After flying overseas to enroll in a prestigious boarding school, Blake Graham assumes that she can finally catch a break.
Instead, she encounters the boy who she fought with almost every day as a child.
After moving back to England, then over to...
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Clark had bummed a ride with me.
So here we sat inside of our second largest plane, flying over the Atlantic. Earlier during the day, Clark had phoned me asking if I had left yet.
"No... why?" I curiously looked at my phone which was on speaker sitting on my bed whilst I packed.
"I'm planning on making my big escape. Wanna help me?"
"Escape from where? The hotel?"
"New York."
And that's what happened. He had hastily packed his two suitcases, checked out of The Plaza, and rushed to the airport barely ready. His hair was messy once again, he had a hoodie with the hood over his head and the sleeves pushed up, and a pair of khaki pants. We had boarded the plane and within thirty minutes we were airborne. Now we sat across from each other sprawled on the plush seats.
We had been sitting in somewhat silence, once in a while chattering. I stood up, stretching my limbs when Clark side eyed me. I retreated towards one of the mini fridges and pulled out a bottle of Perrier. "Want anything?"
"Yeah throw me a Coke."
I pulled out the icy bottle, and went back over to our seats. Clark who had been laying on two chairs, sat up and grabbed the drink from my hand.
"Okay, so game plan." I cracked open my bottle.
Ellington took a sip of his drink, and furrowed his brows. "Game plan for what?"
"The ball, what did you think all you had to do was go to a suit fitting?"
"Yes." He dumbly looked at me, "The fitting was torture enough yesterday." After we had gotten our waffles we both had to go to our fittings. I dragged Clark to Armani first, and he was apparently nicked a few time with some pins. And he really didn't enjoy sitting in Dior with me while I was measured. The only thing that somewhat calmed him down was the steady flow of champagne that was being carted to him constantly. By the end of my appointment Clark's cheeks were a rosy pink color.
"I thought the waffles would sweeten the whole idea of a fitting."
"You flirting with the waiter nauseated me so all I could taste was bile." He rolled his eyes, gulping some of his drink. I ended up getting another paper with the cute waiters number on it, and Clark was still pouting. He was probably bitter that he wasn't the only player anymore, because this gal finally got a guys number.
"What about the champagne? You were clearly ecstatic with the bottle service..." I trailed off.
"Alcohol is the only thing that makes dress fittings fun." He retorted.
"Well anyways, we have one more thing. Can you waltz?"
He looked at me with furrowed brows, "Can I waltz?"
