No matter how much she runs, Laura is stuck in an endless loop of her past. With a transfer of school and a curly-haired boy who seems to be wherever she goes, it's a matter of time she realizes that her universe ceases at the sight of him-and runni...
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EVAN PARKER HAD SOME NERVE.
Backstage was supposed to be different. We were supposed to be able to walk up to the artist because we were friends—not be shoved behind in an imaginary line that knew no end. And here we were, bouncing on our feet and impatient, tiredness hanging upon us like dusted mist.
And the talk of the day did drop us a visit. Twice, actually. He'd hurried to us but had only spoken a maximum of five words to Xavier. Ciara had called him out, and he'd listened. Chloe had something to say, to which he'd laughed. I waited, in hopes that this was it, the finale of the night, and that he would return to us soon.
He never did. It did not help that he dropped me no glance. Not even once. I just wanted to talk, and yet—he ignored me as if I had committed a felony against him.
Perhaps there had been a million things running through his mind. I had to cut him some slack. He'd just performed, and his face was starting to show the exertion with the way his brows pulled and lips frowned. I gave him time, of course. On the second visit, he told Leo something. It was shorter than the brief time he'd spent with us before, barely a minute to justify if his presence was even real in close-up.
Then, the unthinkable happened. Alexander Parker, Evan's dad, stood in front of everything and everyone, poise overshadowing and voice ringing past people shuffling around him. He put a firm arm around his son's shoulder—one which visibly made the latter uncomfortable—and with baring teeth, he spoke, "We cannot end the night without celebrating my son's successful endeavours so far." Evan looked just as shocked as us."Please join us for tonight's gathering, everyone. The night is still young."
I had no clue. And by the time Mr Parker had dismissed his abrupt address to the crowd, Xavier had taken a step forward. "I'm going to go talk," he motioned towards Evan, who was now leaning to the side as his father conversed with a man in a perfect tuxedo. When did these business-like people even get here?
Raymond sighed. "I was ready to go home, but I guess not."
"Don't be too sure," Stella drifted her eyes to the cynosure of the room. "I don't think we're invited. What would a bunch of kids do at their business-centred gathering, anyway?"
Unease lined at the seams, a suffocating layer above my skin. I wasn't exhausted out of my mind yet, but no part of me wanted to go to a "party" which would just make me feel dumber and poorer than the rest. I was sure all of us felt the same.
Xavier's head bopped between us all of a sudden, and I almost fell. "Jesus," I held a palm to my heart, but he'd already apologized. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. As for us...," he paused. "We're invited, but Evan says it's for us to decide if we want to go or not." From the corner of his eye, he dropped Evan another glance and then ran a hand through his hair. "I will be."
