“What did you say your name was?” He furrows his brow.
“I didn’t. It’s Alison.” I know using a fake name may be futile, but the less he knows about me, the better. I’m actually pretty shocked I haven’t been recognized by either of my dance partners yet.
“Well, I like that you’re quiet. The last girl I danced with talked too much.”
The longer I spend in this bloke’s presence, the angrier I become. Everything that comes out of his mouth is negative.
“If you hate everything about the themed dinner, why did you bother coming?”
“My mum made me escort her. She didn’t want to come alone. If I didn’t come, she threatened to withhold my quarterly allowance.”
Is he joking? Where is his backbone? Find a job if you disagree with your mum. If he’s having trouble now, how will he manage later in life? It irritates me that he’s so immature. Nick has to be in his late twenties. I bet he’s never worked a day in his life. Eddie and I may be part of a privileged family too, but our parents made sure we always made good use of our time.
We were expected to volunteer with different charities during our school holidays and even hold part-time jobs. The summer I turned sixteen, I remember Papa telling me that I’d be working as a salesclerk in the palace gift shop. It was important to him that we each had some real-life experience.
“Do you have a job?” I ask.
“Pfft. No. It’s beneath me.” He puffs out his chest. “Icome from one of the wealthiest families in the country.”
That’s the final straw. I can’t stand his smugness and ego any longer. I drop my hands from him and step away. “Nick, you’re a good dancer, but you need to work on your attitude and your conversation skills.” I clench my fists. “Did you know that one of my good friends planned this event? And I think she’s done an amazing job. You may not be enjoying it, but look around you.” I gesture to the smiling couples surrounding us. “Everyone else is. If you don’t have anything positive to say, I’d advise you to stay quiet. You never know who you’ll manage to offend.”
Turning on my heel, I leave him staring cluelessly around me and march over to the refreshment table for a nice cool drink. I blow a lock of hair out of my face and mutter, “After Mr. Entitled Motormouth, I never thought I’d appreciate the quiet.”
“Ma’am.”
I jump and splay my hand on my chest. My pulse beats wildly in my ears. “Arthur! Where did you come from?”
“I’ve been here,” he says. He hands me a cup of juice.
“Thanks.” As I take a long sip, the strawberry and cherry flavor hits my tongue. It’s the perfect ratio of sweetness. I can’t drink it quickly enough.
“Refill?”
“Um, sure. I guess I was thirstier than I thought.”
Taking hold of my cup, he picks up a ladle and scoops a spoonful of juice from the punch bowl into it. I have to admit that even though I’m determined to have him replaced, he looks handsome in his black suit with a crisp white dress shirt.
“Was there a problem?” He nods toward Nick, who’s claimed his next unwilling victim.
“Yes, but nothing you can fix. He’s like a peacock who only cares about preening his own feathers. He’s the center of his own universe and unaware of anything else that’s going on around him.”
“I see.”
“If I need rescuing in the future, don’t worry, I’ll let you know.” I smack my lips together. “Should I make some sort of special signal to you if I need rescuing?”
He helps himself to a drink and frowns. “No. I’ll be watching you.”
“Are you sure? I can make it subtle. It can be something like me tugging on my ear?” I demonstrate, and somehow manage to tangle some of my hair in my hoop earrings. “Ugh.” I place my cup down and reach for the offending piece of jewelry, tilting my head to the side. My cheeks warm in embarrassment.
“Do you need help, ma’am?”
“No, I’ve got it.” I feel around for the backing of the earring and remove it. “But maybe you’re right. We don’t need a secret sign,” I admit.
Arthur doesn’t answer me, taking a long drink from his own punch.
“Excuse me?” Another lad, this time with red hair and a smattering of freckles, approaches us. I turn around. “Are you two together?” He glances at Arthur.
“No.” Arthur takes a few steps away from me so he’s standing alone to the side of the table.
