The reporters continued to take pictures and fire off questions until we were safely inside.
‘Whoa,’ I gushed, once the doors closed behind us. ‘What a rush! I couldn’t see a thing through all those flashes, though.’
‘I know, right? Sunglasses vital. Ah, there he is!’
Skylar took off her Wayfarers and held her arms out as Ethan Duke came strolling towards us. He was wearing a black leather jacket over a white T-shirt and the skinniest black jeans I’d ever seen.
‘You’ve arrived! And look who you’ve brought. No tables for you to hide under this time, Flick.’ He smiled, leaning in to give me a kiss on both cheeks. He was so sophisticated, you’d think he was way older than sixteen. Plus his aftershave smelled so good, it made my brain go fuzzy.
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I don’t normally do that kind of thing.’
‘Duck under a table and then run away as the starters arrive?’
‘Yep. That.’
‘Understandable when you’re trying not to get caught breaking house arrest.’ He winked at Skylar.
I rounded on her.
‘You told him?’ I hissed, the heat rising to my cheeks.
‘It’s better than everyone thinking you dodge questions by leaping under tables!’
Ethan watched us, bemused.
A woman wearing a lanyard and holding an iPad interrupted to usher us over to a screen covered in Lewis Blume’s name, so that we could pose for the photographers. Having already been photographed, Ethan excused himself and joined a circle of incredibly beautiful people nearby. I assumed the photographers would want Skylar on her own, so I took a step back while she put a hand on her hip and looked at them over her shoulder. She looked so slick and professional.
‘And Miss Royale, if you could step forwards now?’ the woman with the iPad instructed.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, of course,’ she said, smiling. ‘There’ll be more when you’re seated, too, but if we could just get some full-length shots of you and Miss Chase, that would be great.’
‘Come on, Flick,’ Skylar said, holding out her hand.
I thought about keeping my cover for the tiniest second . . . but then a camera flashed my worries away. This. Was. Awesome. I took Skylar’s hand and eagerly stepped in line next to her, mirroring her pose with a hand on my hip.
‘You’re a natural.’ Skylar laughed as the photographers thanked us and we moved aside to let them snap the next arrivals.
‘It’s so much fun!’ I said, looking around eagerly. ‘I recognise everyone in here. Look, Ethan is talking to Marianne Montaine.’
‘Let’s go take our seats,’ Skylar said chirpily, taking a photo of the crowd and posting it online.
I followed her to the benches lining the runway and tried to act as though I did this sort of thing all the time, which was VERY difficult, especially when I spotted a reality TV star holding hands with someone who was NOT her boyfriend.
‘OMG!’ I gasped, giving Skylar’s sleeve a sharp tug and nodding my head in their direction. ‘In the last episode, she was dating that Aaron guy who owned the French Bulldog!’
‘Who? What are you talking about?’ Skylar followed my gaze but still looked confused.
‘The best show on TV! You might not get in America but basically she was hanging out with this guy, Matt, who everyone could see was all wrong for her because the only thing he talked about was his strawberry protein shakes, and then Aaron came along who was way more down to earth and . . . uh . . .’ I hesitated as Skylar stared at me blankly.
So much for playing it cool.
‘Never mind,’ I said hurriedly, flicking my hair over my shoulder and changing the subject. ‘Fashion shows are just sooo tiring.’
The lady with the iPad came over to lead us to our seats, gesturing to where our name labels were propped up next to each other on the bench.
‘Enjoy the show,’ she said brightly, hurrying off to escort everyone else to their seats.
‘The only problem with front row,’ Skylar began, sitting down and crossing her legs, ‘is that you’re constantly on show.’
‘You say that like it’s a bad thing,’ I replied, taking my place next to her and buzzing with excitement as heads turned to look at us.
‘You can’t let your guard down for a second. Trust me.’ She gave me a knowing look. ‘Someone once got a photo of me yawning and then I got a phone call from the designer the next day, asking me why I didn’t like her collection. I loved it! I was just jet-lagged but the reporters made it seem like I was bored.’
