I know she’s still mad about our fight and miscommunication, but I’m hopeful we can still sort all of this out. I went all out with this tux, and from the way she’s looking at me, it’s working.
I thought about what Chase and I talked about, and he’s right. I need to show her that I want her andonlyher.
“It would be an honor to escort you inside,” I say, extending my elbow to her. She looks back at her friends, who are pretending to be interested in a plant nearby, and flips her blonde hair that is styled in a nice half up, half down situation.
“No thanks.”
My face falls as she walks over to Cindy and Leslie, still flashing that bit of thigh as she does, and they stride toward the elevator. Not even bothering to look back in my direction until the doors close on the elevator. That went differently in my head.
Chase comes up beside me with a cocky grin on his face. “That went well.”
I don’t know why he’s smirking; he’s not here with Leslie. He brought his sister Karla with him. She’s a about the same age as us, and still in college, close to graduating, I think. Though I’m not sure how they are so close in age, but I’m not going to ask about that. Chase and Karla look similar but not as alike as you would think siblings would be. While Chase’s hair is a bright red, Karla’s is more of a strawberry blonde, and her eyes are a golden hazel color to Chase’s light green.
“Shut up. Not like you’re here with the person you want to be with, either,” I quip. That shuts him up real quick, and Karla’s head whips in Chase’s direction.
“No offense, Karla,” I quickly say.
“It’s okay, I’m more curious about who this person is,” she taunts Chase, whose face is beet red.
I take the stairs to give me time to think while Chase and Karla wait for the next elevator. I can show Regan who I can be, I can explain everything, I just need to get her alone, get her to listen.
This is probably the fanciest gala I’ve ever been to. Everyone is dressed to the nines, and even the big guns of the SCORS series are here. Both the president, Ramon Vera, and the vice president, Bryan Graves, are here. I’ve only seen them in passing; never had the opportunity to have a conversation with them. A lot of sponsors are here as well—it’s a full house.
I walk through the ballroom to get to the bar. There are tables with white tablecloths and plate settings ready for the dinner portion, and a space for a dance floor after the auction. Everything is black and white, very sleek and modern.
I meet Chase, Taylor, and Ian when a figure appears next to me. I take my beer from the bartender and turn to see who has taken the space next to me. It’s none other than RamonVera himself. In a blue pinstriped suit and his black hair styled and swept to one side.
Oh, shit.Okay, breathe. Everything is fine.
“Dean Dixon,” he says, extending his hand. He’s a bit shorter than I am, and his other hand is holding what looks to be a whiskey with a nice Rolex on his wrist.
“Mr. Vera.” I give his hand a firm shake.
“Please, it’s Ramon. I’ve been following your season. There’s a good chance of you stealing this championship out from under Regan Brady’s feet,” he says, taking a sip from his glass.
I take a sip of my own beer. “That’s the goal, sir.”
“Keep up the good work. I expect great things from you in the future. If you’ll excuse me.”
I nod as he walks off to talk to a group of sponsors.
“Holy shit,” exclaims Chase. “That is probably the best compliment that you can get from Ramon Vera.”
“Yeah,” agrees Taylor. “I’ve been part of SCORS for forever and he’s barely even talked to me once.”
We take our drinks and wander through the ballroom before dinner is to be served and talk to some crew members and their spouses, as well as some sponsors.
Once the dinner portion is over, Chase, Ian, Taylor and I refresh our drinks and are doing another round talking with some more sponsors. After they have left to return to their partners, a woman saunters up to us in a skintight, light blue dress and heels so high, I’m surprised she makes walking look as easy as she does. Her dark hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that rivals Ariana Grande.
“Why hello, boys. Don’t you all look dashing?” the woman says with a big, flashy smile.
Chase, Taylor, and Ian are all basically drooling over this woman. I take a step away, just in case a certain pair of hazel eyes are watching, but that seems to draw her closer to me.
“You must be Dean,” she coos.
I clear my throat. “Yep, that’s me. But I’m not sure I know who you are.”
“Oh, right. How rude of me not to introduce myself, I’m Claire,” she says, extending her hand for a shake.
