“I know,” Ellie said pensively. The thought of the red carpet made her heart beat a little faster.
“Do you want to come with or would you rather skip it and meet me inside?” he asked. Usually, Ellie would always walk into events like this with Hunter, but she didn’t love the idea of facing a hungry pack of photographers and reporters all eager to get the first post-scandal comment from her. Then again, Ellie also didn’t love the image of slinking around the back like she had something to hide.
“No, I’ll do it,” she said, then furrowed her brow. “Wait—unless you don’t want me to…” Was that what he had been trying to say?
“Elle, of course I want you to. I was saying if you didn’t want to, then I understand.”
“Oh. Right. Okay.” Ellie hoped the thin layer of discomfort that surrounded them since they got in the car would evaporate by the end of the night. They just needed to get back into their usual effortless rhythm.
They reached the ballroom foyer, bypassing the check-in table as a statuesque girl with a slick ice-blond bob and a stunning ice-blue gown approached them.
“They’re all set for you, Hunter,” she said.
“Great, thanks,” Hunter replied, turning to introduce her to Ellie. “Michelle goes to Sidwell. She’s our press liaison for the event. And Michelle, this is my girlfriend, Ellie.”
“Oh, of course,” Michelle said, her voice hitching slightly. Clearly, she had seen the photo. But if it bothered Hunter, he showed no sign of it.
Michelle led them to the beginning of the press line at the ballroom entrance, where no less than fifty different photographers and reporters stood behind a black velvet rope, their cameras and microphones directed toward the guests walking along the red carpet. Ellie could see Brinley and Brooks already toward the end of the line, Brinley getting more attention than usual as she fielded questions about her “struggles” with ADD. But it paled in comparison to the star treatment Jenny Lim was getting from the press a few feet ahead of her.
Suddenly, Ellie heard Michelle announcing their names to the head P.R. girl. “Hunter McKnight and Ellie Walker.”
“Here we go,” Hunter said, leading her forward. As the cameras began to light up, the familiar Jackie O. feeling bubbled up in Ellie’s stomach as she nervously tugged on her silver sequin dress. If everyone had looked at her like she didn’t deserve to be with Hunter McKnight before this whole scandal had erupted, she could only imagine what they thought now. But somehow, after everything she had gone through in the last week, it just didn’t seem to matter as much. If feeling slightly inadequate was the one semi-negative of being with Hunter, she’d take it. She leaned in closer to him and they caught eyes. Ellie’s entire body relaxed at the sight of his reassuring smile.
Michelle led them farther down to where the usual pool of D.C. reporters was lined up, all eager for a quote or sound bite before their evening deadlines. The first one, who Ellie recognized as one of the social editors for Washington Life magazine, stuck his recorder out quickest.
“Miss Walker, do you have a comment on the photo that surfaced last week—”
Ellie felt the bile rise to her throat, but before she even had to say anything, Hunter came to her rescue.
“No,” he said, looking at the reporter intensely. “My girlfriend and I don’t have any comment on that.” He kept his gaze on the reporter for a split second longer, almost daring him to say something more. The reporter remained silent. Ellie couldn’t have loved Hunter anymore in that moment.
“Now,” Hunter went on, “if you have a question about Follow the Stars or the Make-A-Wish foundation we’re fundraising for, I’m more than happy to answer. Because all the money we’re making through the ticket sales and silent auction items tonight will go straight to creating one-of-a-kind experiences for children undergoing the most difficult medical treatments for life threatening diseases…”
Ellie caught the reporter flicking his eyes to the left, toward what sounded like a huge commotion coming from the entryway. Ellie refused to look, keeping her attention focused on Hunter. She loved how passionate he was about this.
“It’s not only a dream come true for these kids, but from what I’ve seen, is that these experiences actually bring them hope, too…”
The reporter flicked his eyes to the left again. The clicking of cameras and the popping light of flashbulbs had reached almost epic levels. Who had arrived that everyone would be making such a big fuss over?
