Page 27 of With You

Damien

I’m proposing in a month

Would mean a lot if you were there

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. I know Damien and Evie love each other, and that their friendship is the silver lining that makes this easier for them, but it doesn’t make it any less sad.

River

Of course

Damien

Thanks

We should be back later tonight so I’ll let you know the plan then

River

Sure, see you later

There’s nothing from Grayson or Layth, as is to be expected. Layth hardly ever texts me, or anyone for that matter, and Grayson will probably post something on social media later for his hundreds and thousands of followers. I’ve never met someone who cares to flash his life around so shamelessly, but I suppose that’s what happens when you aren’t born into this world, and just happen to fall into it.

Right as I’m about to put my phone back into my pocket, a text from my father comes through.

Father

I’ll be in Paris with your mom next week.

River

What for?

Father

She wants to check in on some clothes we’re getting made for a charity auction we have next month.

I want to ask if I’ll be expected to attend that auction with them, too, but don’t want to put any ideas in his head. I don’t know what my plans are for next month, but I’m sure I'll spend all my free time practicing with Amelie.

Father

We have a ticket for you too

Maybe he’s telepathic.

River

Send over the details and I’ll get back to you on that

He does as I ask, forwarding the invite to me so I can check the details. It’s on a weekday evening, so there’s nothing actually stopping me from going, but I’m still unsure. I attended countless events with my parents when I was younger, and while they can be fun, it’s also exhausting to keep a smile plastered on my face for hours at a time.

I don’t respond to him, knowing that he or my mother will ask me again in a few weeks. I put my phone away as I reach the common room, intending to pass right through it and go to my room, until I catch sight of someone sitting at our table, fiddling with my chessboard. Dark brown hair cascades down her back, small braids threaded throughout. It’s different from how her hair was last night, when it was just long and wavy.

She’s in an all-pink outfit again: a pink cardigan over a pale pink shirt, paired with—of course—a pink skirt that barely covers the top of her thighs.

I can never escape her.

Amelie moves the pieces around the board as if she’s playing against herself. I should keep walking and go back to my room, pretend I haven’t seen her at all, but my legs move of their own accord, carrying me toward her. Now feels like the best time to apologise for my lack of communication with her in the car yesterday. It would have been the perfect opportunity with just the two of us alone to explain why I acted the way I did, but I couldn’t think properly.