“Well, what’s he like? He seems so…mysterious.”
I remembered that’s what I’d thought about him too, back when I hadn’t known his name and called him Mr. Smolder.
“She’s not allowed to talk about it,” Charli cut in. “It was part of the rules of the contest. She signed an NDA.”
The girl looked between Charli and me and I could see that she didn’t quite believe us. But then her eyes widened in recognition. “Are you Charlotte James?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Oh my gosh! I love you! I’m a model, or I’m trying to be a model.”
As the girl went on about all the campaigns that Charli had been in and how she was her idol. I couldn’t help but feel relieved. Like many other times, the spotlight was turned onto my bestie. I was grateful. After the flashes of the cameras last night and the brief run in with fame this morning, I could confidently say it wasn’t for me.
After the girl asked me to take a picture of her and Charli, the axis of my world righted itself. I was the picture taker, not the one being photographed. Last night had been an aberration, an anomaly, a deviation from the laws of nature.
And I wasn’t just talking about the gala, I was talking about after the gala. The kiss, the orgasm, the sleeping in Alex’s bed. It was all just a blip in the cosmic algorithm but now everything was right in the universe again.
