't get so worked up over rings, but it really wasn't about the rings. It was about the fact that she could say something hurtful just to get her way. How could she even insinuate he was gay?
He contemplates this on the elevator ride downstairs, not even paying attention to anything around him. He doesn't even notice the flock of people in the lobby who gawk at the well dressed group as they make their way outside — the celebrity and the mogul, the friend and their assistants. Eleanor loves the attention, standing taller, walking more elegantly. She thrives on it. He, on the other hand, had been gawked at for so much of his life while doing the most mundane of things that he shied away from the public eye in his old age. He hated the feeling of being watched like a hamster in its cage, never knowing who's watching you, judging you, or evaluating your kindness or happiness levels for a news headline and advertising money at the expense of your reputation.
His thoughts are only broken when he hears my sharp intake of breath once we hit the cold, January air. He looks over to find my body rigid, tiny goosebumps forming on the skin of my exposed upper body, not realizing until now just how much skin was exposed. His eyes are drawn once again to the creamy flesh of my breastbone, only shaken from the view when my tiny arms wrap tightly around my upper body to preserve as much heat as possible. Without even thinking about it, he slips his jacket off and gently places it around my shoulders.
I jump, shocked at the sudden warmth, our green eyes crashing together as another shiver slides through my body. This one, though, isn't from the cold. I give him a small smile as I pull the suit jacket around my body, loving the security it provided, but not as much as the scent. It smelled like him, and I never wanted to take it off.
His hand slips under the jacket, gently rubbing the low expanse of my exposed lower back. I was about to lean in to whisper a thank you when Eleanor interrupts.
"Harry! Come on!! You can't be late to your own birthday party."
—
A/N:
This is a little bit of filler, but I'm on a massive deadline that I'm working all kinds of crazy hours and traveling for — AND my crazy roommates who I had to call the cops on evicted me yesterday (long story, lol — that could be a book itself 😂). So now I have to move! Ahhhhh! Life!!
So, please bare with me a little bit and cut me some slack on "brilliance" haha. The really good part of the story is almost here, which I need, anyway. I need some kind of good news in my life, even if it's fake and I made it up myself!😂
Xo
😘