11/28 by uliaj06

five

Shit.

His face falls.

I still as he looks at me. It feels like my heart stopped beating and everything around me goes silent.

It's unusual how everything still continues around me, the music still plays, and the room continues to swarm with conversation, yet at the same time, it feels like my world stopped.

His jaw clenches and his eyes narrows with curiosity. My gaze drops to his hands, gripping the railings tighter than before. Averting my eyes, I couldn't stand looking at him anymore.

"Are you ok?" The woman who I forgot was still beside me asked.

I turn my attention to her. "Yeah." I respond with an exhale.

"Well, I am going to talk to the host." She beams. "You're welcome to come—you should. Let's talk to the man of the hour!" She excitedly suggests with a smile.

"Oh, I'm good." Trust me.

"He's good for publicity too." She raises her brows.

My eyes quickly move to him, only to find him looking our way.

"He's looking at you." I tell Lauren. "Go have your moment and please steal him for the night." So I won't have to see him.

"Alright. Good luck!" She flashes her winning smile and walks towards the group of women who seek his attention.

Almost as if it were out of my control, my eyes move back to his just as they moved down my body like he was trying to figure out a puzzle.

The thought that he recognizes me crossed my mind, but I pushed it away knowing he probably won't. He most likely forgot about me.

He tilts his head slightly, staring directly at me like he's questioning if it really is me.

Maybe he does remember.

The look on my face probably confirmed it's me.

Not just anyone would look at him with this much envy, although I'm trying to mask it, it's still obvious.

I need to go.

Move your legs! Fuck, why aren't they moving?

I need to focus on something else. God, this can't be happening! I try to focus on anything but him. He won't do anything. I'll just slowly sneak away after the speech is finished, and I doubt he'd even want to speak to me. I mean, why would he want to?

Right, he won't want to. If I can recall, he said he wanted me out of life. He'll probably just ignore me the whole time here, that is if he even cares enough. I won't even be a second thought to him, he'll forget I'm even here.

His father's speaking now. I can't even comprehend the words his father is saying. I hear his voice but not the words. But then his voice stopped talking, marking the end of his speech.

Look, maybe he doesn't know it's me. Maybe he doesn't recognize me.

I risk another glance at him.

This time he quickly looks away to a different place, a different place that isn't me. I take it as a chance to let my stare linger, feeling like I'm on a tightrope—the lines between being unable to keep my eyes off of him, and seeing him being completely unbearable—are thin.

He knows it's me. I know, no matter how hard I'm trying to deny it, he knows.

When his eyes move back onto me, I look down so he wouldn't catch the moment of vulnerability.

The anticipation is too much so I look again just in time as he looks away, but I didn't turn my vision fast enough so when he sneaks another glance, we make contact for three seconds.

Three seconds being far too long, I regret it deeply when he starts walking down the stairs.

He's walking down the stairs while staring at me.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I know he's going to approach me. His eyes are set on my face, walking directly in my direction.

I grab my white clutch and walk quickly out of the ballroom, frantically looking where to go, needing to hide.

I gently push my way through people, trying to find a place to get away from him until I finally spot the bathrooms.

I lock myself in one of the stalls, taking deep breaths, trying to steady myself.

I can't believe this is happening right now. God, why is this happening to me?

I begin to take in my surroundings as a form of distraction.

I bet this is a really fancy bathroom. I can already tell from the smell and the well-polished floors. I look down and see a golden toilet-paper holder.

Wow... they must really pay attention to detail.

I walk out of the stall to observe the rest of the bathroom to pass time.

I was right, this is a fancy bathroom.

I tilt my head back to look at the high ceiling, then continue to walk around the spacious room, my heels clicking against the white and grey marble floor.

There's a huge mirror that takes up the whole half of the wall while the sinks take up the other. I graze my fingertips against the cold, white counters of the sinks, looking at my reflection through the lit-up mirror. This place has the best lighting.

