08. Détesté
Hated
"I'm so pleased you could make it."
"It's a pleasure seeing you in such tolerable health, tonight."
"How is business, Monsieur Dubois?"
It was like clockwork. A guest would enter, Alice would press a kiss to their cheek and send a polite smile paired with small talk. She felt as though the string of pearls across her neck was choking her.
Quiet music swelled around her, the voices of her guests muttering around her. Another weekend of course meant another Travers soiree. Alice thought of the chemistry practical exam she had on Monday. She'd much rather be buried in her sheets drawing Lewis diagrams.
A silvery head of hair caught her sight and she turned. She recognised his face. His parents had definitely mentioned him before, but he'd never attended one of these parties.
She searched her mind for his name. Ra... Rah...
"Mr Rashid." The name burst from her lips.
The man turned, his eyes falling upon her and then immediately moving away. He tried to sidestep her, but the crowd closed in and he huffed.
"Sorry, young lady, I'm looking for the Travers," he said hurriedly.
She didn't flinch. She was used to it at this point. Most of the guests knew only the face of Mr Travers, and it had not been one Alice had inherited.
She smiled, ignoring his remark, and simply replied with, "Welcome. I hope you have a good night."
Before she could turn to leave him, a voice called out.
"Alice Travers!"
Alice spun to see a petite blonde woman clinging to the arm of a tall, brown haired man the spitting image of Theo. She glanced over their shoulders, seeing no sign of the teenage boy as the crossed the entrance.
Briefly, her eyes wandered to Mr Rashid beside her. He had paused in his tracks, his eyes flicking back to Alice, down to her pearl necklace, glancing over her shoes. He took in her easy grace, her crystal specked dress, and promptly, his neck turned red.
Before he could speak, Alice stepped towards the woman, slinking as far away as possible from Mr Rashid. He'd made his bed, she decided, and so he could lie in it.
"Mr and Mrs McKay!" Alice grinned. She leaned forward, kissing their cheeks. "It's so lovely to see you tonight. Is Theo here?"
"Oh, no, he couldn't make it." Mrs McKay smiled sadly. "He has a big game tomorrow night. He needs his rest."
"Of course," Alice said, keeping her voice level.
She was quiet when her parents rushed forward, slipping past Mr Rashid, and pulling the McKays into a droning conversation on the McKay's law firm and their latest cases. Alice turned with a sigh, letting her smile drop for a moment and pressing a finger to her temple.
Theo did have a big game tomorrow. She knew scouts would probably be there. But Theo was getting into the Elite Athlete Program whether he liked it or not, what with his parents' connections.
She glanced around the room, watching middle aged men discuss politics, and their wives gossip about the latest happenings and newest rumours.
She felt isolated. No one her age had attended. This was one of her parents' more formal parties, the type that involved heavy networking and politesse. Not many teenagers were trained in etiquette, and Emily hadn't come either.
Her parents had locked her in her room after discovering she'd failed her last chemistry exam. She was cursed to spend the weekend studying polarisation and equilibrium. She wouldn't stop texting Alice about how much she wished she were there, and the gorgeous dress she'd prepared for tonight.
Alice almost felt as bad for Emily as she did for herself.
"Alice, dear!"
She turned, her smile coming instinctively, to find the Cauleys.
Again, Finley had attended, his hands dug deep into his pockets. His blond hair was swept back, accentuating his sharp cheekbones and chiselled jawline. His eyes were grey as he watched her kiss his parents' cheeks.
"Mr and Mrs Cauley, how delightful to see you tonight!"
"And you, dear." Mrs Cauley smiled. "You look beautiful! Doesn't she, Finley?"
He stayed quiet, and Mrs Cauley faced her again to gush about her dress.
Soon, they'd moved on to greet her parents, and Alice was left facing Finn. She had déjà vu, watching as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
"Finley," she greeted pleasantly. "I'm pleased you could make it."
He snorted at the fake kindness, sending her a devilish smirk and wink. "I'm sure you are."
She blinked, coolly maintaining her close-lipped smile. "Are you making it a habit to attend these events now?"
"I'm still deciding," he replied, taking his time to smile at her. "Is it a problem?"
