Masquerade ✔️

four: nate

Feel like we've been falling down
Like these autumn leaves.

"Four am? S.hit." I groan, stuffing my hands in my pockets and looking at Andrew.

"Sorry, Nate. But I've got something that might cheer you up." Andrew pulls an off-white envelope from his pocket and hands it to me, giving me a wink and sauntering off to talk to another cast member.

Nathaniel Sawyer is written in elegant cursive across the front, the words in real ink.

Carefully, so as to not damage the thick envelope, I open the flap and remove a piece of fine paper, with a long sentence written on the side that I can see.

You are cordially invited to attend The Petrova Masquerade Ball in one week's time.

I flip it over and read what's on the back.

Masks are not optional. Black tie. You must be there by exactly eight pm, at which time the doors will close for the night. RVSP by the nineteenth of November.

A Petrova invite? No f.ucking way.

• • •

"Mister Sawyer?" I snap out of my thoughts as the woman looks at me, smiling softly.

"Sorry." I mumble, my eyes skimming the rack of ties.

"The red tie would look good with your suit." The woman, who's name I can't remember for the life of my, smiles, removing a scarlet tie and holding it up against my chest.

"Ooh, but the blue would be nicer." Her name might be Amy, or Abby, something with an A. Can't recall.

"Whatever you think is best." I smile, looking out the window of the upscale men's shop.

Alice, that's it, hands the tie to me and guides me over to the shoe section, where rows of polished leather loafers gleam under the trendy lights.

"So your suit is grey, right?" Alice asks, skimming the shelves with the tips of her slender fingers.

"Yeah." I reply, following her gaze. Alice removes a pair of beige shoes and examines them for a moment, then scowls and puts them back.

"A size eleven?" She doesn't look over at me, only continuing to browse the row of shoes.

"Try these on." Alice hands me two black ones and I oblige, putting the shoes on.

"Yes." She nods.

"Okay, I think we're done here, Nate. Cash is up there, and I'll get your stuff packed up." Alice smiles and hurries off, I shrug and head for the register.

"That'll be three hundred dollars, Mister Sawyer." The man behind the counter smiles, pressing a button.

I swipe my credit card and pray it works, I haven't actually gotten paid for the movie yet.

"Here you are, sir. Have a nice day." Alice hands me a black paper bag with the words Calvin Klein written in white block letters across the side.

I push the door open quickly and step out into the warm New York sunlight. The Calvin Klein shop is in a row of upscale clothing stores that are mainly used by the rich, business people or celebrities.

Walking along the quiet sidewalk, I keep myself distracted by looking at the windows. Scarcely dressed women and men are pictured, all in various positions and facial expressions.

The Victoria's Secret window catches my eye and I stop to look at it.

A woman, one I vaguely recognize, poses in a black scrap of lace, a strapless bra and matching underwear. Her brown eyes, though the picture is in muted colour, seem to stare directly into mine, piercing and sympathetic. They're almost magnetic, capturing mine in their gaze.

She's very attractive, with high, elegant features and gorgeous brown hair, but those eyes are alluring. Magnificent.

Then I realize who she is. The girl from a few weeks ago, on the news.

Noelle. Noelle Bellerose.

A/N: Serious filler.