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“It’s fine,” I say with a laugh. “It’s your job; go wild.”
I like watching Bailey work. She’s got this confidence about her as she angles her camera in just the right position, and I love seeing it burst through. There were a few years after we finished school and I was heading to university when she didn’t have this brightness to her. Her parents, as lovely as they are overall, weren’t happy with her decision not to go to university. They weren’t supportive of her career choices, nervous that it wouldn’t amount to anything.
I’m so happy that she’s proved them wrong.
Maybe it’ll be my turn to prove my mother and Patrick wrong next.
You’d think that being an interior designer at one of the most sought after companies in the country would make them proud. But it doesn’t.
They’ve never seemed to understand my job — never taken thetimeto understand it — and it doesn’t help that Cynthia barely pays me above minimum wage. Patrick seems to think all I do is “doodle, paint, and shop” for a living and my mother never misses the opportunity to tell me about the children of all her friends. Somehow, they all seem to be lawyers and doctors earning six figures and buying their parents cars and houses.
And my dad? Myactualdad? To be fair to him, I have no idea what he thinks about my career choices. I only see him once or twice year if I’m very unlucky, and our conversations rarely revolve around me.
“Amber,” Bailey hisses suddenly, reaching out to grab my arm. “Look lively, babe. You’ve got eyes on you.”
I swivel around on my stool and realise that she’s right. A guy is staring at me from across the room. When our eyes meet he grins sheepishly, obviously aware that he’s been caught. I expect him to drop his gaze or quickly hurry away, but he doesn’t.
He pushes through the crowd with surprising speed, and before I know it, he’s standing in front of me. Bailey pretends to be extremely interested in the bottom of her cocktail and leaves us to it.
His name is Mark and he’s handsome in a boyish kind of way. I’m pretty sure he’s at least a few years younger than me, but I have to hand it to the kid: He’s got game. Before I know it, I’m laughing at something he’s said and then he’s handing me his phone.
Bailey lets out a not so quiet “woohoo” under her breath behind me as I tap in my number and Mark’s cheeks redden slightly. Once my number is safely saved in his phone, he grins widely, promises to message me sometime soon, and then disappears back into the crowd.
“He’s definitely gone to brag to his friends,” Bailey cackles as soon as he’s out of hearing range. Her laughter is infectious, and I can’t help but join in.
“I think that’s the first time I’ve been hit on in months,” I say as I laugh.
“That’s only because it’s the first time you’ve beenoutin months,” Bailey says, and she’s got a point. “But we’ll discuss baby face in a minute.” She nods at someone over my shoulder and then offers me an apologetic grimace. “I’ve got to go and do the rounds. There are a few people here I should probably be seen with.”
“Go, go. I’ll be right here when you get back.” I wave her off and signal to the bartender for another passion fruit martini. I’m swiping through Instagram aimlessly in an attempt to avoid making eye contact with anyone while I’m alone, when someone enters my personal space.
I’m not sure why, but I assume it’s Mark back again having plucked up the courage to maybe ask me for a dance, and I swivel around on my stool.
It’s not Mark.
5
FINN
Even if Ihadn’t known who she was, I’m pretty sure Amber would’ve managed to drag my attention away from this incredibly dull conversation the second she walked into the room.
I nod along, not really listening as Rob — Ithinkit’s Rob — gives me his well-rehearsed spiel about his brand. Ishouldbe listening, though. Rob owns the vodka brand hosting this event, and we’re currently looking for an exclusive supplier for the London location of the club.
That’s the only reason I’m even here right now. I’d much rather be holed up in my hotel room going over my plans for the expansion for the nth time, but this is important. We need a supplier. Someone fresh and exciting to give us an edge over the other members clubs around. So yes, I absolutely should be listening to Rob’s pitch right now, but I’m not.
I’m too busy watching Amber.
She’s here with a friend, an equally pretty young woman with a cloud of thick, curly hair. But I don’t have eyes on the friend.
Just her.
She’s wearing a pair of slim-fitting jeans that hug her waist, showing off a figure I hadn’t noticed back at the property, a strapless black top wrapped tightly around her torso, and strappy heels. She looks stunning.
She laughs at something her friend says as they meander through the crowd and head to the bar. I don’t know how, but her laugh, soft and tinkling, cuts through the loud, thumping music and hits my ears like she’s standing right next to me.
What a laugh. I want to hear it again.
“…hoping to break into America. What do you think?”
