Ebony & Ivory [H.S]

Sixty-One

"But if you loved me, why'd you leave me?"

"Are you sure you have to go out tonight?" Celia pleads with me, sprawled lazily across my bed, her legs wavering in the air.

She acts like I have a say in the matter, though as one of my main sponsors, the Rimmel London seasonal party is compulsory for all of its models. Well, not all of them.

"Not this again," I laugh, shaking my head as I tousle my hair a little bit in the mirror. "You should be coming along with me. I still don't know how you managed to weasel your way out of it."

"Jet-lag," she shrugs, despite appearing as the perfect embodiment of vitality. I place it down to all the séx she's having with her new man, Alistair.

"You're joking," I scoff. "Mauritius is only three hours ahead! Now which earrings?" I ask, holding two pairs up.

"Gold," she answers automatically. "I just can't be bothered. There's just too much going on, and I thought I might spend the night in with Al." She pauses momentarily, before pressing on. "If that's okay with you, of course."

The question catches me off guard slightly, and I can't help but notice that I'm frozen in place as I pin my earrings in.

Shaking my head, I give off a light hearted shrug.

"Course it's alright!" I laugh, my voice a little too high pitched to be considered believable. "You don't need to ask me permission - I'm not your mother."

"You're definitely not my mother. Not unless you've just downed a couple of valium with a glass of vodka."

"Hmmm?" I feign, overacting as I place my index finger on my chin in deep thought.

She laughs, and I place my hand up to shush her.

"No, give me a minute Celia, I've got to think about it," I continue, dragging out the joke.

I continue getting ready, though I can't help but feel stifled under Celia's close gaze, almost looking for a signal that I'm not okay. I'm not about to give her one, and I exit the room in search of my phone, and am almost bowled over by Alistair in the process.