Love Sucks (Rewritten!)

And The World Went Black

Abigail was more than grateful for the coverage of people, ball gowns, and large plants that kept her hidden from the Drake heir. She wasn't usually the type of girl to blush and cower, but it had all happened too fast. His hand. The dance. She could hardly think over the thumping of her heart. And thinking, she needed to do.

Her desire to attend the ball was coupled by the urgency of her mother's stalemate. She had two and a half months to figure things out before she was forced to accept her fate at university next year. Truthfully, she wasn't here to mingle, or swoon, or party (like Rebecca probably thought she was). Abigail's goal was far more ambitious. A party of this magnitude was the perfect place to meet the higher-ups of society: controversial politicians, multi-national CEO's, investment bankers, and renowned surgeons. Most importantly to Abigail, the owner of a publishing company that had a history of famous interns. Margot had promised her an introduction and she would do anything in her power to make it a successful one. Frolicking about on the dance floor with the most conspicuous guest in attendance was not the best way to do so.

She cursed herself for getting distracted. Where was Margot?

The ball was still in full fling. She could easily slip back into the throng of people, especially wearing a mask, but she hadn't the slightest idea where to find her friend. If only she had a cellphone. Abigail tried to think like Margot. Where would she have gone? Straight into the pocket of the most eligible bachelor, probably. Although the unwitting thought was partly a joke, there was merit it in. Margot loved a trust fund baby with nothing to spend his family fortune on. She could see a few of them crowded together on the other side of the dance floor, not a wrinkle in their black tuxes, glasses of champagne waving around emphatically as they spoke. Abigail would start there. As soon as the coast was clear.

The dance floor was busier now and, thankfully, there was no sign of the blonde prince. He most likely found himself another 'worthy partner'. She pulled up her velvet gloves and adjusted her mask, preparing to join the rest of the mirth, when she felt a presence just beyond her shoulder.

"Who are we spying on hunkered behind this fern?"

Abigail almost jumped out of her skin. Jerking to look at her assailant, she found a young man with an Elvin litheness crouched next to her, so close he could have breathed down her neck. Weirdly, his closeness wasn't what bothered her. "I'm not spying," She started indignantly. "I'm hiding."

"Hiding?" Her answer inspired a wicked grin that spread across his face. He had brown eyes that shimmered with mischief, hair the same color, irreverently disheveled around his head. He was pretty, like the others she had seen, but his beauty lied more in his disposition than his symmetrical face. "Did Mr. Willoby ask to see your toes, too?"

She almost laughed. "No, but I take it that he did yours."

"I'll let you in on a little secret," he said in a loud-whisper, "He did take a peek."

"Did he really?"

"Of course not," The boy feigned a look of betrayal. "Mr. Willoby is a slug amongst men."

Having no idea who Mr. Willoby was or looked like, she could only nod, trying desperately not to imagine a human-sized slug in a waistcoat.

"I'm Patten," he continued when she said nothing. "If Mr. Willoby is not the reason you're down here, then who is?"

How hard was it to shake the inquisitive pretty people? Abigail sighed. "If you must know, I embarrassed myself in front of Nathaniel Drake and I really don't want a second chance to do it again."

"Why do you care what he thinks?" asked Patten.

"Because according to his standards, I'm a peasant." Abigail stood abruptly at a movement near the tuxedoed men. An elegant updo of brown hair bobbed in the distance, a yellow gown swaying in step with a darkly dressed man. She knew immediately they belonged to Margot.