"Smile, darling," my mom says through a gritted smile of her own.

"Of course," I say agreeably as I continue to shake the hand of hundreds of people. "Thank you for coming. I'm so glad you're here. I'll see you inside," I repeat to each stranger who passes me by.

"Shoulders back, Heather," my mother directs.

I clench my jaw and nod at her.

"If you focus on something else like...the shoes people are wearing, you can probably tune her out," Preston whispers over to me.

"Nothing can tune her out," I complain.

"Well, in that case...if you can't beat her, join her."

"...What?"

"Greet harder, darling," he mocks.

"Ah," I nod when I see what he means. "Stand straighter, Preston."

"Don't blink, sweetheart."

"Stop breathing so much, honey."

"Heather," my mother whispers harshly, "no talking." Preston and I look at each other before falling into a fit of laughter—which only makes her angrier. She comes over and grabs me out of the line. "Would you take this seriously, please?"

"I learned how to curtsy in high heels and waltz just for tonight. How much more serious can I get?'

"You can at least pretend to be grateful that your friends and family came here to see you on your big day."

"I am pretending. Should I smile with more teeth?"

She huffs and rolls her eyes, "you can't be happy unless everyone else is miserable."

I scoff in disbelief and glare at her.

And she thinks she can just walk off?

"Heather-" My father stops me before I could make matters worse.

"But that was so hypocritical. Did you hear what she said?"

"Give your mother a break, okay? She's been looking forward to this since she found out she was having you."

"I know, she is obsessed with having my life go the same way hers did."

"Is that such an awful thing? She loved her debutante ball. She still has her dress and gloves."

"Good for her, but this isn't the merry seventies anymore. I'm not getting ready with my friends, curling my hair and listening to Journey."

"It's adorable that you think your mother listened to Journey, Heather." I roll my eyes. "Just go out there for her, get some nice pictures and make us proud."

"I don't have much of a choice."

"No..." he admits, "however, your participation won't go unpaid. The favor will be returned...though it shouldn't have to be. In the future, you'll see why tonight was so important. This hotel is currently occupied by all the gatekeepers of the world. Charm them now, and no door will ever be locked for you."

"Isn't that what I have you for?"

"It's cheaper to just be nice."

"Fine," I breathe out.

"Very good. Now...what are you?" He looks expectedly at me, and I sigh, not wanting to respond. "Heather?"

"...a princess," I say grudgingly.

"And doesn't that make you happy?"

You've got to be kidding me.

"How could it not?" I smile at him.

"We can watch The Crow or Scream," Matt suggests.,

"Isn't The Crow that movie where the actor died in the middle of filming?"

He nods, "Bruce Lee's son."

"Bruce Lee had a son?" Danny says in surprise.

"Yeah, he was shot by a prop gun 4 years ago on the set of this very movie," Matt speaks like it makes the movie more exciting.

"That's fucking terrible, Matthew."

"Well, yeah, obviously. But it makes watching it a little eerie, so why not?" He explains. "People think there's some ancient curse on the family. You know, since Bruce Lee was killed by ninjas or the triad and they want us to believe he was killed by aspirin."

"I'm not gonna watch a cursed movie," Danny argues.

Matt sighs, "so, Scream, then?"

"How about we just watch TV?" I suggest.

"I'm not turning on Saved by the Bell just so Danny won't have nightmares."

"Nightmares?" Danny scoffs, "you're afraid of purse puppies, and you're trying to rag on me?"

"Bro— chihuahuas bite!" Matt says angrily, "they're just big rats! Rabid fucking demon rats-"

"Do you hear this guy?" Danny looks over to me.

"Yeah, when are you guys going to get married? You argue like you already are."

"Ah— fuck you," he waves me off, and I laugh to myself as I get up to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" Matt asks.

"To the living room. I want to see what's on TV."

"What is with you and TV? You waiting for a new episode of Baywatch or something?"

"I'm not surprised you watch that, Matt."

"Oh, I know what he wants to see," Danny says slyly. "Your girlfriend's got that thing tonight, doesn't she?"

