No Such Thing

Chapter 8

Playlist:
Mind Over Matter - Young The Giant
Magic - Coldplay
You & I - Crush

Camera flashes are going off all over the place. I'll be legally blind by the end of the night. Ryder is within arm's reach but he feels a mile away in his navy blue Dior suit. He's all smiles greeting everyone as he makes his way towards the red carpet. I'm all for being in front of cameras but this is overwhelming. I find a lonely corner away from the congestion to stand in. I never should've come here. I'm not a people person. Why did I get myself into this? "Are you alright?" His hot breath in my ear sets my spine ablaze. I have no idea how Ryder could come up behind me that fast. Composure, Stella. Keep your composure. "I don't know anyone and I didn't wanna drag you away." "Here come with me we'll go inside now." He places his hand at the small of my back, guiding me to the carpet. And there we were posing together. I put on my best diva face for the photographers as we stop and walk and stop and pose. "Wait those pictures are gonna be everywhere of... Us." "Good. Give the world something to talk about." His smile doesn't help my uneasiness. Pictures of him and I all over the Internet, not to mention every tabloid out there. I can see the headlines on E! already, "Ryder Wells's latest plaything." I think I'm gonna be sick. "You look amazing. Don't worry." "I don't feel amazing." "No one can take their eyes off of you. You're the Cinderella of the ball tonight." We're already inside the venue of the awards and he wasn't kidding. Everyone and their mother was looking at us. I heard a few gasps and was witness to many wide-eyed gazes, all of absolute confusion, I'm sure. "Vicky-Vince!" We reach what I assume to be our table as Ryder hugs a tall, dark, handsome guy who is accompanied by Carmen. They could pass for siblings easily. "See if I do that with your name you'll sound like a loaf of bread, that's not fair." Carmen leans over to give him and I each kisses on the cheek and another guy gets up from our table. "Marciano how you doing man? Keeping Vince in line, huh?" More bro hugs. "You know it. No trouble from him while I'm around." By the possessive waist grab and affectionate nudges I can tell Vince and the buff blonde Italian named Marciano are an item. A good looking one too. "Oh my god. Let me not be a dick. This is my Stella." My? What the fuck am I, a Pomeranian? "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Bellisima bambina." Marciano lifts my hand to press his lips to it. "I can't help being a tad jealous seeing as he's entirely correct. Do you model?" "Yes I do actually. Nothing serious, you know. Here and there." "Why are you being so modest? She just closed Lanvin the other night." I'm not one to brag, but if he wants to do me the honors I won't complain. "Modest is right. That's fantastic. Let's all sit down. We probably look like a bunch of flamingos, all legs, all talk." I like these two. Ryder pulls out my chair for me and as I take my seat the group is staring at the gesture very intrigued. Shortly after, an attendant fills the table's glasses to the top with champagne. Thank god. I need a drink.

We have to be the worst awards attendees on the face of the planet. The entire time we've gotten so shitfaced. Every five seconds one of us bursts out laughing at absolutely nothing and one by one we all join in. We got shushed by just about every table around us and we couldn't care less.

"Hey there's an after party at the Hadids, you guys interested?" Carmen informed us all as we were exiting the joint. I'm surprised we didn't get kicked out. "Fuck yeah let's go. I'm ready to go. Let's fucking go there." Plastered. I was incredibly plastered. Ryder caught me as I wobbled over. "Oh no no. I'm taking her home. She'll find me and slit my throat tomorrow if I let her do anything else tonight." Party pooper. "Aw well call us tomorrow, bro. It was nice meeting you Stella. Ciao, get her some espresso." "Don't be silly, that girl needs a beer." "Thank you for the great suggestions, but I think what she needs is a bed." Oh. Ryder pulls me into a cab as his friends whistle and holler at his misinterpreted comment.

*Ryder's POV*

Her laughter filled the entire apartment complex. I've never seen someone look so graceful, while completely unable to walk straight. She was like a drunken ballerina, swaying and tip-toeing up the staircase. We were back at her doorstep and she was fumbling through her purse trying to retrieve her keys and failing miserably. I offered her my sober and steady hands. I pulled them out within seconds and softly pushed her through the doorway. She skipped into her bedroom giggling like a toddler and plunged into her bed. I followed her and rested against the entrance, taking the scene in. Her hair was all tousled and she wiped most of her lipstick off so her lips were a bit swollen. The silken dress was still intact but it held a different appeal than the elegance of earlier. I'm not used to seeing her so haphazardly put together. She looked wild and guard-free. It was nice for a change. "Do you have any cigarettes in those wealthy pockets of yours?" That giggle is driving me insane. She's kicking off her heels without taking her shiny blue eyes off me. It's like the devil is staring me right in the face tempting me to take a trip down to hell. "I don't smoke. And I wasn't aware that you did?" "I used to. Still do occasionally. I wanna get out of this dress! Untie me." She scoots toward the end of the bed and sits with her back to me. Gesturing for me to assist her. Not good. I walk over and begin untying the thin straps in the back. "I like your friends." "They like you too." "Hmm." It was a pleasant hmm. They truly did enjoy her company which I totally expected. I backed up when I finished and she started shrugging out of the dress without hesitation. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Her shoulder blades tensed as they slid out of the fabric, threatening to puncture my lungs. "Uh do you want a shirt or something?" Please for the love of God put on a shirt before I have a coronary. "Get me one out of that drawer over there. I won't tempt you anymore." She giggles and I almost swallow my tongue. I rush to the drawer she points out and pull the first oversized white shirt I find and toss it to her. The second she pulls it over her head I feel relief wash over me. "Come here." She pats the space next to her. It's like a whole other side of her. "I'm kinda in a suit." "Well take it off." Her thin filter has completely vanished with the aid of a dozen glasses of champagne. I strip down to my boxers while she watches me. Not in a sexual way. Just watching. I ease onto her bed and she props herself up on her elbow to face me. I do the same. "I don't get you." "What do you mean?" "A big shot like you hanging out with me. You keep coming back and I don't get it. It's nice, but it's not real." "Not real?" "We don't have a happy ending. Any moment now you'll come to your senses and question why the hell you're around me in the first place and you'll go back to your ratpack and find some plastic heiress your parents adore to follow around. This isn't real. We aren't real. No matter if I want it to be or not." "But-" "Shhhhh. I don't wanna hear it. I'm gonna enjoy it for now. Cause you'll be gone in the morning, and I won't remember a thing. Just like it should be." I can't believe she's saying all of this. Is this how she really feels? "What is this?" She places a finger over the tattoo that rests along my collarbone. "It's stupid." "It doesn't matter. Tell me." "It's the day River Phoenix died." Her eyes are still focused on my chest but the corners of her mouth turn south. "I love him, but why a tattoo?" "He's basically my idol. The way he was so into saving the world. Interested in people and cultures everywhere. Standing up for animals and women and just anyone who couldn't always speak for themselves. He had all these aspirations and dreams that he never got the chance to fulfill. I guess the ink is a reminder that you have to do all you can before your time is suddenly up." I look back expecting her to respond, but she was fast asleep. If there was ever a moment where I wished I was someone else, anyone else, this was it. If I wasn't Ryder Wells, the Ryder Wells on the front page of every stupid tabloid, Ryder Wells with my name in everyone's mouth, she would be mine. And this intoxicated confession of hers has me thinking, will she ever be?