I'm nervous. I shouldn't be. I've been on plenty of dates, I've been to plenty of benefits and galas and exhibits. But somehow, this one feels different. I've been a mess for days over this. Emma came over earlier to help me get dressed. She's never been too good at makeup, eyeshadow and Emma are sworn enemies but she's a whiz with hair. The best I can do is unruly curls, half of which don't last more than a few hours but she's somehow gotten my troublesome hair to flow in silky golden waves down my back. There are little braids woven in set with threads of gold- I'm not even sure where she got those- that catch the light. I've never had to learn how to do that on my own, mom always styled my hair. My throat aches a little with unshed tears. It's times like this that I miss her the most. In moments where I expect her to step in and fix the mess I've made. Except, she can't do that anymore. She'll never do that again. Now Emma's taken over, she did a great job, my hair looks terrific. Far better than anything I could've done. She's even matched the gold threads in my hair to the gold chains that hold the plunging neckline of my dress together. It all works really well with this particular shade of red.
The elevator doors open and I'm immediately assaulted by bright lights, tinkling laughter and light music. There are so many people. These events always stress me out. My palms are sweaty and I hear how my heart beat stutters and speeds, the chaotic rhythm does nothing to soothe me. I make my way through the crowd, toward the bar where I told Connor I'd meet him.
After Monday, we exchanged numbers so that I could give him details about today. We've texted a bit, nothing much. But it's often enough that I feel a little more at ease with the idea of being here with him. He's still a stranger, a very good looking mysterious stranger but I've at least had more than one conversation with him now.
I spot him almost immediately. He'd be hard to miss, standing a good head above the rest of the crowd with a shock of white blond hair. I walk over and he catches sight of me. When I'm close enough to hear him he opens his mouth and closes it again. For a second I'm confused. Is something wrong?
"Wow, I- wow, just wow." He says and I blush, he gives me an appreciative once over and I don't mind it too much.
"That ones a real poet, huh?" comes a lazy drawl from behind Connor. We both turn to the intruder as he says, "You should keep this one." It's Dastan. He's leaning against the bar in a black suit much the same as the one Connor is wearing. He exudes a sense of confidence that's captivating. I just stare at him dumbly as he drums his fingers against the countertop. I watch as his fingers keep moving, he's got a black band on his thumb that catches the light reflecting it back as a rainbow of color.
He looks me over, distain clouding his obsidian eyes. "You planning on making an introduction or did you forget?" he sneers. God he needs new jokes, that one's getting old.
Right. I shake my head and attempt to get my bearings. "This is Connor," I say to him in a tight voice, I catch the slight narrowing of his eyes. He's probably putting the pieces together. Figuring out this is the same guy we spoke about at dinner last week. "Connor, This is Dastan," I hesitate. "Uhm… Haider's son." I add on. Both of them pick up on my hesitation. I'm not sure what Connor thinks of it but Dastan is very clearly amused. He's got this infuriating little smirk on stupid face.
"Where's Anne?" I interrupt just as he opens his mouth to say something. No doubt insulting or derogatory. He waves his hand in a circular gesture near his head.
"Around here somewhere…" looking around nonchalantly, he gives a little shrug of his impossibly large shoulders. "I'm not her babysitter." God, when did he turn into such an ass.
"Shouldn't you at least know where your girlfriend is?" it's a pointless question. This version of Dastan doesn't seem to care much about trivial things like relationships. I know I'm not going to get a positive answer out of him but as long as we're not exposing more embarrassing facts to Connor I'm fine with it.
"Shouldn't you mind your own business?" he shoots right back, leaning forward to rest his elbows against the wooden bar. His jacket pulls tighter across his chest and I notice the little hint of shimmer patterned into the fabric.
Rolling my eyes heaven-ward, I say; "Do you always have to be so difficult?"
"Do you always have to be so annoying?"
The absolute nerve of him. I was just trying to be civil and friendly and maybe avoid losing whatever little shred of dignity I've managed to keep a chokehold on. I catch a flash of deep purple in my peripheral vision and turn to find Anne sidling up to our little group.
"Hey," she says wearily. Her eyes are guarded, there's a tension to her shoulders that has my spine straightening a little. Weird. She's been friendly the last few times I've seen her. I don't think I've done anything to upset her, at least nothing I'm aware of. I offer her a smile.
Then I catch it, it's subtle. A movement so small I might've missed it had I not been paying attention. But it's there, the slight darting of her eyes from Dastan to me and then back again.
All at once it hits me, the way Dastan's casually leaning against the bar, the ease with which we're shooting rapid fire responses at each other. To someone who didn't hear what we were saying it would look entirely too friendly. Especially, with the sarcastic smirk pulling at the left corner of Dastan's mouth and the playful arch of his brow.
That's ridiculous. She knows he hates me. She's seen proof of that. Plus, I came here with Connor. I look to Connor, just to be sure, he's just watching us. There's nothing in his face that says he might be upset or uncomfortable.
I get the basic introductions out of the way for propriety's sake, but my mind is now floating on a completely different current. Why would Anne be insecure about me being around Dastan? Have I done something to make her think I might be interested or that I might try to move in on her relationship?
No. I don't think I have. But then I just don't understand why she'd suddenly think that I was a threat to her relationship.
