The Ruel's That I Break

caviar like this

"Is that all you're going to eat?"
I turn around to see the singer guy from Australia introduced to me as Ruel looking at me. Ruel. What a weird name.
"Yeah," I say, slightly embarrassed.
"But you're so tall!"
His voice is weird too. He doesn't sound Australian. Maybe Larissa got it wrong and he isn't from Australia? It sounds kind of British or something. I'm kind of surprised he noticed my height. I hadn't paid any attention to him until now, and I'm quickly notice he's pretty tall too.
"That's what I have been told since I could walk," I reply, sighing a little. As much as I like being tall and as much as everyone says that it 'suits me', it does get annoying. It's like people don't notice anything else.
"Same here," he replies, a knowing look in his eyes. I hadn't really thought about other people who also deal with it. I guess it's nice have someone to relate to. Being such a strict industry means that I don't really get to meet 'normal' people. But for some reason I feel myself forgetting that I'm famous. I feel slightly 'normal'. Now that that conversation is over, I just pretend to be listening to Larissa and nod occasionally. I've always been a daydreamer. I find myself drifting off into random thoughts.

Once everyone has been served it's time to eat. I pick up the food carefully with my knife and fork, being as polite as possible. I got taught how to 'eat properly' when I was younger and I do it without realising now. All of a sudden I hear a really strange sound. Almost like a cough... But weirder. I look around and see Ruel, struggling to eat, his face shriveled up in disgust, swallowing bitterly.
"I'm guessing you've never tried caviar like this," I say, trying not to laugh.
"How can you eat this?" he exclaims dramatically, choking slightly.
"It's awful but you get used to it," I reply, fighting against the corners of my mouth that tease a grin.
"I would hope so," he laughs. He looks absolutely ridiculous. Like he's just eaten an extremely sour candy or a super spicy chilli or something. I notice a few people around the table giving him disapproving looks. No wonder Larissa mentioned this is his first event like this.

A few minutes later he has successfully shoved his whole plate of food in his mouth, and so have I.
"See? Wasn't too bad at the end," I say, giggling a little.
"That's debatable," he replies, "But you're right, it did get better."
"Get to know me and you'll realise that I'm always right," I say, grinning. It's true though. Most of the time.
"How can I? I didn't even catch your name," he says.
"It's Parker," I reply, "I don't know what my mother was thinking when she named me. We're Latino-American, so it totally came out of nowhere."
"My name's unusual too," he says, "Who on earth would name their kid Ruel? My mum I suppose."
I giggle.
"So what brings you to New York fashion week?" I ask.
"Just career stuff really. I some how managed to get sponsored and here I am. How about you?" he answers.
"I'm a model. It's my job to be here," I say, shrugging.
"So you do this a lot? Eat strange food and socialise with celebrities?"
"I guess so. But don't say it like that. That makes me sound uninteresting. I do all the glamorous stuff like walk down the runway in some wild outfit too you know."
"Of course, of course," he says, mocking my accent. We both laugh.

Before I know it the dinner is nearly over. It's crazy. They never usually go this fast. I have been talking to Ruel all evening, he's actually a really nice, genuine guy, which is pretty rare to find in this industry.
"So," Ruel says, clearing his throat. All of a sudden he looks nervous and his playful tone is replaced with one much quieter; "I was wondering, do you maybe want to... I don't know... join me for lunch tomorrow?"
My heart stops. My voice catches in my throat. My head is rushing with thoughts and doubt and then suddenly it's like I'm seeing him again for the first time. His messy brown curtains. His dreamy emerald eyes. His perfect jawline. Why am I only just realising how hot he is?
"Sorry that was a stupid question. Forget I asked-" he starts to say but I cut him off.
"No. It's not a stupid question. Of course I 'want to join you for lunch tomorrow," I say, mocking his accent for the last part. His delicate complexion curves into a smile. And just like that, I'm catching feelings.