‘So, just perfect smiles the whole time.’ I grinned as a group of people sitting opposite stared across at us, whispered to each other and then began lifting up their phones to take photos. ‘That won’t be a problem today.’
‘Picture?’ a photographer said, crouching down in front of us and holding up his camera. ‘If you could just lean towards each other – that’s perfect. Thank you.’ He clicked away as I tilted my head towards Skylar and smiled. ‘Ah, excellent, and now the three of you?’
‘Three of us?’
‘Absolutely,’ came a familiar voice. Ethan sat down next to me and leaned in for the shot.
He smelled so good. And his knee was touching my knee. And his arm was warm against my arm. And he smelled so good. Did I already say that?
‘That’ll be a keeper,’ Ethan stated confidently as the photographer moved on. ‘I might get that framed.’
I laughed nervously in reply before the lights on the audience lowered and upbeat music blared from the speakers. Models began filing on to the catwalk and everyone got out their phones, probably posting updates on social media every second. I quickly took mine from my pocket and began snapping away too, not wanting to miss a moment.
Suddenly Ethan squeezed my hand, taking me by surprise and instantly making my palms all sweaty and gross. ARGH, WHY DOES SWEAT EXIST?
I should start carrying a portable fan for whenever I bump into Ethan Duke, and just permanently aim it at my palms.
As he gripped my hand, he said, ‘There he is,’ excitedly, pointing at one of the models emerging for his moment on the catwalk. It wasn’t until he was a bit closer that I realised it was Jacob – I almost didn’t recognise him with his eyes covered in black make-up and his hair dyed peroxide blond. I looked back down dreamily at Ethan’s fingers wrapped through mine and wondered whether it would be weird to take a photo of them. Just as I was trying to work out how I could take a picture of our hands without him noticing, Ethan let go to applaud his friend as he passed.
Clapping is a stupid tradition.
When the designer, Lewis Blume, came out from backstage at the end, Skylar jumped to her feet applauding and whooping, so I did the same. He bowed to the applause several times and then singled Skylar out and came over to grasp her hands in his and give her a kiss on the cheek. He disappeared backstage again and as the lights came up, everyone stood to leave, chatting about the collection and taking more photos.
‘You ready to go backstage?’ Skylar said, nodding at iPad lady who beckoned us to follow her.
‘How do you know Lewis Blume so well, Skylar?’ I asked, keeping up with her as she strode towards iPad lady, while typing rapidly into her phone.
‘He’s designed so many of my tour costumes and award-night dresses,’ she answered without looking up. ‘He practically moved in when he was in America, he designed so much of my wardrobe. He’s the king of British fashion. And you can call me Sky, you know. Skylar’s a bit formal.’
YES! WE ARE OFFICIALLY FRIENDS.
‘Right, sure. Sky,’ I said coolly, as though I hadn’t really thought about it.
We were shown backstage, where Lewis Blume was ready to greet Sky with open arms, gushing about how divine she looked, desperate to know if she liked the new collection. She enthusiastically assured him it was the best collection he’d ever done and then, after Lewis had greeted Ethan warmly, he turned his attention to me.
‘Have y
ou met Flick Royale?’ Sky began. ‘I’m staying at her mother’s beautiful hotel while I’m in the UK.’
Lewis launched into praise about the hotel and took my hand in his to kiss it, while I tried to get a word in to tell him how much I liked his show.
‘You know,’ he said, looking at me intensely. ‘Your mother is a remarkable woman. Remarkable. There’s nowhere like Hotel Royale. Nowhere in the whole world.’
‘Thank you,’ I answered, wondering whether he realised he hadn’t let go of my hand.
‘Any time you need a dress, you call me.’
‘OK.’ I beamed. ‘I will.’
