Casually Cruel

I knew you were trouble

The Pear Party was opulent. Ali was curious about going but hesitant. She had always been more about making movies than she was about its accoutrements. In High School, Steve had talked her into going to a networking event at the local film festival. After waiting in a long line, Ali ended up asking Sarah Polly where the bathrooms were located.. because she had forgotten her real question. Ali was so embarrassed that she spent the rest of the event in a bathroom stall. Steve had to pay a stranger to coax her out. 

Even in the bio-engineering community, she tended to skip out on the banquets at conferences in favour of extra reading time. But, for the Pear Party, Steve was insistent. 

"The Pear Party is non-negotiable"

"Steve, I would rather die."

"A, if you don't come then I can't go and this is a career maker. We always go over the worst and best dress list - every year! You could see it live!"

"I could be on it, Steve! Scientist who made a movie wears a labcoat inspired mini and Selena Gomez throws up on her - LITERALLY VOMITS STEVE."

"Not possible. I'm in charge of our look"

"Steve."

"Ali, please. I need you."

Steve arranged for her to fly on the day of the party so that they could arrive together. He'd even picked out a dress for her to match the shiny mother-of-pearl lapel on his smoking jacket. Ali never could say not to Steve.

Steve was at home at events like the Pear Party. Taking to the attention as if he were born for it.

 Ali looked like and acted like a baby deer. She was acutely aware of her dress; too tight and too long. Her shoes were monstrously tall. Her lithe body felt gangly, like a statue coming to life with all the elegance of stone. She was a Gargoyle, a Grotesque in shimmering opalescent makeup.

But she managed to smile and wave and stick to Steve's side like glue for a hot minute.

Steve was quickly pulled into a group of handsome and impeccably dressed young men. She was sure she'd seen the one in the sparkly blue jacket on every up-and-comers list for the past three years. Steve had a crush on him. She thought he looked suspiciously like a lizard in a clown wig dyed black. But, still, Ali couldn't blame Steve for abandoning his boring old best friend. But, regardless of intent, this was where things started to get crazy. 

Ali was leaning against the wall, trying to take the pressure off her rapidly blistering feet, when suddenly a host of cameras pointed her way flashing into her eyes like sunbursts.

She had made a perfectly printable picture - leaning in a bored and downcast way until the surprise turned her already doe-eyed features into a mirror of Marilyn Monroe herself. Her red lips parted on an 'o'. In her haste to get out of the way of the photographers, she blindly made her way back to the red carpet, where she paused, orienting herself - only to be run into from behind by none other than Jon Gustafsson himself. He stepped on the bottom of her dress, ripping off the artful mermaid ruffle attached at a diagonal from her knees on one side to her ankle on the other. He tore her dress, and she tumbled over backwards off her ridiculous heels. He caught her. All the stunt training for his recent war movie paid off as he grabbed her, leaning over with his arm around her waist, somehow maintaining his balance. They made eye contact and held it. The world fell away as these two stunningly beautiful people created an image that would later go on to win photojournalism awards.

They were both out of breath, stunned.

"Hello." He said, still maintaining eye contact.

"Hi."

"Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

He righted her, placing her back on her feet, right there in the middle of the red carpet, and the pair posed for a few more pictures before Ali took off her heels and waved to the press, prancing off to find Steve and what was left of her dignity. Jon stared after her cinematically while his red-headed date tried to salvage her moment in the spotlight, clinging to his arm.