It's Not You, It's Me (Book Two) #Wattys2018

Between Twelve and Thirteen (Special Chapter)

POV TOBY

"What time will you be home?" Dad asks.

"Uh, around nine-ish. Might be out 'til ten. Don't know for sure." I reply.

I'm going to an event tonight in which two of Elliott's paintings will be auctioned, the money will go to charity.

It's a fancy event, so I'm wearing a really nice dress that I bought last year to wear at a wedding— it's long in the back and shorter in the front, just enough for you to be able to see my heels, sleeve-less, and it's a very red-lipstick tone of red. I love it, and am excited that I'm getting to wear it for the second time.

"Alright, just be home before ten." Dad says.

"Yes sir." I kiss his cheek and he kisses my forehead, and I leave.

~

I pay the taxi driver and prepare a couple pages of yesterday's newspaper, that I found in the cab, over my head, to try not to ruin my hair with the sudden harsh rain.

It's one of those nights that you can feel something different in the air. It's a dark night, raining harshly and with thunders in the background. You can smell the rain, too; every drop. In the cab, the sound of rain hitting the panel sounding more like huge rocks being thrown at cloth, but not as loud, when you lean your head upon the window. The smell of people running back and forth, like convicted fugitives, doing whatever it takes to not get wet. And I do the same. In heels, I storm into the building where the auction will be held; it's filled with important people complaining in their phones about the rain to someone who probably doesn't care as much as they should.

The entrance is a lovely shade of black marble with thin streaks of gold, barely noticeable, and the floor is a dirty-white type of marble.

I go to the reception and ask the man in the suit and the golden name-tag where the auction will be held. "Twenty-second-floor ball-room", he says. I thank him, and put my newspaper away.

I get into the empty elevator, and as the doors start closing, I reach for my hair to see if it's still in place.

"Hold the door!" I hear, and my arm aggressively stops the elevator doors from closing.

"Ouch." I whisper to myself. That'll leave a bruise.

When I look up to see the face of the man who will ride the same elevator as I, part of me wonders if it's a vision.

His mouth, 'o' shaped, surprised. As the elevator's door begins closing again, he hurries and gets in the elevator with me.

Side by side, we look around the elevator, as if there were something interesting in it— avoiding each other, even though we're both right there. So close. So far.

"Didn't cross my mind that Elliott would've invited you." Theo says, and even though his tone is nice and gentle, his words hurt me like a knife; carving a nice and gentle heart shape on my back.

"I'm sorry. I didn't really think this through." I say.

When we get to the fourth-floor, the door opens, and a man comes in, and stands between us.

The door closes, and I stare at the little device on top of the door indicating the floors we're passing.

"You don't need to apologize. I'm sorry— that was a bit rude, wasn't it?" He asks, in a very quiet tone. "I didn't mean—" he sighs. "I'm sure Elliott will be very glad you came."

I just nod, without saying anything.

When we arrive at floor 8, the man leaves the elevator, and Theo and I are left alone once again.