A Rhapsody Of Sorts

22- All-Weather Friends

November 14, 2012.

The film premiere was in two days, with Friday looming over my head like a storm cloud waiting to downpour on me. Belinda, however, could see nothing but sunshine and a bright blue sky ahead of her, and the only blip in her forecast was the fact that I hadn't even bothered to open my invitation yet.

The cherry red envelope had been sitting on my coffee table for two weeks. Belinda's eyes had nearly popped out of her head when she noticed it sitting under an empty glass, a water ring stained over the cursive writing that spelled out my name and address in gold ink. Annoyed and running on a short fuse already, the only reason I finally tore it open was to get her to stop pestering me about it.

"Plus-one," I muttered, glancing back and forth from the invitation to Belinda. She was in the midst of stirring her fifth spoonful of sugar into her cup of cinnamon tea. "Why have I got a plus-one? I don't need a plus-one."

Her spoon clattered on the countertop when she gasped, full-toothed smile stretching across her face.

"Of course you need a date, Oliver!" she squealed, clapping her hands together.

I eyed her carefully, taking in how polished she looked — her berry pink lipstick was painted on with precision and there wasn't a hair out of place on her head. She'd been acting more Belinda-like all week, and I knew it had everything to do with the build-up to the premiere. At Pilates on Monday, she hugged our instructor so tightly in greeting that I feared we'd have to call an ambulance. Yesterday she dragged me to her favorite boutique, where she ended up buying seven different pairs of shoes. Seven. And, today, she nearly wept when I poured her tea into the tiny pink cup I found in the back of my cupboard that I — correctly — assumed she'd like. Her excitement was a little much, even for her, but I let it go because Belinda Ferrence was flying higher than ever and I wasn't about to knock her down.

In the wake of the charity dinner on Halloween, several pieces were published about Belinda and me. Nothing that was written had been overtly terrible, though — mostly just Kevin Fletcher implying that Belinda was an airhead and that I was manipulating her, before he delved into a spiel about the color burgundy and how it clearly wasn't coincidental that Harry and I both wore it. It was nothing we couldn't deal with. Belinda's PR team was grateful for all the extra attention our friendship was bringing in for Lily of the Valley, and Victoria wasn't any more annoyed with me than usual. Gio had even gone so far as to praise me for having enough intelligence to get photographed at a charity event of all places.

"Uh...why?" I asked, passing the invitation to her.

"Because," she started, lightheartedly rolling her eyes, "you don't want to be left all alone at the after party, do you?"

"After party? You told me about a premiere, not some party."

"Yes, well — you have to go to the party!" she declared, her lips coming together in a small pout before she continued. "And you have to bring a date, too. Mum and Katie will be going back to the hotel after the film, and I'll be too busy to keep you occupied." She darted forward to grab my forearms, grinning wildly.

I shook my head. "I think I'll be okay on my own, B."

"Oliver," she scolded in a voice eerily similar to my mum's, "this is my first film premiere, and this is all I'm asking of you." She tilted her head to the side. When her left eye twitched, I regretted letting her get at the sugar this early in the morning. She was already so hyped up on adrenaline.

"Okay, fine," I finally sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Thank you," she said in a sweet voice. "When you have your first film premiere, I'll do whatever you want."