"No, no," Alice said, quickly, although it did feel strange seeing Cauley at social gatherings after all these years. "It's no problem at all."
He squeezed her hand, and she felt her heart race as she realised that he was still holding it. His eyes narrowed on her. "Good."
And with that, he released her hand and began moving through the room.
He moved so elegantly across the parlour, shaking hands with men in suits along the way. It was strange, seeing that fake smile tug at his lips so naturally, as if he hadn't disappeared from high society for the past four years.
Soon, his silvery blond head was stationed in the corner of the room, chatting politely and laughing at all the right times. A tray passed him, and he began sipping on a glass of whiskey.
He fit in perfectly.
"Miss Travers."
Alice blinked, turning to see a short, hunched woman with white hair and wrinkles around her eyes. She smiled at her.
"Mrs Archibald," she said, pressing a delicate kiss to the woman's cheek. "It's so lovely to see you tonight!"
And the routine resumed—standing by the door, pressing kisses to strangers' cheeks and discussing topics ranging from the weather to the current climate of the stock market.
Trays of hors d'oeuvres passed her along with glasses of wine and champagne—only the best from her parents' vineyard in Bordeaux. Alice didn't touch any of it. A good host let her guests eat first.
An hour passed, simply greeting incoming guests before the front gates were shut and she began her rounds. She plucked a flute of champagne from a tray and sipped on it lightly, making polite conversation across the room.
She was in the middle of a frilly discussion on Chanel's winter line with a group of middle-aged gold-diggers when her phone buzzed in her pocket.
"Excusez-moi," Alice muttered.
The women paid no attention to her as she stepped away, turning to open her phone. She smiled, expecting to find another message from Emily complaining about Le Châtelier's principle and the Van Hoff principle, only to find the words she dreaded staring up at her.
Unknown Sender.
She blinked and gazed around the room. People continued to chatter, oblivious to Alice's swelling heart and trembling fingers. She found Finn in the same corner as an hour ago, his eyes narrowed and watching her, but no phone in sight. Her eyes drifted to his pocket. The outline of his phone.
She looked back to her phone screen. A part of her thought of deleting it without reading it, but she couldn't help herself. Reluctantly, she opened the message.
Unknown Sender: Busy flirting with senior citizens while your boyfriend sleeps around with other girls.
She blinked, then re-read the message, then re-read it again.
Sleeps around. It was a lie, right? This person was just trying to get a rise out of her. It wasn't true. He had to stay home because he had a big game tomorrow.
Right?
She felt a lump grow in her throat and her mouth suddenly felt very dry. Her head spun. It wasn't true. It was just a message. Yet, her heart panged at the thought and she found herself overthinking everything.
She thought of how distant he'd been all week, how much he wanted to sleep with her but how resistant she was to it. She thought of the excuses he'd made to not hang out with her.
You're such a prude.
It was a lie. Right?
Suddenly, the room was spinning. She was vaguely aware of muttering an excuse before slowly, calmly walking up the steps to her room, her hand clutching at the stair railing. Her heels thudded dully against the carpeted grand staircase until she reached her room.
She tore her bedroom door open, taking one step in before crumpling to the floor. A cry escaped her lips, tears finally tumbling over her eyes and onto her cheeks. Her hand clasped at her mouth as a mangled sob fought its way out.
Alice shouted in pure frustration, her heart twinging, and she felt herself throw her phone at the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Her hands trembled as she sucked in a shaky breath, trying to blink her tears away. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Sniffling, she ignored her running mascara and the way her dress wrinkled beneath her knees. All she could do was cry, and cry, and cry.
There was a distant sound of hurried footsteps approaching, and Alice inhaled sharply. She pressed the backs of her hands to her eyes, wiping her tears away with a loud sniffle.
Still sitting on the floor, she moved to kick the door closed behind her when a hand reached out, catching the door before it shut.
She paused, looking up to meet the stormy grey eyes of Finn Cauley. He knelt beside her, his foot kicking the door shut with a loud thud.
"What—" she began, her voice much shakier than she'd intended. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried again. "What are you doing here?"
She tried to force her tears to stop, pressing her quivering lips into a neutral expression.
"The party's downstairs, Cauley," she began, her voice cold and quiet. She pulled at her lips, attempting the classic Travers smile and politesse. "I think you're mistaken."
