Skippin' The Hard Part | Skipp x Reader

Chapter 3 - Scoundrel

Y/n's POV

"Y/n, darling, won't you be a dear and help fasten my collar for me please?" Your mother called you over without so much as a glance towards you.

You compliantly went over to your mom who was sitting in front of her vanity. In the mirror, she looked exquisite, her makeup truly making her the divine lootbag she was. You button the collar of her dress and stepped back, realizing you have to get ready too.

Your mother invited you--well, forced you--to come with her to some classy party for the rich. There was going to be a lot of snobby rich folks and a lot of adults looking down on even the slightest imperfections on one's apparel. You fiddled with your own nightgown, listening to your mother rant about who's attending and who's not.

"I sure hope Mrs. Cunningham isn't going to bring her ill-fitted daughter. Last time she brought her to one of these events, she sneezed all over Mr. Richardson's suit. And I was right next to him! Ugh, I can't stand misbehaving children."

Glimpsing over to you, she curled her lips upward. "Speaking of misbehaving children," she sneered looking you up and down. "Shouldn't you be getting ready as well? Leaving the house in a nightgown is unacceptable."

You scrambled out the door shouting "Yes, mom!" and hurried to your wardrobe. Selecting a suitable dress, you tore it off the clothing rack and threw it on before your mother entered the room.

She stared at you in your simple pink gown and smiled. "The skill to put clothes on at such a hasty speed is an admirable trait. Now hurry along then. Some much-needed jewelry is missing."

A groan escaped your throat. "Yes, mom," you grumbled as you trudged to your dressing table. She clicked her tongue in the way she always did, letting you know her patience was growing thin.

You sighed. You didn't want to go to this dumb party, but at least there'll be free food.

•••

The party took place in a grand building at a rented venue with marble pillars, crystal chandeliers, and polished floors. This was just like any other rich-people event you've been to with your mom. Heels and dress shoes clacked on the ground, along with the quiet chatter of subtle gossip and flustered greetings. Servants were passing around hors d'oeuvres and you reached out to grab one before your mother smacked your hand away.

"Don't even bother. You'll fill your stomach soon enough once it's time for lunch," she said keeping her chin up. You looked around at the wealthy folks doing the same, the ladies curtsying to their fellow acquaintances and the gentlemen wiping their noses on their handkerchiefs.

This party was boring. The children were standing awkwardly behind their parents, not bothering to socialize with kids their age. You realized you were doing the same, idling while your mother spoke with another woman who happened to be her friend.

"Y/n, this is Mrs. Albrecht and her son Charles. The Albrechts have been our trustworthy business partner for months. It's a blessing to have you meet at last."

Recognizing that as your cue, you lifted your skirt and gave them a small curtsy. "Hello, Mrs. Albrecht and Charles. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The son gave you a rude sneer and you fought the urge to snarl back. The adults continued talking, and you thought about sneaking away to run off somewhere else. You wanted to explore the venue and snag a few sweets on the way. Looking at your surroundings, it should be easy to navigate, as there weren't too many crowds or obstacles in the way.

"Mom, I need to use the restroom," you interrupted her conversation with her friend. She waved you off, saying "hurry back" before continuing her babble.