"I think I should watch, you know, be supportive."

"So, are you a cuck for watching your girl walk down the aisle holding another dude's hand...or is he the cuck for walking with someone else's girl?"

"It's not a fucking wedding. This Preston kid is only-"

"She's walking down the aisle with a dude named Preston?" Danny chimes in. "What kind of fucking bozo has that name?"

"You ever notice that rich guys have last names for first names?" Matt laughs, "Hi, my name is Harrison Thompson."

Danny laughs with him, "nice to meet you, I'm Jefferson Jameson."

Matt snickers, "Heather's doing Preston-"

"Shut up."

"Why don't you just go?" He suggests, "There's those West Point dickheads. Get your girl away from the future war criminals."

"I can't just show up to something like that. I'll look all weird and clingy," I sigh. "Plus, I made a big deal about seeing her tomorrow instead."

"Alright, wait it out then," Danny says unconvincingly.

"Would you?"

"No...but I'm not you, and Heather isn't Val."

"This is my fault...I should've just said yes to seeing her later."

"Well, who said the invitation doesn't still stand?"

"Finally," I huff and push past him. "Did you have trouble finding the door?"

"Why are you in my house?" Tony stares at me in confusion.

"Get dressed, pull a suit out of your closet if you have to. It was too late notice to find a replacement for Gregory, and I will not have an appointed stand-in and let those debutante whores think they're better than me." He doesn't move. "So, go...hurry, I still have to get ready."

He shrugs, "no."

"...excuse me?" I glare at him.

"You called me a dog and laughed in my face when I wanted to go with you, Audrey."

"Don't be so sensitive," I say annoyedly.

"Find someone else."

"Tony," I sigh.

"The door is right there," he points, "you know, in case you have trouble finding it."

"Okay, you win, I'm sorry. Can you please go get dressed now?"

"Audrey, I'm not kidding. A half-assed apology isn't going to get me to do you any favors. You're on your own tonight. Just the way you like it."

"I didn't mean it as an insult when I said you were more of a puppy than a guy," I try to explain."

"My bad, should I have thanked you?"

"I only meant that boys are the worst sometimes, and you aren't, really. You're normally so nice— mildly annoying, but it can be amusing."

"Goodbye, Audrey."

"Tony, wait," I grab his arm and pull him toward me. He looked less than pleased with me, but I reached up and kissed him anyway. He kissed back, hesitantly...and his hands cautiously found their way to my face.

The nervousness is so obvious.

But kind of cute.

I pull away and look up at him with pleading eyes. "Now will you get dressed?"

He nods, still stunned by what happened.

"Now I'll get dressed."

Of all the over the top hotels in Manhattan...I'm so glad she doesn't live at this one.

Where the fuck am I even going?

"Excuse me," I stop some guy with a suitcase, "do you know where they'd host a ball at in this place?"

"...the ballroom?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," I nod. "Where would I find that?"

"Third floor, you can take the elevator," he points toward a hall.

"Thanks, man," I say courteously.

I turn toward the dark area the elevators are placed in and see a gold sign that tells me where everything is— I didn't even have to bother that old man...but aren't there supposed to be people who get paid to ask me where I'm going?

Have I gotten used to seeing a doorman?

The elevator opens up on my side first, and another guy gets on behind me.

"What floor?" I ask.

"17th, please."

Yikes, you're going to be here for a while.

I just don't like elevators...

so I was relieved when the doors parted early for me.

For this place to be so big and expensive...all the halls are dim and unwelcoming. But I see the doors to the ballroom and every girl in a white dress that stands behind them.

"I'm sorry, sir, you need a ticket to get into this event," a man stops me before I could even walk up.

"I was just going to wait out here, actually."

"Unfortunately, that's not allowed."

"Okay...how much are the tickets then?"

"The lowest is $1,100."

"Fucking shit," I almost choke on the air, "to watch?"

"Yes, sir..."

"I only need to get a message to someone in there...can you tell Heather to meet me in the lobby after? Or what I think is the lobby. I'm telling you, bro, this place is huge. By the time I get back there— the dance will be over-"

"Hello..."