‘Ah!’ he cried, releasing my hand to clap his together and taking a step back to look me up and down. ‘I would love to dress you. It is an honour to have you attend my show. Send your mother my love and tell her that I can’t wait for the Hotel Royale Christmas Ball. It is the party of the season. And tell her that if she needs a dress, she knows where to come.’
I laughed. ‘I’ll pass on the message.’
He blew us all kisses and went to greet Victoria Beckham who had come through to congratulate him. My phone went and I grimaced when I saw that it was from Audrey.
Photos of you at Lewis Blume’s show all over the Internet. Get back here asap. Your mum is on her way back from her launch. And that skirt is much too short.
I’ll ask housekeeping to lower your hem Love, Audrey xx
Is Mum really cross?
Yes. Love, Audrey xx
Will head back home now
Great. Love, Audrey xx
Btw, you don’t need to put ‘Love Audrey’ at the end of all of your messages. I know they’re from you, I have your number saved
Don’t be cheeky.
Love, Audrey xx
‘There’s an after-party if you’re interested,’ Sky told me before throwing her arms around Jacob who had made a beeline for us. I hugged him, mentioning that he was way better on the catwalk than a hamster could ever be, and then pulled Sky away to talk to her privately while Ethan stepped forwards to congratulate Jacob.
‘I have to go.’ I waved my phone screen under Sky’s nose. ‘I’ve been busted.’
Sky bit her lip. ‘Is she angry?’
‘Let’s just say I don’t think I’ll be attending any after-parties any time soon.’
‘And you’ll be ducking under many more tablecloths?’
‘Right.’ I smiled, rolling my eyes. ‘I’ll call a taxi.’
Sky nodded and turned back to Ethan, who was now standing on his own watching Jacob pose for photos with another model from the show.
‘Flick’s got to go home,’ Sky explained.
‘I can drop you if you like,’ Ethan offered quickly, his expression serious. ‘I’ve got a driver. He’ll be waiting right outside.’
‘No, you don’t need t–’
‘It’s not a problem, I’m leaving anyway.’
‘You’re not coming to the after-party?’ Sky asked, looking confused.
‘No,’ Ethan said gravely. ‘Have a good time, though. Come on, Flick, let’s get going before your mum sends out a search party.’
Sky wished me luck and Ethan put his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd. The paparazzi were still waiting outside and they leaped into action as we came out of the show, flashes going off everywhere. As it was darker now, I hadn’t thought to put my sunglasses on – so I was immediately blinded by the flashing lights. Luckily Ethan was a pro at this kind of thing, and walked in front of me so I could look down and follow his shoes as he stepped confidently through the chaotic sea of photographers. His feet stopped suddenly and a car door swung open. Ethan held it as I clambered in and then slid in next to me, slamming the door behind him. ‘Hotel Royale first, please,’ he said to the man behind the wheel, who carefully pulled the car out into the road.
I watched the reporters lower their cameras, check the shots and then launch back into a frenzy as the door of the building opened again and someone else emerged.
‘You must be used to that kind of thing.’ I smiled, fiddling with the buckle of my seat belt.
‘Not really.’
‘Isn’t that part of what you do, though? The whole being-on-camera thing?’
‘Yeah,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘It’s different when you’re not in control, though. With my vlogs, I’m in charge of what is being filmed and how it gets edited. I ask all the questions and decide on the angle. Being photographed like that, you never know what they’re going to write about you under the pictures.’
‘Better than not being written about,’ I pointed out. ‘Isn’t there that saying? Any publicity . . .’
‘Is good publicity,’ he finished. He looked down at his hands with his forehead creased. ‘I’m not so sure. You should see some of the stuff people leave in the comments on my channel. I always feel scared about what they’ll say.’
‘People say mean things?’
‘Yeah, all the time.’
I stared at him. ‘What mean thing can anyone possibly say about you?’
‘Plenty, trust me.’ He smiled weakly.