I crouch down and open the wooden cabinets, curious about what's inside. One was filled with extra tissues and paper towels and the other... Oh! Pads and Tampons, finally! They look fancy too, where the hell do people buy tampons that looked like this? Watch these be from fucking Gucci.

The third one had some extra hand soap bottles and towels. And the fourth one had... Ooo they have those fancy metal razors to shave your legs with and organic mouthwash?

Huh?

How do you even make organic mouthwash?!

They also have some toothpaste and toothbrushes. God, they have everything in here. I'll have to come back and borrow some things.

I get up before anyone sees me crouched down looking through the cabinets. I fix my appearance, taking my time to just stare at myself, run my fingers through my hair, reapply lipstick, and steal some of the razors and toothpaste, putting it into my clutch. I'm just procrastinating going out there.

Once I get bored, I hesitate and slowly open the door, scanning the hallway to make sure he wasn't there like a goddamn stalker just waiting for me.

I need a drink.

This is too much effort, always having to keep an eye out to avoid running into him.

I successfully get to the bar without getting caught. Navigating the nearest bar stool, I sit, still trying to register my unmentioned collision.

This feels like a literal nightmare.

How the hell, out of anyone else from high school, literally anyone else, I run into Tate.

How is that even possible?

I see his name mentioned in articles or the news, I just avoid reading or watching anything that has something to do with him. I didn't want to know anything about him.

How, out of the millions of other places he could've been in, he's in the same room as me?

There's so many other states to choose from, other countries too. Hell, even different parts of New York.

There's so many other parts of New York yet miraculously, we end up in the same place, at the same time.

I look around to see if he's in the room. I find him near the entrance, the exit now since I presume everyone's arrived. He's standing there with his acquaintances making conversations.

Just two more people and I can get out of here.

I scan the room, needing an escape plan. The bartender gives me my drink. Thanking him, I get out of the chair and started walking over to the ballroom.

I just need to be wherever he isn't.

As I speed-walk through the crowd in hopes that he won't find me, I look for Aelin. I spot her drinking vodka with some guy. She didn't notice me yet so I backed away, leaving her since she seems to be enjoying her time. I just wanted to check up on her.

I used the same tactic as last time, trying to find a friendly face to ask if they've talked or seen the publisher I'm trying to find.

I thought he was scary at first, but once I've gotten to talk to him, he's actually really friendly. We bonded over flowers. I found him standing over a vase and observing the arrangement. I think it's sweet how such an intimidating looking man can be soften with something as simple as lilacs and orchids.

He even offered if I'd like to come to the Chanel fashion show with him in October. I told him only if he'd come to a show I'm assisting at in a few months. He told me it's a deal.

Two down, one to go.

I lean against the counter of the bar, champagne in my hand, studying the room.

I want to remember everything. Pictures won't capture it right.

I want to remember the large paintings that look like they belong to an art museum, the curved staircases that Tate previously stood at, and of course, the large crystal chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling.

I love chandeliers and how the violins that played classical music echoed through the long corridors. I love the detailed pillars—

"Ladies and gentlemen... It's time for the dance. Grab your dates, or whoever you want to dance with, and come to the dance floor" The singer said into the mic.

A song starts playing and I watch as people started to gather. I tilt my head back up and continue admiring the chandelier.

The refined crystals sparkled whichever way the light hit. It's so grand...

"Found you." I hear someone whisper from behind me.

My heart started racing, feeling sick to my stomach, already knowing who it is. His voice is a little deeper but I still recognized it.

"Hi, Tate." I sighed, turning around.

He did get taller.

I was in shock. So shocked I didn't comprehend that the person who hurt and betrayed me, is in front of my very eyes right now.

"Surprised you didn't forget about me." He mutters.

I was frozen in my spot, staring up at the man I haven't been face to face with in years.

He stood there with a suit and tie, the same dark brown hair I knew, parted in the middle, his hair is wavy but with the product in his hair it made it look like he had curls. I liked it though. No. Rowan, stop.

"Yeah, well it's kind of hard to forget about you when you're everywhere. The news, billboards, articles, papers, and you somehow own parts of every company." I throw the rest of my drink down my throat, starting to walk away.

