When the elevator door opened onto the floor that had been rented out for the party and my dad waltzed out, I nudged into Aspen’s side, pecking a little kiss into the crown of his hair. He looked ridiculously hot in his fitted suit, with dark eyeliner smudged around his pretty eyes like usual, and his matching black nails.
I knew he was nervous, from the way he’d babbled on back in the hotel room while we’d been getting ready for the party, asking me tons of questions about how he should act and what he should tell people about us.
As it turned out, he didn’t have anything to feel nervous about. The first part of the night consisted of my father parading us around to his important CEO friends, bragging about Aspen’s full ride scholarship and GPA, which he shouldn’t have evenknown about. But we were past that, and I was going to let it go. Even if the thought of him digging around in my boyfriend’s personal files and medical records still made me want to burn the entire fucking building to the ground.
My mother arrived to the party a half hour or so after we did. She looked beautiful as always, glowing in a silver satin slip dress and with her golden curls piled on her head in a sophisticated updo, but as usual she wasn’t particularly interested in me or what was going on in my life. I was used to it.
I’d heard my parents fighting more than once about me, and had learned that she’d never wanted children in the first place. My dad had basically forced her to give birth to me so he’d have someone to carry on his legacy and leave his accumulation of wealth to, so her disinterest wasn’t exactly personal.
I wondered how Aspen’s mom would feel about me. I wondered if she would let us come over for Christmas once she was healthier. I hoped so.
Once my dad was done bragging and we’d suffered through what felt like an appropriate amount of time of speaking with my mother, he let us wander off while he mingled.
The huge open floor consisted of a section for dancing and an open bar. The walls were glass all the way around so you could see the city skyline in every direction, and we’d see the fireworks and the ball drop at midnight. A classy little jazz band were playing on a raised stage, while waiters circulated with trays of canapés. Aspen wrinkled his nose at the caviar on brioche, even after watching me try it.
“Fish eggs?” He asked me incredulously, and I snorted.
“It’s amazing. You will love it,” I promised, picking one up for him. “Come on, Cupcake. Be brave.”
He let out a pouty little huff before begrudgingly opening his mouth, letting me gently put it on his tongue as he eyed me with obvious distrust.
“Well?” I prompted, as he slowly chewed.
“It’s… It’s really good,” he finally admitted, his eyes popping wide, probably because he’d never tasted anything like it.
“I knew it,” I remarked, smirking. “You were made for luxury.”
“Please,” he retorted, obviously embarrassed by my statement. “I was not.”
“You were,” I corrected him. “Better get used to it.”
When the familiar face of someone awkwardly loitering in a mostly empty corner caught our eye, Aspen’s eyebrows popped up.
“Isaak?” He called out. Isaak whirled to face us, looking shocked.
“Aspen?” He called back, blinking in confusion as we crossed the floor to where he was at. “What are the two of you doing here?”
“Caelyx’s dad is the one throwing the party,” Aspen told him.
“Your father is Faulkner Vane?” He asked in shock, looking at me.
“The one and only,” I said, and then recognition finally clicked as to where I’d seen him before. “You went to Vanguard Prep, didn’t you?”
“Yeah!” He answered, blinking. “How’d you know that?”
“Me too,” I responded. “You were a senior when I was just a sophomore, so you probably didn’t notice me,” I explained.
“That’s a crazy coincidence,” Aspen noted, and Isaak nodded frantically.
Upon further investigation, we discovered his mother was the owner of a luxury cosmetics brand which was exclusively sold in some of the department stores owned by my father. Our parents had attended tons of business events together, and we even had mutual friends and acquaintances.
“This is great, actually,” Aspen remarked, after listening to us chatter about our old school a bit. “You were worried about it being weird coming to hang out on movie nights and stuff, right?”
“Really?” I asked, giving Isaak an odd look.
“W-well, I’m older than you guys, and I’m a teacher’s assistant!” He explained. “I’m not really supposed to socialize with anyone in the class, because of favoritism and grade disputes and all that.”
“I don’t have queer studies anymore now that the semester’s over,” Aspen said. “So there’s no more conflict of interest, right?”