I hesitated. Ethan had been so cool and confident up until now, it was weird to see him like this. Like a normal teenager, worried about a piece of homework or something.
‘Who cares what those mean people say?’ I said firmly, attempting to be useful. ‘Your fans definitely don’t. If you need any evidence of that, then you should just come to my school sometime. No one there has anything bad to say, I can assure you.’
He laughed. ‘Is that right?’
‘Are you kidding? You’d be ambushed. You shouldn’t worry about the bad comments. You’ve done so well being yourself, you should just keep doing that.’
Urgh, could I have been more cliché? That sounded like something Cal Weston would say. What a loser.
I opened my mouth to apologise for saying something so lame but the driver suddenly announced that we were home, and I felt my stomach drop.
‘You OK?’ Ethan asked. ‘You’ve gone pale.’
‘I don’t want to go in.’ I sighed. ‘It’s been such a fun evening, I don’t want to be home.’
‘And thus, Cinderella returned from the ball,’ Ethan said dramatically, making me laugh. He flashed me a warm smile. ‘You’ll be all right.’
I nodded and was about to undo my seat belt when he put his hand gently on my arm.
‘Speaking of which, you don’t have a date to the Christmas Ball, do you?’
RUB IT IN WHY DON’T YOU. Brilliant. He clearly thinks I’m this totally undateable weird little loser, who hides under tables and says lame things like ‘be yourself ’. How embarrassing.
‘Nope. I don’t.’
‘Want to go?’
‘I have to go,’ I replied, looking at him in confusion. ‘It’s my party. Well, my mum’s.’
‘I mean, together,’ he said slowly, as though talking to a dim-witted monkey. ‘Everyone seems to be going with a date this year and I don’t have one – I was just wondering if you wanted to go together?’
‘W-w-what?’ I croaked, my mouth suddenly very dry.
‘You’re really going to make me explain it for a third time?’ he asked, raising his eyebrows.
‘No, no, course not,’ I said quickly, shaking my head. ‘That . . . er . . . that would be great.’
‘Cool. Don’t look so scared. We’re friends, right?’
‘Right. Yes. That’s right. Friends. Great, friends. I mean, “great, we’re friends”, not “great friends” because you know, obviously, we haven’t known each other that long so it would be impossible to be great friends, rather than just . . . friends.’
OH MY GOD STOP TALKING.
‘Anyway,’ I continued, ‘what I mean is . . . yes. Friends.’
‘Good. Would be pretty cool to go to the Hotel Royale Ball with a Royale.’ He smiled, making my knees go weak. I moved to get out of the car but forgot to undo my seat belt. I was jerked backwards, prompting E
than to burst out laughing.
Sure. I had to choose THAT MOMENT in front of a boy with THAT JAW who had just asked me on a DATE to completely forget the basic knowledge that a seat belt straps you into a seat. Thank goodness there were no reporters lurking around the hotel.
No one can ever know that happened.
I quickly unclipped the seat belt and clambered out on to the pavement.
‘Hey,’ he said, leaning over the back seat on to his elbow to peer up at me. ‘It was really nice talking to you. There aren’t many people I feel I can open up to. And I’ve never met anyone so adept with a seat belt before.’
‘If you’re not careful, I might be the one who starts writing mean comments on your vlogs.’
He grinned. ‘See you around, Flick.’
I shut the door and the car drove off, leaving me standing outside the main door. I was about to be in big trouble but I couldn’t stop smiling.
‘Evening, Miss Royale,’ the doorman said, as I walked up the steps. ‘Good night?’
‘The best,’ I replied, before going through the revolving door where Mum was waiting for me.
OMG OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG OMG
OMG OMG OMG OMG
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Hi Grace
WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?
Tell you what?
SKYLAR CHASE AND ETHAN
DUKE!!!! WHAT IS
HAPPENINGGGGGGGGGG?
Secrets of a Teenage Heiress Page 9