And the fact that what he did shaped me to be the person I am today. The good and the bad.

Just his presence is already making me angry.

I feel him walk past me. He's in front of me now, blocking me from going anywhere.

I sighed. "Just leave me alone." I looked up at him and tried to move around him, but he moved, blocking me from leaving.

"What do you want?" I furrow my brow, not wanting to be anywhere even close to him.

"What are you doing here? In New York. At my event?" He asks.

"That's none of your business." I respond, looking past his shoulder.

"Just tell me."

"Why?"

"So I can get you out faster." He mutters.

I scoffed and turned around, walking toward a worker to get another glass of champagne. I can feel him following me.

I'm going to vomit.

"Do you want to dance?" He offers.

"No." I gulp down the champagne.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to do anything with you." I say disgusted, turning my attention to the people dancing.

"Please?"

"No. I'm busy." I decline.

"Busy doing what?" He continues.

"Busy trying to look for someone so I can leave." I shouldn't be talking to him, but I can't help it.

"Who are you looking for?" He pushes.

I ignore him and walk away to a table just wanting to watch the people dance. He comes over and stands next to me, but I refuse to notice.

"You look stressed." He comments.

"Stop looking then." I reply dully.

"I know a place that'll help." He offers.

My jaw drops with offense. "Are you really trying to get with me right now?" I hate him.

The corner of his lips tugged up briefly. "No. I know a place with a better view." He noticed me watching the people dance.

I stay silent.

"It's up there." He points to the empty area above the stairs. "You can see the whole scene from afar." His voice not only changed in depth, but with mannerism. It's smoother, his words controlled, his tone was respectful, steady and consistent as if he was taught to lack emotions.

"With you?" The space is empty, if it were allowed for everyone, it wouldn't be.

"Yeah." He answers. Surely, he can't expect that I want to spend time with him.

"I don't want to be seen or associated with you," I state blandly. "Go ask one of the many other women who are so desperate for your attention." People are already starting to stare at us just standing next to each other. I turn so my back is towards them.

"Alright." He walks away.

.

I don't know what game he's playing.

I'm keeping to myself, sipping drinks and listening to the music. But one by one, I see more girls going up the area above the staircase. Not crowded, but not empty. They're talking to each other or watching the people below.

He isn't up there, so out of curiosity, I step up the stairs until I'm at the edge, resting my arms against the cold railing. I know I'm taking his bait, but it's a phenomenal view up here.

I could see everything.

I can see the different styles of dancing and all the people laughing and talking. This is my favorite spot in this building.

A few minutes pass and I see him below looking up at me.

My eyes have always been trained to find him no matter the place or the amount of people present.

I wish I could turn it off, it's irritating when his stupid face and his stupid suit is all my focus is drawn to when it's the last thing I want to see.

When he sees my attention brought to him, he grins faintly, places his hands behind his back, and nods his head in acknowledgment.

I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.

.

"Dance with me." He says when I'm downstairs again, going to grab another glass of champagne.

"No."

"One dance and I'll get whoever you need to do whatever you want." I ignore him and walk away. "I know you want to get out of here." He calls out, making me stop. "Four minutes."

"Why do you want to dance with me?" I slowly walk back to Tate.

"Because I want to." He shrugs his shoulders.

I sighed, actually thinking about it. One dance. It's actually a good offer that might save me time and I could probably leave here quicker. "Still no."

"I really thought you were going to say yes." He tilts his head to the side.

"I can't dance." I walk away but of course, he follows.

"Then why come to this event? It had it listed." He said while following me, a hint of confusion in his voice.

"No one told me, and I didn't know events like these had dances," I explained. Lynn didn't tell me any details about this event, just the address. "And stop following me around! It's getting creepy."

I saw a slight smile form on his lips that faded quickly.

"It was my sister's idea. She wanted an excuse to dance with her boyfriend—ex boyfriend. Whatever they are." He says while the music continues in the background.

