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I look up at him, smiling warmly.
He returns my smile.
One photographer turns into several.
They seem to come out of nowhere, all clamoring for the money shot. We’re talking about some of the biggest media outlets in the world.
Every time I tried to step aside, Beckett, Anders, or Tomas would pull me back into their circle. Some of the shots were hilarious. Those three guys do a good job at riling each other up.
When it’s all said and done, I’m dizzy from the overload of attention.
This is a lot to handle.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to run to the bathroom,” I tell the guys.
“Sure,” Beckett says, squeezing my hand.
I squeeze his back.
“It was a huge pleasure and an immense honor,” I tell Anders and Tomas. “I’ll remember this day forever.”
God, I sound so lame.
“You say that like we won’t see each other ever again,” Anders says. “If you’re hanging out with this guy”—he points to Beckett—“chances are this is the first of many encounters.”
“Anders is right.” Tomas cuts in. “Not to mention, we’ll be at the two-day event and the closing gala.”
“I’ll see you around, then.”
With a bright smile, I wave at the musical genius duo before I make my escape.
I need some air to compose myself.
I fan myself as I weave my way through the crowd on my way out of the elegant room. I follow the signs until I reach the bathroom. There’s a line when I walk in. A quick glance tells me it might be a while because there are only two stalls.
Why are women always short-changed?
I exit, determined to find another bathroom. After asking around, I head to two other bathrooms without much luck. The third one is the charm.
“All yours,” a diminutive redhead says, as she exits the bathroom, kindly holding the door for me.
I take in the white evening power suit she’s wearing without anything underneath—aka, no top and no bra—and her super high heels in the same color.
Wow.
“Thank you,” I say.
When I enter the bathroom, I nearly shout in excitement because I’m alone.
I inspect my surroundings, nodding my approval.
From the granite counter, to the crystal chandelier, to the intricate gold frames around the mirror, this bathroom screams opulence.
I enter the stall, place my evening bag on the hook behind the door, lift the bottom part of my dress and hover over the seat, praying to God in gratitude as I take care of business.
As I pull up my panties, the bathroom door slams open and then shuts.
Someone is in a rush.
