Cal hated me.
I stood waiting in reception the day after the party, hoping he might show up. I knew that I had ruined everything, and if it were the other way round, I wouldn’t bother showing up either. Not after what I’d said.
But I still hoped that he might.
‘It’s not that bad,’ Sky assured me, when I filled her in properly on Sunday morning. She was tired from the night before but the party had gone so well that nothing could dampen her spirits, not even the long-haul flight ahead of her. It couldn’t have been more of a hit. Everyone on the guest list had shown up, from glamorous models to dramatic rock stars to showbiz journalists, and every celebrity website in the world was talking about it – the stars, the clothes, the venue. Ellie had been inundated with requests to hire out that room for the oncoming year of parties.
‘We’re going to need to hire more staff,’ I overheard her telling Timothy during the party when she confirmed yet another booking.
I should have woken up the next morning elated by the evening’s events. Instead, I woke up feeling like the worst person in the world. Not even Fritz howling along pitch-perfectly to David Bowie in the kitchen where Mum was making breakfast could make me feel better. I checked my phone: no messages.
‘Why are you so upset anyway?’ Sky asked, as her team busied themselves around her suite, packing up everything. Her flight back to LA was that afternoon, which only made me feel worse. Though at least she’d be flying back next month for the Christmas Ball.
I shrugged. ‘I just feel . . . guilty.’
‘But what you said was true, wasn’t it?’ She dodged out of the way of her assistant who came flying past clutching a handful of hair products.
‘I guess. I just have this horrible feeling in my stomach. Like lead.’
She sighed and slumped down on to the sofa next to me.
‘Tell me again exactly what happened.’
I had arrived downstairs at the party to find it brimming with famous faces greeting each other enthusiastically and posing together for photos. I made my way through the air-kissing crowd to get to Sky, who was talking to a journalist about her new album.
‘– and learning from that relationship inspired several of the songs.’ Her face lit up when she saw me hovering nearby with Fritz, and she gestured for me to join her.
‘And have you enjoyed your trip to London?’ the journalist asked, her Dictaphone light blinking red under Sky’s nose.
‘It’s been the best, mostly because of new friends,’ she replied, hauling me under her arm and giving Fritz a pat on the head. ‘It’s surprising how few of them you can find in showbiz.’
The journalist attempted to pry more information out of her but Sky had spotted Ethan waiting in the queue to get in, so she expertly moved her along by introducing her to her producer. Ethan kissed Sky’s cheeks and admired the surroundings.
‘Can’t believe you pulled this off. I thought you were in big trouble this morning.’
‘So did I –’ Sky nodded – ‘until Flick came along. This is all down to her.’
‘Great,’ he said, leaning forwards to kiss me on the cheek. He smelled so good, it made my knees go weak. What IS his aftershave? I need to buy some to spray on my pillow or something.
Not in a creepy way.
‘Ah, there’s Jacob and Carly. Flick, I’ll find you in a second.’
He disappeared into the crowd and I tried to ignore the sinking feeling of being brushed aside. I guess I couldn’t expect him to only pay attention to me. He was definitely a master of playing it cool, whereas I turned into a lump of jelly whenever he came near. I needed to take a leaf out of Sky’s book – her date to the Christmas Ball wasn’t invited to this party as, according to her, that would make her look ‘way too keen’.
Watching Ethan disappear into the crowd, I spotted Cal nudging his way through to me. I couldn’t help but smile as he approached – for someone who never made an effort for anything except homework, he’d done a pretty good job of scrubbing up. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and a thin black tie, and had done something with his hair so it wasn’t so fluffy.
‘It’s packed,’ he enthused, passing me a drink. ‘Everyone looks like they’re having a good time. Cheers.’
We clinked our pink lemonade as Fritz, tucked under my arm, tried and failed to snaffle a canapé from a passing tray. I plonked him on the ground and it wasn’t long before he was swept up into Jamie’s arms and offered a crab cake.
‘Couldn’t have done this without you,’ I admitted to Cal, as he laughed at Fritz being so spoiled.
He shook his head. ‘Yeah, you could have. With your eyes closed. You’ve always been good at telling people what to do.’
I laughed.
‘Nice lipstick, by the way,’ he said, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Looks good.’