Ellie couldn’t take the suspense anymore. She finally turned her head toward the front of the line. And there, she saw Taryn Reyes dressed in a full Marilyn Monroe outfit, including the blond wig and the mole. Clearly, no one had filled her in that dressing in the “stars” theme didn’t mean dressing like a movie star.
***
It had taken about a half a second for Taryn to realize her mistake. She had thought she was following the theme by dressing up as a movie star, but from the attire all the girls were wearing, it seemed the theme had something more to do with wearing sparkly, shimmering dresses in metallic hues. Oops. She realized in an instant that this was what Brooks had been trying to tell her earlier when she ran into him at the dry cleaners.
But before Taryn could make a quick escape to the ladies room or even turn around, the horde of photographers were already snapping away. And Taryn let her instincts kick in…and gave them a huge smile. She had meant everything she had said to Brooks that afternoon about not wanting to conform to the G.A. mold. And now she was putting her money where her mouth was.
Taryn moved down the press line slowly, letting all the photographers get as many shots as they wanted. A reporter finally called out to her, “What’s with the outfit?”
Taryn looked him in the eye. “I figured this party needed a little theme change-up,” she said with a feisty smile.
“Good call,” he responded with a wink, and Taryn’s confidence surged even more.
An hour later, Taryn was still working the press line. She was desperate to actually join the party, but she didn’t want to be rude. Especially with all the reporters being so kind toward her.
“…you bring such a breath of fresh air to the D.C. scene,” gushed the final reporter, an overly aggressive woman who caressed Taryn’s back as she spoke like they had been best friends for the last ten years.
“Thank you so much.” She tried to do the “smile and move on” trick, but the woman grabbed her hand and leaned in so close that Taryn could smell the faded Listerine she must have chugged before arriving.
“Some people are already saying they should permanently change the theme of the party–”
“Excuse me,” a guy’s voice cut in. Taryn looked up to see Gabe Mills, in a black tux, his tie rakishly askew, standing at her side.
“Taryn’s needed inside right now,” he said to the reporter, already taking Taryn’s arm.
Taryn smiled apologetically at the reporter. “Sorry, great chatting with you!”
Gabe led her through the stunning main ballroom, the four crystal cascade chandeliers bathing the room’s hundreds of guests in a soft golden glow, and out the French doors to the Astor Terrace, an intimate patio surrounded by lush greenery. It was a little quieter out here, the chilly night air perfectly tempered by the plethora of heaters.
“Thanks for saving me,” Taryn said to him, once they were situated at a cocktail table.
Gabe shrugged. “I figured if I waited one more minute, that woman would have been giving you mouth-to-mouth.”
Taryn laughed. “Totally. It would have completely ruined my look,” she said, pursing her red lips.
“I like it,” Gabe said, slowly surveying her outfit in a way that made Taryn almost blush. “You look good as a blond.”
“Thanks,” Taryn said, just as she caught sight of Ellie and Hunter through the glass French doors, making their way to their table. Interesting.
“Looks like Ellie and Hunter are here together,” she noted, attempting to gauge his reaction as
she said it. “I guess they made up?”
“Yeah, I saw that,” Gabe replied, poker faced. He paused for a beat before asking, “Are you okay with that?”
“Am I okay with it?”
“Yeah, I know how obsessed a lot of girls at this school are with him.” He raised an eyebrow at her and Taryn couldn’t help but laugh again.
“Nah.” She gave him a flirty smile. “I like my guys a little edgier.”
Gabe’s lips curled up into a smile. It was so on.
***
“Oh my god! It’s getting worse!” Brinley hissed, her eyes glued to the site she was browsing on her phone.
“What’s getting worse?” Brooks asked, his tone inexplicably bored. This was a catastrophe and he was acting like it was just another run-of-the-mill Follow the Stars party.