The man and I turn our heads simultaneously toward the new voice.

"Hi..." I furrow my eyebrows. Since when do you talk to me?

"He's with me, the Sinclair table," Alison says as she hands him a ticket from her purse.

"He is?" The man scans over my clothes.

Alright, asshole. I'm wearing a collared shirt and dress shoes, what else do you want?

"Yes," she replies.

"All men are required to wear a suit jacket in the ballroom," he instructs. "I'm assuming you don't have one."

"I can find you one inside, come on," Alison grabs my wrist and drags me with her.

"Okay?"

She pulls me along, but we divert from the entrance as soon as we pass through the doors.

She walks so fast that it's almost hard to keep up with her, and I know she's only doing it so that we're seen by as little people as possible.

"Some of the escorts bring two suits just in case something happens when they get here," Alison brings me to a rack of tuxedos in garment bags.

"They don't come back for them?"

"They won't be missed. That's why they're shoved off to the side," she explains. "Just see what fits."

"The sizes are so weird," I skim over them in confusion. "Regular? How is that a size?"

Alison shakes her head and pushes me aside to search for herself. Well, of course you'd know how suits work. Every guy you hang out with wears them like they're casual.

"This one should do. It might be a little big, but nothing too noticeable," she hands me a jacket out of one of the garment bags.

"Thanks..."

"You can go find Heather, now."

"...why're you doing this? Why'd you get me in here?" Because I'm pretty sure we've never had a conversation before today...and despite that, you already don't like me.

She sighs, "because...look," we head toward the main floor where everyone is gathered, and Alison points me in the direction of Heather.

She's standing with a few girls and holding a bouquet of pink roses. The photographer takes two photos, and the flash lights up her face right before her smile falls.

I've always thought it was so cute when she pouts.

"Has she been like this all night?"

"From what I've seen, yes. And, as her friend-"

"You're her friend?"

"I hope so..." She replies sheepishly. I nod and start walking off in the direction of my girl. "Wait-" Alison stops me, "can you ask if she'll still come to the party? Or if you both will...please?"

"Yeah...maybe."

I appreciate you raising the peace flag and all— but I wouldn't blame Heather for ignoring you forever.

I don't care to share anyway.

"Ehem," I clear my throat once I'm behind her. "This is the second fancy ball I've had to save you from, it's becoming a habit, butterfly."

Heather turns to me quickly with a gasp. "Leo," she says happily and throws her arms around my neck.

I chuckle and hug her tightly, "are you really that glad to see me?"

"Of course, how'd you get in here?" She asks in surprise.

"Alison...believe it or not." Heather furrows her eyebrows and peers past me to look at her. Alison smiles thinly, and Heather returns the gesture with her own uneasy smile. "I came to tell you that I'd hang with you tonight if you still wanted me to. I know it's weird that I'm here, it all just kind of happened."

"No, it's not weird," she disagrees.

"Good...because I only blew you off out of jealousy when you invited me to that after-party thing."

"You were jealous? Of who?"

"The guy you invited to this," I shrug. "It's immature and I feel dumb admitting it. I mean, you were right, I'm not into this whole— upper-class entertainment thing."

"Aw," she smiles, "baby."

"No," I say shyly and look down when I feel my face heating up. "It's so stupid...I just wanted you to think of me, I guess."

"I did, Leo. If this were about me at all, I definitely would have come here with you. But all of this," she motions around her, "this isn't about me. This is about images and networking..."

"For your family?"

"And every daughter's family. If anyone happens to enjoy themself, that's just a bonus."

"So, I'm your bonus then," I smirk and pull her by her waist until she's pressed against me.

"You're more than that."

"I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you here? Is it like— frowned upon or something?"

"Probably," she nods, "but I don't care."

I smile at her as she starts to lean in, using the roses in her hand to block our faces from the crowd.

"Heather?"

We back away from each other abruptly at the disturbance.

"Oh," Heather says breathlessly, "Preston."

So, this is the guy...