I nodded at the useless information. "Stop following me," I state once more before walking faster away.

I found that he actually stopped, making my heart sink in both disappointment and disgust. Disappointment because he actually listened and I like when people give me attention, and disgust that I'm bored and I'm walking back because I want to spice up life every opportunity I get.

He's standing in the same spot watching the people dance. "I knew you'd come back." He places his hands behind his back as we stood side by side.

"How?"

"They always come back to me." He retorts with such a sure tone I want to walk away from him again.

I scoff. "Yeah, well they all come back for the same reasons." I put silence in between us just for a greater effect. "To use you. Like what I'm doing right now." I run my hands across the fabric of my red dress making sure there weren't any wrinkles. "That's all you'll ever be good for," I say with a tone of carelessness.

He doesn't respond afterward; I don't look to my side to see his expression.

"One dance and you'll do anything?" I confirm when he stood quietly.

"Still doing what you always do? Using people?" He copies my tone.

He actually took to heart what I said. It's amusing.

"I guess we're a perfect match then, huh?" I despise him.

"Guess so." He mutters under his breath.

"You offered anyways." I readjust my necklaces. I caught the quick glance he stole. "Why do you want to dance with me?" I repeat, genuinely wondering.

"Stop asking so many questions."

My jaw drops at his comment. "You're the one who asked me non-stop questions." I turn to face him.

"And how the tables turned." He grins.

"Answer the question please." I actually wanted to know.

"Begging now?" Amusement danced in his eyes.

I raised my eyebrows at him, telling him he's pissing me off.

"Can't I want to spend time with an old friend?" He fakes an innocent tone.

Bullshit. "No. What's in it for you?" I challenge him.

He looks back and forth between my eyes, looking like he's deciding. "You shouldn't be talking to me." He says with a cocky expression as if he could read my mind.

"You shouldn't either." I look away, refusing to acknowledge the green of his eye. "I'm being smart. It would take me an hour to get this person. And it's a what? Four minute dance with you?"

He grins, I know it's fake by the way his eyes look emotionless. "Impressive, Ms. Lane." He sneaks a glance at me before looking at the people again. "C'mon," He said, starting to walk to where people were dancing.

The song ended and changed to "Turning Page." It was authenticity instrumental, altered a little to be more graceful and fit for this scene.

He stood there, at the center of the room, where people were slow dancing. He turns to look at where I was, raised his eyebrows, and gave me the "are you coming" look, waiting patiently there.

I can't believe I'm actually going to do this.

I start to head toward him, regretting every step I took, him patiently watching me with a smug smile, subtle enough that it wasn't there for those who hadn't been watching.

I stand in front of him so were face to face while people around us slow dance.

"I don't know how to dance." I remind him.

"It's a slow dance, it's easy." He holds out his hand for me to take. "I'll go slow."

I look at it hesitant, then looked up at his face and gently placed my hand in his. His hands are cold and my heart instantly raced at the contact.

He placed his other hand on my waist, against the fabric of my red dress, slowly moving it to my back. My breathing hitched.

I'm aware the very hands I'm holding right now, I once held for relief. The body in front of me, was what I once knew was home. And the man I don't know anymore, was once my safe place. Therefore my heart ached in a pain I prayed I'd never feel again.

I remembered when I longed for his touch when he left, to help me when I needed him. No one's touch compared to his, no matter how hard I tried to find someone new.

Shivers spread all over my body. I put my other hand on his shoulder, feeling the expensive material of his black suit.

I swallow whatever remains of sadness I had and focused on what's needed to be done. Just one dance.

The previous song ended and changed to "Turning Page." It was authenticity instrumental, altered a little to be more graceful and fit for this scene.

I can smell his cologne.

I look around watching the people's foot movements, trying to memorize them.

"You had prom, right? How do you not know how to dance?" He asks, starting to gently turn us around. He goes slow with the foot movement, trying to guide me.

"I skipped it." I say, looking down at our feet, trying to memorize the rhythm. "Me and some friends just went to a park and got drunk- fuck." I accidentally stepped on his foot.