“Taryn and her nouveau Marilyn alter-ego are all over every blog already!” Brinley opened another site on her phone, then inhaled sharply. “D.C. Dish is saying the board is planning on re-theming the party next year! This ignorant moron blogging behind her crappy Dell is claiming ‘it’s a great move away from the tired sequined dresses’ and we ‘need a refreshing change like Ms. Reyes.’ This loser writer who has probably never even been invited to a party and gets her clothes from a thrift shop that passes itself off as a ‘vintage’ boutique is attacking my wardrobe choices!” Brinley was suddenly dizzy and steadied herself on the gold Chiavari chair in front of her.
“She’s not personally attacking you, Brin,” Brooks said, still barely interested in the conversation and taking a quick swig from the flask in his tuxedo pocket.
And then, as if she wanted to rub it all in Brinley’s face even more, Taryn waltzed in from the terrace, chattering her head off with that little troll, Gabe.
“If we lose that Washington Life spread again over this, so help me, I will—”
“Brinley, you’ve got to get over it,” Brooks said to her with an edge in his voice, though he was looking at Taryn as he said it. A gaggle of girls walked by and not very subtly checked him out with excited whispers, but Brooks didn’t even register it.
Brinley’s phone dinged with a text. She read it and groaned.
“Another story about Taryn?” he asked.
“No. I’ve been having Sarah Corliss do some investigating as to who leaked that photo of Ellie and Gabe at the rookie party. She’s proving pretty useless. Another dead end.”
Brooks was staring at her like a two-headed cat.
“What?” she asked, self-consciously.
“I thought you knew.”
She folded her arms across her chest. “Knew what?”
Brooks gave her a pitying look like he did not relish whatever he was about to say to her. “Jenny Lim took that photo.” Brinley stiffened with anger. She saw Jenny cackling about something with Thatcher Wellington at a cocktail table in the corner of the room. She started to march over, ready to expose Jenny to everyone at the party for the conniving liar that she was when Brooks grabbed her arm.
“Wait. She showed it to her father who brought it to Dad...” Brinley stopped short and looked up at him, begging him with her eyes not to finish the sentence, but he did anyway. “And Dad was the one who leaked it.”
Brinley’s heart sank. This entire time the evil person who had destroyed Ellie’s life was her own father.
“Sorry, Brin. I know it puts you in a tough position.” What he wasn’t saying was that family came first and she was a Madison. She could not breathe a word of this to Ellie.
The opening notes of “Wonderful Tonight” filled the speakers around the room.
Brooks shuddered. “Really? Eric Clapton? Could they not have come up with an acceptable song by an American singer?”
“Excuse me. I need some water,” Brinley murmured out of the side of her mouth.
As soon as she stepped forward, blood rushed to her head, but she kept moving. She didn’t always tell Ellie everything, but how was she supposed to keep something like this from her? Little blue spots dotted the air in front of her, but she blinked them away until her vision was semi-clear again.
She weaved her way through a few round tables positioned on the perimeter of the dance floor, almost tripping over her long, shimmering navy dress. She glanced at Ellie, her arms draped over Hunter during the slow song, indulging in a rare moment of PDA. Brinley’s one saving grace was that now that Ellie and Hunter were back together, maybe she wouldn’t care who leaked the photograph. She had told Brinley the story of their reconciliation during the four-course meal they had to sit through earlier and Ellie seemed to be on the windy road back to her old self.
The dizziness returned with another surge of exhaustion. She needed water. A nice cool glass of Pellegrino. The thought of it made her throat tighten and little sweat beads pop up, lining the top of her forehead. Joseph had better have prepared for her hair to handle a little perspiration because she did not want to end up looking like some sweaty hipster who’d spent too many hours at a rave.
She suddenly caught sight of Graham on the dance floor and instinctively turned her head away. He was mauling some intern, practically eating her face off like a cannibal. As much as she hated watching it, maybe she should just consider herself lucky that she got out of that relationship with her nose still intact.
As she skirted the edge of the dance floor, trying to distance herself as far away as possible from Graham, she practically ran into Evan Harnett and Luke Jensen, who just kept on making out like they weren’t blocking a pathway for the rest of the party. Tacky.
