The Boy Who Couldn't Forget Ellis

Ellis: You Ruined NYC For Me

Chapter Eight

You Ruined NYC For Me

Ellis

"Do you think this is too much?"

I slipped my feet into a pair of classic strappy Valentino pumps I've had since high school, then brushed my straight coal-black hair off my face and tied it loosely at the nape of my neck with a narrow black velvet ribbon before turning around for Frankie and Astrid to inspect me.

"No, you look like the perfect girl to be introduced to," Astrid told me as she plucked a Laduree macaron and popped it into my mouth, making use of one of the many gifts Jared had presented to me while we were visiting his parents in New York. "His parents are gonna love you, Els. You're Harvard pre-med, how could they not?"

My stomach twisted at her mentioning Harvard, my mind flashing at all my failing grades this whole first year. I stifled it at the back of my mind and turned back to the massive gilded mirror to examine my reflection.

I was wearing the patented high-school pre-Jem Ellis Chan outfit: a three-ply grey cashmere sweater tucked inside a straight black vintage Chanel skirt that ended just below the knee, paired with a pearl choker I inherited from my mother. It was appropriate for the occasion- which was meeting Jared's East Coast WASPy New Yorker parents for the first times. My skin was doing especially good- since I took a visit to the Elizabeth Arden's counter at Saks yesterday so I didn't need much makeup except for a flush of pink cream blush on my high cheekbones, a coat of understated brown mascara from Lancome and a nude lip gloss.

My hands shook with nerves and trepidation as I rolled a bit of Chanel No.5 behind my ears. I had achieved everything pre-Jem Ellis wanted- dating a boy from the Ivies with a respectful blue-blood background and a trust-fund. I should be brimming with joy that my ultimate fifteen-year-old schoolgirl fantasy was being fulfilled and yet I couldn't help be filled with the kind of dread reserved for prisoners of wars marching to their deaths.

"You look like The Ivory Girl," Frankie joked though her smile didn't reach her eyes. Her arms were folded as she leaned against the walls of the suite Jared booked for us. The suite was elegantly decorated in an understated pale wood, the only burst of colour coming from the fuchsia orchids on the console table against the mirrored wall.

"Are you sure you guys don't mind me leaving you guys for the night?" I asked.

"Of course not! I'm taking Frankie to this underground party tonight," Astrid chimed cheerfully. "It'll be exciting! God, I wished Calista was back here in New York. It would've been such a cute reunion with the girls from high school."

I agree. I thought to myself. While Frankie had been somewhat of a stand-in for the absence of Calista to my summer trip to New York, I found myself missing my blonde snarky best friend of the past. When I had announced to my friends I would be visiting New York with Jared in the summer, I had massive hopes of reuniting with my high school friends but Calista, unfortunately, had dropped out of college to move back home after her father's death to help with her family. I understood why Calista couldn't make it to see me but still, having her here on this trip would've definitely helped a little.