"It's okay." He whispers, guiding me back to the rhythm.

I look down the whole time, concentrating on getting it right. Anything but his cologne, his eyes, his height, his hands, just... him.

Starting to get used to the dance, I look up. He brought his eyes to mine. I intentionally step on his foot with my heel.

I keep my vision over his shoulders, at the room and people. His vision however, I could feel evidently on me. "How've you been?"

His voice broke me out of my concentration which is why I missed a step and tripped. Tripped into his solid, steady arms I wanted to shove away when he wrapped them around me to prevent me from falling.

I cleared my throat. "I agreed to a dance. Not a conversation." I muttered when I'm up right.

"Just trying to be polite." He whispers.

"No need." I inform him.

Outside the area where people were dancing, a woman with faded lavender hair caught my eye. "Do you remember my sister, Syd?" Tate must've noticed.

How could I not? I wanted to tell him. But I didn't want to start a conversation.

Her hair's straightened, cropped to her shoulders now, almost unrecognizable from the last time I saw her when she had long, dark brown hair.

She's telling a server to wait as she gulps down three glasses of champagne, placing the empty ones back on the tray, grabbing two more, then repeating. The guy I'm assuming is her date had to pull her away from her fifth one, telling her they should dance as he leads her to the center.

I turn back to Tate who was watching them too but now looking at me.

"Is she ok...?" I asked him, concerned.

"Um... she's kind of an alcoholic." He answered, turning his gaze back to them, then at me again.

"Oh..." I nod.

"She's ok though." He reassures. "She's not a bad alcoholic."

I just nod, not knowing what else to say.

"Why New York?" He brings up, curiosity glistening in his eyes.

"It's a state, anyone can live in it."

"I told you I was coming here."

I look at him in disbelief. "So what, you think after suffering junior and senior year and having a life, I'd still remember that? You think after all the things I've been through I'd still think about you?" I've spent so long trying to erase him from my mind.

"Well, you never did have a good memory. Not surprised." He scoffs with a cold tone.

"Did I hurt your feelings?" I mock him when I realize his change of tone.

"Fuck off."

"I would but..." I motion to our hands together.

He places his gaze ahead, not on me anymore. His face did get more... mature? His jawline is sharper, his face is chiseled and defined. I look away.

I focus on anywhere but him, counting down the seconds before the song ends.

"Has anyone told you that you looked beautiful tonight, yet?"

"Yeah. Multiple, actually."

He moves the hand that was holding mine down to my waist. I moved my hand to his other shoulder, having no where else to put it.

He pulls me closer.

"You look beautiful." He whispers.

My stomach dropped.

"You look terrible." I shake my head, faking pity.

"Yeah?" He whispers lowly, obviously entertained.

I can feel his eyes on me, but I keep looking at the others, refusing to make eye contact with him. "Yeah." I swallow the lie. "You're hair... It looks really oily." I blurt out the first thing that came into my mind, trying to keep a straight face. He really didn't, his whole presence was the definition of clean.

He cleared his throat, his face having more emotion than I've seen all night. He's trying to suppress a smile too.

"You look..." What am I supposed to say? I hate him. Right? Rowan, say something! "Taller." I stammered.

What the fuck, Rowan?! Why did you say that?

I look away, widening my eyes and regretting what I said.

He had a smile on his face, finding it funny.

"I did..." He said, trying to contain his laugh. "Get taller..."

"I like your shoes." I tell him awkwardly. Stop talking Rowan.

This is so embarrassing.

"I like yours too." He plays along, his eyes lit up.

"Your rings look shin-shiny." I clenched my lips together, looking up at the ceiling wondering why I said that.

"Thank you." He says a bit confused. I would be too.

The song ends.

Thank god!

I ramble when I'm nervous.

I take a deep breath, trying to put myself together.

"His name is Hill Finch, he's an editor. I need you to convince him to go to a fashion show of Marc Jacobs', it's the one 3 months from now." I say quickly, walking away from him.

I hope I never have to see him again.