This room was way too hot. Someone should seriously open up a window. Were they trying to suffocate everyone? This had to be some kind of fire hazard. The sweat beads turned into full on drops as they trickled down her hairline and past her temple. Water. Now. The bar loomed in the corner of the room, mocking her with its distance. With the amount they were paying for this ballroom, someone really could have splurged on two bars. Was that really even a bar? It looked like it was spinning.
Brinley tried to swallow, but her throat clamped shut and refused to budge. She wanted to shout to someone, but everyone around her looked so fuzzy she couldn’t even tell if they were real. And she couldn’t figure out why they were all moving so slowly.
And then miraculously, everything felt better because the whole world went dark.
***
Evan was mid-kiss with Luke when she heard the commotion a few feet away. They pulled away from each other for what seemed like the first time in an hour. Luke had insisted they sell their relationship as much as possible in front of the press, especially if other news outlets were looking into the story of his sexuality. This basically involved them kissing so much that they had barely said two words to each other since Luke pulled the car up to the valet.
“It’s Brinley Madison. Looks like she fainted or something,” Luke said, tall enough to see over the crowd and into the action.
Evan had been avoiding Ellie all night so that she didn’t have to hear a recap of her and Hunter’s happy reunion, but she now forced herself to look over to the spot where Ellie and Hunter had been closely dancing. Ellie had just separated from him and rushed over to Brinley, who lay in a heap on the floor, but finally seemed to be coming to.
No offense to Brinley, but Evan was having her own breakdown. The Ellie/Hunter reconciliation was killing her for so many different reasons. If she hadn’t had to carry on this ridiculous fake relationship with Luke, she could be the one with her arms around Hunter. But was that really true? Even if Hunter hadn’t stopped kissing her last night because of Luke, Evan would have eventually come to her senses and wouldn’t have been able to throw away her friendship with Ellie again. Not to mention that just because Hunter kissed her in a moment of vulnerability, it didn’t necessarily mean he wanted to be with her. The familiar feelings of self-doubt suddenly stabbed at her like needles on a cactus. He still probably would have gone back to Ellie. Evan turned away. The whole mess made her either want to scream
or cry.
“Hey, do you want to go outside while the drama dies down?” Luke asked.
“Yes,” Evan quickly replied. Being in the same room as Ellie and Hunter felt like her own personal Shawshank.
As soon as they stepped on to the heated candlelit terrace, though, Luke immediately tried to steer them back into the ballroom.
“Luke, what are you—?” Evan’s question was interrupted by a handsome, muscular blond guy whose hair was parted in a way that was probably supposed to be ironically retro. His brown eyes narrowed at Luke from behind his trendy square black-framed glasses.
“Looks like you’ve grown a beard since I saw you last,” he said with an eyebrow raise.
Luke tried to play it cool. “Evan, this is Chris. He goes to GDS.” He said that last part pointedly, but Evan could already tell from Luke’s body language and voice that this was the source who had outed him. Evan hated Chris instantly.
Chris moved closer to Luke’s ear, but Evan had no problem hearing his self-righteous voice. “You can’t keep this up forever. It’s going to come out whether you want it to or not.”
Luke clenched his jaw, fighting back a response. Or a punch to this guy’s face.
“I’m sure your Mormon buddies can explain that quote to you from the Bible,” Chris continued. “What is it exactly? Something like, the truth will set you free? If your dad is going to spend his entire career proclaiming how awful we all are, he should know exactly who he’s talking about.” He smirked, then walked back toward his GDS posse, a group of guys and girls who were sneaking joints back and forth in their skinny ties and sequined fedoras.
“Are you okay?” Evan asked Luke. He had looked tough a moment ago, but now his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I knew he was angry when I broke things off, but I never thought he’d pull something like this,” Luke said dejectedly. “I’ll be right back. I just need a sec,” he said, his voice barely audible.
“Do you want me to come with—?”
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