All eyes are on me for reasons I’m not familiar with. One I’ve made sure I never had to worry about until now: Being on the arm of a man, or woman, as their date.
In this case, a man.
A very,veryattractive man, might I add, who I may or may not have tricked into zipping my dress up for me earlier just to see how he reacted.
I mean, I had an entire team there with me not long before we met in the kitchen. They had zipped me up right before they left, but I managed to reach behind myself and tug it down.
I wanted to see if he would help me, maybe see if I could make him squirm.
And while we were back to chest, I could still feel the light tremor in his hands as he slowly pulled the zip all the way up.
I thought I’d done well, catching him off guard the way that I did.
But then he had to spring the necklace on me, his hand resting gently around my neck, and my body betrayed me in a different way.
Goosebumps rose along my skin, plain as day. I know he saw them. I had to make a dash for the door before things got out of hand.
But now, I’m so far out of my element, and my body is telling me to slow down. To go back home and rest, but I can’t do that, no matter how badly I want to.
"Olive!" I’ve been hearing my name since I stepped foot out of my hotel room, but this voice? It's tiny. Not that of an aggressive man behind a camera trying to get my attention.
It belongs to someone younger, much more delicate, and my eyes automatically search the crowd for the owner of that voice. When she calls out to me again, I find her, her long blonde hair, huge blue eyes, and her sparkly tutu.
Letting go of Avery’s hand, I move in the direction of the girl through a sea of people.
"Hi," I say, crouching down to her eye level, and ignoring the swarm of cameras that followed me in her direction. "Did you want me to take a quick photo before I go inside?" I ask as I take the notebook and Sharpie from her hands, signing a blank piece of paper before handing them back to her.
She nods, her smile wide. I look to the woman standing beside her to ask if it’s okay, but she opens her camera app on her phone before I get the chance. Mouthing the words ‘thank you,’ she snaps the photo of who I assume is her daughter and me, right as we’re overrun, people flocking and invading my space.
I can’t move.
Not even a single step. There’s simply nowhere for me to go.
Pens, notebooks, cameras, and microphones are all shoved in my face, and I can’t escape it.
Nowhere for me to hide.
I allowed a moment for one little girl, and people took that as an invitation.
If this were the crowd at one of my shows, I wouldn’t feel so afraid, so vulnerable.
But here I am, at an event honoring athletes, on the arm of the most hated player.
So, when the words ‘What did Jones pay you to be his date?’and ‘You know he’s using you, right?’leave their mouths, fear creeps up my spine, and settles in my core.
It feels like I could be in real, immediate danger, being around these people. Crushed, with my ability to breathe compromised, along with my willingness to move.
Logically, I know I’m alright. Know that I’m just panicking and overwhelmed at the closeness of all these men. But it feels invasive.
"I said, get the fuck out of her way!"
I hear Avery's familiar voice, but I can’t see him.
The face it belongs to is trapped in the fog, still clinging to my brain, and I’m clawing my way out of it.
I'm jolted. Someone yankingmy wrist, dragging me away. But it’s nothishand wrapped around me, but a stranger.
Then I see him.
