Spotlight on Nobody

- 27 -

~ song: Pink Lemonade by James Bay ~

Beads of sweat are forging pathways down my neck, slipping all the way down my back. Fortunately, I am no longer in my ballgown; not only would I not want to ruin it with sweat stains, but I would also likely pass out from heat exhaustion if I had to wear multiple pounds of silk while on this dance floor.

Apparently one party isn't enough for everyone. Actually, most stars of today consider the Met Gala a work function. So here I am, at The Top of the Standard, at an afterparty hosted by freaking Idris Elba, drinking a lot and dancing even more – shocker, no one cares about underage drinking when you have enough money to buy off the entire NYPD.

After the Met, I was equal parts surprised and relieved to find Anais in our hotel room, a mini dress seemingly woven of gold dangling from her hand, and a pink silk t-shirt and matching pink slacks for Leo in her other hand. My favorite part, however, was that "I'm with Nobody" was spelled in peach silk applique down the side of my dress, and "Nell's Date" was embroidered across Leo's chest. It was the exact opposite of our Met Gala look, and I loved it just as much (okay, maybe a tad more since now I was in the position of power).

Earlier in the night, after Anais had put the finishing touches on my Met look, I went out on the terrace for her to take pictures of me. I mean, silk designer dress with the backdrop of the NYC skyline during golden hour? The pictures practically took themselves. She then got Leo so we could take couples pictures – wow, I'm still not used to the fact that we are a couple. When he came outside, my breath caught in my throat.

He was dressed in the most beautifully fitted suit I have ever seen, and that's saying something, since I'm pretty sure all of his suits are custom made. Upon first glance, he was glowing like some ethereal being, but then I realized that Anais had woven the same golden thread she used to embroider my dress throughout his ebony suit, making him literally shine. I wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, or at the very least compliment Anais for such a job well done, but he had quite literally taken my breath away. All I could do was stand there frozen until, with a few quick strides, he was standing in front of me.

"I'm so sorry," were the first words he whispered quietly to me.

"Why are you sorry?" I asked confused, after having managed to take my first breath since he arrived on the terrace.

"I hate that you're covered in such ugly words. I hate that people said these things about you. It's my fault." I cut him off before he could continue.

"I don't," I said simply. "These past few weeks, I've felt nothing like me. I've felt small, and worthless, and ugly because of what the whole world was saying about me. The only times I feel beautiful are when I'm with you," I smile at him, resting my hand on his chest. "Which is ironic, since being with you is why people have been saying such cruel things. But I'm sick of feeling like shit just because I'm dating you, since when I'm actually with you, I feel nothing but happiness. It's time the world saw just how little I care about what they think, and how much I care about you."

Turning back at his style crew who were lined up at the entry to the terrace, he asked Yuri: "how good is this lipstick?"

"It can withstand anything," she replied with a smile.

So Leo kissed me and it was unlike any kiss we shared. It was soft and sweet, and felt like pure gold.

He pulled back and smiled at me. "Because you're taking all of this so well, I hope you can find humor in my suit," Leo said as he spun around, revealing the silk appliqué on his back which reads 'I'm with Nobody.'

The laugh I bellowed at that moment rings in my ears as I spin on the dancefloor. Alice found us the minute we arrived at the Gala and hasn't left my side ever since, a protective gleam in her eye every time she looks at me. She made sure we got a good hundred or so photos on the red carpet together, putting our posing practice to good use, and even offered to pick Leo and I up at our hotel. Apparently, Alice is opposed to the idea of other people driving her around. After seeing her Tesla Roadster, I suppose I can understand the joy of driving yourself, if your car is literally worth more than a house.

Leo is at the edge of the dancefloor, talking to someone who has an uncanny resemblance to Dylan O'Brien. Occasionally his eyes flit to me and we share a smile. I can tell he's happy that I've began to fit into his world. I think it reassures him, makes him feel like he made the right decision going public with me, that he didn't completely ruin my life. The fact that he could think, even for a second, that any part of him would be detrimental to my existence blows my mind. Objectively, the facts point to it, a small part of my brain whispers, but not loud enough to be heard over the music thrumming through the speakers.

Million-dollar, star-studded afterparties are strangely similar to the house parties I occasionally attend on campus. For one, there is a lot of free alcohol, though the difference being here each drink is worth at least 50 bucks, whereas at school I'm stuck drinking some vomit-inducing fruit punch concoction. And yet, the sweaty bodies on the dance floor and obscene grinding, camera phones flashing, small groups huddled in corners for impromptu gossip sessions – if it wasn't for the Manhattan skyline backdrop and the dresses worth a college tuition, it would almost feel like a frat party.

Alice has been introducing me to various people we bump into on the dance floor. "This is Nell Greene," she says, as I shake hands or hug whoever she brings me to. I like that she doesn't explain any further, doesn't say "Leo Griffiths date" when they look at me with a puzzled expression. And I don't say anything either. I'm done feeling as though I owe the world an explanation, the excuse they are all waiting for to explain how exactly a nobody like me managed to snag Leo Griffiths. Fuck that. Though I myself am also unsure how it all happened, I won't admit that to all these strangers.

Suddenly I see Alice's eyes narrow, and she yanks me quite rudely away from Camilla Cabello, which is really a pity because she was the most down-to-earth person I've talked to all night. I'm pulled through the center of the dance floor, past sweaty bodies of famous people. I think about how when fans meet celebrities, they say things like "Oh my god, Nick Jonas touched my hand, I am never washing it!" Well, if they brushed by Nick Jonas' sweaty body, and 30 other ones, I'm thinking they would change their minds. I certainly could use a shower, judging from the way my dress is sticking to my body more tightly than before, and the hair I feel plastered against my damp neck.

I am ripped out of my sweat-filled reverie when Alice abruptly stops at the edge of the dancefloor, right in front of Leo. My eyes instantly find his, and I see something unfamiliar there. Is it pain? Warning? I can't tell.

My gaze shifts to the devastatingly beautiful red head standing a bit too close to Leo for my liking. She's draped in a dusty blue sheer dress, which floats around her perfect figure. When she manages to break her eyes away from Leo and turn to the new arrivals, I can see her eyes are the same color of her dress, a cold, piercing blue which becomes all the more threatening when they narrow ever so slightly upon recognizing me. However, in the blink of an eye, her face contorts into a smile.

"Alice!" She shrieks excitedly, grinning like a harpy. "I haven't seen you in ages! How long has it been?" She's met with a look that could freeze a volcano. I've never seen this side of Alice, and somehow the features that make her so beautiful extenuate her anger in a terrifying way.

"Hmm let's see, I think the last time I saw you I broke your fake fucking nose? Six months ago, was it?" Alice says in the most sarcastic voice I have ever heard. I know she's a model, but damn she should really try acting. Unless... this isn't acting? Is it possible to hate someone with such an intensity?

Wait, six months ago. Alice hates her. She's staring at Leo like he's a piece of meat she brought home for a Sunday roast. Hold up, is this –

"Ingrid Orchid," she says, extending her hand to me like I've just met the Queen of Hearts.