"Don't pull that shit with me," he growled, his brow furrowed.
She clenched her teeth, feeling her face betray her as a tear trickled down her cheek, her brows furrowing. He watched her, his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed in a thin line. She swept it away quickly, turning her back to him.
"Leave me alone, Cauley."
"No."
"Get out of my room," she insisted, her voice growing louder.
"I'm not leaving, Travers. Why are you crying?"
"I'm not," Alice said, despite the crack in her voice. She sniffled, trying to compose herself. She wouldn't cry in front of Finn Cauley. She'd never live it down. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."
"That's bullshit and you know it," Finn replied lowly. He slid closer to her on the floor, but she kept her back turned. "What the hell happened, Travers?"
"Why can't you just leave me alone!?" Alice stammered, her eyes watering. "Why are you always there? Why can't you just—"
"Answer my question," he interrupted her darkly. "I won't ask again."
"I—" she paused, turning to meet his eyes. He watched her, eyes dark and narrowed and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. A streak of warmth trailed after the tear, splitting her mask of etiquette apart. She slumped over, a flood of tears erupting.
"I thought they stopped," she cried, her voice cracking. "And now—Everything's going wrong!"
His hand ghosted over her back, rubbing between her shoulder blades. She sniffled, her lips trembling as she tried—and failed—to compose herself. She could feel her body wracking with each sob, and through it all, a hand gently stroking her hair.
A bubble grew in her chest, bursting with every sob and cry, melting with each tear that fell to her chin. Her mouth tasted of salt as tears gathered at the corners of her lips.
Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment.
She was a Travers. Travers women did not break down in the middle of a soiree. Travers women didn't find trash in their locker. Travers women didn't receive cruel text messages and get ignored by their almost-boyfriends.
Shame filled her, but she continued to sob, pressing her palms against her eyes.
A thought occurred to her and she pulled away, ripping Finn's arms off of her. She stabbed a finger at his chest, her brows furrowing in anger.
"Was it you?" she asked.
"Me?"
"Yes, you. Was it you? Are you the one texting me? Leaving rubbish in my locker? Is it you, Cauley?"
Finn shook his heady slowly. His hands, which he'd raised in defence, lowered, taking her accusing finger into his palm and letting it rest in her lap.
"It wasn't me, Alice," he said. His voice sounded sincere, but Alice wasn't convinced.
"Cauley, I swear to God, if I find out it was you—"
"It wasn't me."
"I will... I'll kill you. If it's you, I'll kill you, got it?"
Finn laughed. He nodded, smiling down at her. "Got it. You have my full permission. Swear it.s"
She stared at him, unblinking, challenging him to look away. Except he kept his gaze steady on her and slowly, so slowly, he dipped his head down in a nod. Alice had no choice but to believe him.
The burning behind her eyes had grown unbearable and she felt tears fall down her cheeks. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned forward again, allowing Finn to take her into his arms.
"All my books are ruined," she muttered.
"You can buy new ones," he said.
"I know," she said, feeling foolish. "I know. I just—who's doing this? What do I do? I've never been—no one's ever hated me before and—"
Her thoughts were all over the place.
"They keep sending me these messages—"
"I know."
"And they're saying Theo'sThey're saying he's—" she hiccupped loudly. "He's been ignoring me, and I thought we had something, and our parents want us to—I just—"
She paused, sucking in a deep breath and a sniffle. She looked up at Finn, her eyes big and watery, her face streaked with tears and mascara. He watched her, his face clenched and angular.
He'd never seen her like this before. Alice had never shed a tear in front of him since they were children and she'd scraped a knee—until her mother had scolded her, calling it unladylike and whacking a hand against the grazed skin.
They'd been five years old, and he'd never seen her cry again.
But now, Alice was looking up at her with those huge watery eyes. She sucked in uneven breaths, her face blotchy and swelling, falling apart at the seams.
"I don't know what to do," she said, her voice quiet.
"We'll figure it out," Finn muttered. His hand moved to grip her shoulder, his breath fanning over her face. She blinked, her tears suddenly dry beneath his gaze, her hiccups falling silent. "We'll figure it out."