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Laughing, I shake my head and say, “I didn’t mean it, Red, I promise.”
Quin laughs, then asks, “You flying back tonight or are you going to get a room and wait ‘til morning?”
“Wait ‘til morning, The pilot and flight attendant are probably asleep. I can wait a few more hours.” We hang up and I try to fix my shirt and put my mask back on. After pulling in a deep breath and letting it out quickly, I step out of the room, heading to the restroom. I look at my watch and realize I’ve been in the conference room for twenty minutes. Brent should be back at his table, safe.
I rush to the restroom to clean some of the blood from my palm. When I push through the door, I stop dead in my tracks, not believing what I’m seeing. I press my fingers into the tie, my palm smarting with pain so I know it’s not a dream. Holy fuck. I can’t believe this. What are the odds?
Chapter 3
Damon
WhydidIwantto come to this ball? Masks don’t allow for glasses, so I had to wear my annoying contacts. I hate contacts.
Sitting in the back with the press is also not fun. All they’re doing is scribbling on their notepads, since cameras weren’t allowed inside. Lucky for me someone from one of the local news stations got the stomach flu—from the small bit of chatter I found out going around the table—and his seat was empty. They just assumed I was the replacement. I was able to get a pen and jot down some random things on a napkin.
Yesterday, I stopped by a party store and found a mask that would cover my face and keep me hidden from James.
Sneaking my suit in the house and getting ready for the ball was easier than I thought it would be. James likes to be ten minutes early everywhere he goes, so they left well before I started to get dressed. They made a huge mess in their bathrooms and ordered me to clean them. I finished them quickly and when I heard them leaving, I got dressed. After watching several YouTube videos of military women putting their hair in a sock bun, I mastered it and got it done. I usually have my hair in braids or in a ponytail at the base of my neck, so I’m hoping this will throw my family off.
It seems I don’t have to worry about that. They’re seated at the front of the hall, facing the stage and talking amongst themselves. They don’t look to be having an especially good time and the event itself is a dud. The only good thing is listening to the man that James says is running for senate, Brent Montgomery, give a powerful acceptance speech. I can almost see the back of James’s neck turn red. His light brown skin gives away his anger, even when his face doesn’t. A grin spreads across my face and I inwardly rejoice at his annoyance.
After about twenty minutes, my contacts start to irritate my eyes. My glasses are tucked in my jacket pocket, but I don’t want to put them on, just in case James, Fallon, or Conrad happen to look around and spot me. But these damn contacts itch.
Excusing myself, I head to the restroom to try to either fix them or take them out. I’m nearsighted, so I’ll be able to see well enough to get out of here, just not well enough to identify someone twenty feet in front of me.
When I step inside the restroom, I beeline to the sink and pull my mask off. Hopefully, my step family don’t walk in and see me, but there’s no getting to the contacts with it on. I pull my eyelid up to see if there is something—a speck of dust or an eyelash—stuck to the surface. I don’t see anything, but it’s still bothering me. Washing my hands, I dry them quickly and carefully remove the contact in my right eye. I hold it up and look at it closely and feel like an idiot. It’s in backwards. My optometrist told me it needs to look like a bowl, not a valley.
This contact is a valley.
Flipping it around, I try to shove it back in, but my eye is watering so much that I can’t see anything. I wipe under my eye and try again. No dice. I growl in frustration and try again, but it’s like my eye refuses to accept the offending object.
While I struggle, I hear the door behind me open. I tense, then glance in the mirror and see a broad-shouldered white man with arms that look like they’ll burst through his suit jacket. I sigh in relief. Both my stepfather and stepbrothers are mixed race men with either light or medium brown skin. This guy is not one of them.
I do find it weird that the man is just standing there, staring at me. It makes me squirm, wondering if it’s someone James sent, but that’s stupid because he doesn’t know I’m here. Deciding to ignore him, I try once more to put the contact in and huff an irritated breath when I can’t get it in.
“Need some help?” the man behind me asks, taking a step forward. I jump violently and whirl around. His voice is insanely deep, and I didn’t expect him to speak.
When I turned, I clasped the sinks edge with the hand holding the contact and now it’s gone forever. “Dammit,” I groan, finding the contact pasted to the side of the sink. I grab a paper towel and peel it off, tossing it. I have my glasses, so when I’m driving home, I’ll take the other contact out. For now, I have to leave the mask on so I’m not spotted.
“Sorry,” the man says, stepping back from me.
“It’s okay,” I mutter, surprising myself. I don’t speak to people often. If I can get away with it, I nod or shake my head and try to move around them. “It was an accident.”
“Yes, it was,” he says, still staring at me.
We stand there in silence for a few seconds and I squirm. He’s not threatening, but the staring is unnerving. I open my mouth to say excuse me, so I can get out of here and possibly head home from this boring event, but instead I ask, “Are you enjoying the ball?”
He laughs lightly and it flows over me like a cool glass of water. I close my eyes and soak up the sound.
“No,” he answers smoothly. “It’s more boring than I imagined. Are you?”
“No. I don’t know why I wanted to come if I’m being honest. On the bright side, I learned how to do a sock bun,” I say, still wondering why I’m making conversation with this man. This is so out of character for me. My palms are sweating, and I feel moisture over my lip, but I don’t feel nervous about the man or the conversation. Just a little unnerved by my boldness.
The man leans to the side a little and grins when I twist my head for him to see the bun. “Looks good.” He reaches up to touch his hair that’s hanging over his shoulders. The blonde locks are wavy and they look incredibly soft. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch. “I didn’t think about doing anything to mine. A sock bun would have been nice.”
“Maybe.” Another awkward silence descends over us and I clear my throat. “You from around here?” Okay, Damon. What the hell? I know I need to leave, but I can’t seem to get my feet to move from this spot. Not with this stranger standing in front of me, staring at me so hard and assessing.
He sighs, then takes his mask off slowly. I hold my breath, wondering what I’ll see when he reveals his face. He’s handsome, that’s for sure. I knew his lips were nice and full, but the overall package with this high cheeks, gray eyes, and heavy eyebrows takes my breath away. I’ve seen him before, I know it, but I can’t figure out where. “I’m Evan.”
