𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐧𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

1:3

Friday was here and Gracie and I had been preparing ourselves the entire day. She called in sick to work specifically for the night and that alone let me know how badly she wanted to go to the event. Gracie would strategically save her sick days for concerts only, but this was apparently a big exception.

It was a cool spring night and although the weather called for rain, it was holding off. Neither of us wanted to carry an umbrella, so we were crossing our fingers. As we were walking near the front of the building, I saw a long line that stretched halfway down the sidewalk. Interlinking arms, Gracie and I walked up with confidence to the doorkeeper standing at the entrance and told him our names. A single nod as a response, he stepped aside and held the glass door open for us.

As soon as we set foot in the building, the overwhelming sound of some alternative song blaring through giant speakers hit us. It was loud enough that it shook the plexiglass windows. The room was lit up with purple colored lighting that gave off a cool ambience. People were quite literally rubbing shoulders, crammed together in the room, all with a glass of something in their hand. It was a scene that looked more like a club, except in a room filled with art.

I looked over at Gracie, who was smiling enthusiastically from ear to ear. She raised her voice, as we stepped further inside. "Not quite what I was expecting for an art gallery opening, but I'm not complaining."

I leaned into her ear, "I'm going to go find us some drinks. Priorities!"

She gave me a nod while her wide eyes took in the lively scene. The room was small and cramped and smelled of fresh paint. People stood together in clusters, chatting and drinking from glasses. In a failed attempt, I raised my head to try and peer over the tops of people's heads. I sighed out of frustration before I began inching my way through the people in attendance. It wasn't easy, but one thing that I noticed was how fashionable the people in attendance were.

I knew that I was comparing myself to every person in the room, but I couldn't help myself - I had the feeling that I stood out like a fish out of water. I felt enormously underdressed, like I didn't have an authentic sense of style. I could already see myself when I got back home, throwing each untasteful article of clothing I ever owned out of my closet. My simple black above knee slip dress with a black leather jacket wasn't cutting it here amongst others who wore more extravagant things. Big fur coats, wildly stylish put together ensembles, and makeup that looked more like art. I was slightly more thankful that Gracie's five minute convincing to smoke out my eyeshadow and liner wasn't exactly for nothing.

I finally managed to maneuver my way to the back of the room and found a server holding a silver platter with champagne flutes. I took two, fighting the urge to take one more for myself.

When I got back to Gracie, I noticed she was talking to someone. It was Noel, dressed hardly recognizable. He was sporting an all black outfit complete with a black feathery coat, his signature skinny jeans, and black leather boots. The only thing that had color was his camel brown cowboy hat, which sat on top of his perfectly tousled hair. My heart practically leaped out of my chest when I laid eyes on him.

"There she is!" He held his arms open for me as I walked over, a beaming smile on his face. "Thanks so much for coming, you don't know how much it means to me." His voice was chipper and he spoke loud enough for me to hear him over the music. I felt him press a kiss on the top of my head as he hugged me.

"Don't be silly, I know how important this was for you! I wouldn't have missed it for anything."

"You look divine tonight by the way," he spoke into my ear. The warmth of his breath dancing over my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

I handed Gracie her flute of champagne and threw my head back to take a long sip from mine, once Noel had released me from his embrace. The three of us observed a whimsical art piece that hung on the wall behind us, which was composed of pink and white mosaic tiles. The figure was indistinct and difficult to make out amid the identical colored tiles. "His hair is shaped quite odd, isn't it?"