"I snuck a couple glasses of champagne," he hands one to her.

"Aw, thank you," she smiles. "Preston this is Leo, Leo...Preston."

"The boyfriend," he nods. "It's nice to meet you."

Oh, good, so you know I'll beat your ass if you get too handsy.

"Yeah...you too."

"Okay, great— I'll just go mingle for a while," he starts to back away awkwardly.

"No," I sigh, "if you need Heather for something, it's fine. You came with her, I'm the one who just showed up."

"Uh, well...we're supposed to dance soon, but she can do that with you instead."

"Nah, it's fine. I don't even have the white gloves." The long gloves on the girls make them look elegant and pretty...

The gloves on the guys make them look like servers.

"Okay, I'll see you out there, then," he smiles enthusiastically before nodding 'goodbye' to the both of us.

I felt bad for him just a second ago...but now I find him obnoxious. What are you so excited for?

"Leo," Heather says worriedly, "Are you sure you don't mind?"

You can read my thoughts, can't you?

"Yeah, give the guy a dance. You're leaving with me anyway."

She nods, "but don't think this means you're getting out of here without dancing with me first."

I jokingly roll my eyes, "wouldn't dream of it. The second they start playing Berlin, you're mine."

"Already am."

"Make sure he doesn't forget that, okay?"

"Whatever," Heather says teasingly to get a rise out of me.

Slow music begins to fill the room and clear the main floor of anyone without a partner.

Preston stands there alone waiting for Heather— obnoxiously.

"Tell him to keep those gloves above the waist, butterfly," I whisper in her ear.

She laughs lightly before smirking. "Why, you never do?"

I chuckle at her response.

"You're right." But, he doesn't like you the way I do.

"God," I hang up the phone in frustration when I finally see Elizabeth walking up.

"You're late, I needed you here an hour ago."

"Well, it looks like you managed without me."

"It's enough that for the past week, I've only been able to contact you by voicemail, but when I tell you to be somewhere at a certain time, you do that!" She shrugs. "Do you not want this job anymore? Just quit, stop wasting my time."

"I do want this job..."

"Then what is your problem, Elizabeth?"

"Our business relationship has been really— unprofessional, and I know it's partially my fault...but I'd prefer if we kept things strictly business from now on."

I scoff through laughter, "are you serious?"

After all the favors I've done for you?

Your entire job is a favor. To hell with professionalism.

"Yes," she crosses her arms over her chest.

"This is because of me still being in school, isn't it?"

"Maybe a little," Liz admits, "but I stand by what I said. You're my boss and I'm an employee, that's all."

There was something that day at my club...

You felt it...you started it.

"Yeah, alright, whatever. I don't need you here anymore, go home, Elizabeth."

"...am I fired?"

"I haven't fired you for any of the bullshit you've pulled before, why would I start now?"

"Ethan," she sighs.

"Don't call me that, it's unprofessional."

"Where to now, runaway bride?" Leo teases.

We snuck out early, right after the West Point Cadets joined the dance floor.

"My parents are going to kill me," I smile at him.

"They're going to kill me," he smirks.

"Probably..." I agree. "I'm going to change and then we can get out of here before they come back."

"Your friend asked me to convince you to come over," he puts his hands in his pockets.

"Alison?"

"Yeah, I told her no promises."

"Well...I'll go if you want to, but I'm not going without you."

He chuckles, "I was invited too."

"We'll go, then?" I say with surprise in my voice.

"I'll do whatever you want," Leo shrugs.

"You're just being nice," I give him an adoring look before heading toward my closet.

"She misses you," he follows after me. "I'd miss you too."

"If anyone says anything to you at the party, I'll-"

"I can take care of myself, butterfly," he comes up behind me to help undo my zipper.

"That's not going to stop me," I smirk.

"I know," Leo turns me around to face him. "But I'm not worried about them," he pulls the dress sleeves down my shoulders. "I only care about you."

"I can take care of myself," I say mockingly.

"Mhm," he places his hands on my waist and looks at me...the way he does.

If my heart could speak for itself...It'd say those words too soon.