Anne and Connor start a conversation while I offer minimal input from the sidelines. I keep watching Anne. She looks stunning. Her auburn hair is in some kind of elegant knot at the base of her neck and she's wearing a flowing deep purple gown with silver stones decorating the neckline and straps that wrap around her neck. She's outdone herself. If I thought she was beautiful the first time we met, she looks magnificent now. She looks like a princess.
Dastan's not even sparing her a glance. He's still leaning against the bar, with a glass of some kind of amber liquid in a short rounded type of glass. He twirls the glass on the counter and idly taps a rhythm with the ring on his thumb. His hair is styled so it's brushed upward and back, it's taken on a tone of blue under the blinding lights in the ballroom. The same shade of blue dust that's patterned into his jacket. It's beautiful. He's beautiful.
That thought hits me like bus. What am I thinking? Turning my attention back to Connor and Anne, I have no idea what they're talking about. I spend a few minutes trying to catch on but I'm too distracted, too strung out I need to get far away from Dastan.
"I wanna go find Haider real quick," I inform them. They give me a weird look probably because I just butted into the middle of whatever conversation they were just having but they don't argue. Connor and I head off in the opposite direction just as Anne turns to Dastan with a gorgeous smile. He gives her the most bored look I've ever seen. What is wrong with him?
His behavior doesn't get any better for the rest of the night. In fact, I'm pretty certain it gets worse. It's like the longer we're in his presence the more hostile he gets. Connor didn't say much about our first interaction, outside of the fact that he doesn't think he's made a good impression on either man of the Haider family, but I'm starting to get the distinct feeling that he's upset.
Every time Dastan makes a snarky little remark about me, passes some asinine comment, or is outright rude I see Connors shoulders tense. He might have picked up on the animosity between us or maybe, like Anne, he's reading more into it than there is.
At one point, Anne tells Dastan she wants to dance and he flat out refuses her. He just says no with the straightest, most expressionless face I've ever seen. Her face falls. It's tragic and my heart breaks for her a little. No girl deserves to be treated like this, I can't believe what I'm seeing. Connor ends up taking her out on the dance floor while the rest of us just stand around making awkward small talk.
It's the kind of stilted conversation you have with people you've seen periodically but not enough to actually know. Which seems accurate considering these are all work friends of Haider's. I loose track of Dastan but I think the further away he is the better. My hands itch with the urge to slap some sense into him. I don't know what he thinks he's doing but his behavior is disgusting.
Haider and Zahra clearly agree with me if the disapproving looks they've been shooting him all night are any indication. He's changed so much and not all of it is for the better.
"You want to do me the honor of dancing with me?" Connor asks when he gets back. His face is lit up with a heart stopping smile. He's been such a good date. Even though I've been mostly ignoring him because I'm taking notes for work, he stands dutifully at my side smiling and making small talk.
"I'd love to," I take his hand and let him lead me toward the dance floor. We're almost there when out of nowhere a hard body collides with my shoulder on their way past. I stumble but Connor grabs hold of my waist to keep me from toppling over. The next second he's grabbed ahold of whoever bumped into me. I turn around to see Connor with an unflinching grip on Dastan's forearm.
"What the hell is your problem?" he snarls. Shit. He's pissed. His ears are tinged pink and his pale eyebrows are pinched together causing a little crease between them. His mouth set in a displeased frown that pulls at the edges of his pink lips.
"Right now, it's the fact that you're wrinkling the sleeve of my designer jacket." Dastan responds with an unamused look. His expression is entirely disengaged.
"Well, right now," Connor says affecting Dastan's disinterested voice in a very accurate imitation, "My problem is you."
I watch helplessly from the side as Dastan smiles indulgently at Connor. The way you'd smile at a particularly dull child. "Too bad, but I didn't ask." He says, and then yanks his arm free of Connors grasp.
But Connor won't be deterred, he grabs Dastan's arm again. "Look, I don't know what's going on here but you've been rude all night." Okay so that answers that question. He definitely noticed and he didn't like it. "So, you're going to apologize."
Dastan's still eyeing the place where Connors hand is wrapped around his arm. He looks ready to rip Connors arm right off just to prove a point. "And who's going to make me?" his voice takes on a dangerous edge. One that I recognize from years of seeing him loose his temper. He's always been a little hot-headed and heavy-handed. I'd assumed he'd grown out of it. "You?" I was wrong.
"Yeah, I think I will." Connor responds and something tells me he's not bluffing. Dammit, I need to de-escalate this situation right now. They're already starting to draw the attention of the people around them. The last thing we need is to cause a scene.
"That's cute blondie," Dastan says on the end of a dark little chuckle. Before I know what's happening Connors shoving him hard in the chest. There's a loud chorus of gasps that goes up around the room, Dastan stumbles back. When he rights himself there's a murderous look in his coal black eyes. I need to stop this.
I step between them. You know, like an idiot. I don't know what I'm intending to do but I know that people are staring. I can hear their whispers, hushed conversations carrying around the room. I lock eyes with Haider across the ballroom, he looks absolutely livid.
Grabbing hold of Dastan's wrist I haul him toward the door. He doesn't put up much of a fight. I'm not sure why but right now I'll be grateful for small blessings. On the way out of the room I see Anne. She's watching us with a hurt look on her face. Oh no. I can only imagine what this must look like to her. Dastan and my date fighting. It's not such a stretch for her to think they might be fighting about the one thing they have in common: Me. This whole situation is just cataclysmic.