Page 58 of Save You
“The caterers arrived ten minutes ago and they’re setting up next door,” Kieran says before he sees me.“Hi.I’m Kieran.You must be Ember.”He holds out his hand and I take it on autopilot.I glance at Ruby in confusion.I’d assumed that nobody here at this school would know about me or our family, seeing that Ruby’s always made such a massive mystery of Maxton Hall at home.I thought she was really strict about keeping her school and home lives apart on both sides.So it’s a bit surprising that this boy knows my name.
“Nice to meet you, Kieran,” I say.
When Kieran lets go of my hand, he smiles at Ruby and his cheeks flush unmistakably.
Aha.
Clearly Ruby has more than one admirer at this school.I’m not surprised that she hasn’t mentioned it to me.Ruby practically never speaks about her feelings.I sometimes wonder how she can exist like that without exploding.I could never bottle up my emotions—either positive or negative—the way she does.If I don’t like a thing, I say so.Loudly.When I’m happy, you can tell.Ruby is way more controlled than me, and much less impulsive.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice Ruby and Kieran walking over to the stage.I hurry after them, but all they do is spend ten minutes talking about everything they have to remember this evening.I sneak a glance around, but Ruby keeps darting looks at me like she’s afraid I’ll take the first opportunityI get to throw myself into the arms of some random Maxton boy.I wonder how long it’ll take for her to relax a bit, or else to be too busy to watch my every step like a hawk.
When the gala finally officially begins, I’m sitting at a half-empty table right at the back, so that I can hardly see what’s happening on the stage.These are the events team’s seats, Kieran explains a little later, and there are indeed a handful of people who turn up at irregular intervals, sit down for a bit and have a drink, and then leap up three minutes later and vanish again.
Right now, there’s a young man talking about depression and how it was only thanks to the Family Center that he got through it.It’s a very moving speech and everyone is under his spell.I can see a few people dabbing their eyes with fine handkerchiefs, while others nod, frowning deeply.Beside me, Kieran too seems absorbed.
“Hey,” I whisper.“I’m going to get a drink.Want anything?”
“I’ll come with you,” Kieran says, instantly moving to get up.
“Don’t worry.”I wave him to sit back down.“I’ll be fine.Do you want anything though?”
Kieran hesitates a moment, his eyes darting from me to the speaker and back, then he shakes his head.“No, thanks.”
I nod and walk to the bar, where one of the waiters smiles politely and asks me what I’d like to drink.
“Champagne, please,” I say, as if it’s no big deal, but either he can see that I’m only sixteen—nearly seventeen!—or they’ve been told not to serve alcohol to anyone school-age.Either way, he slowly shakes his head.
I sigh.Looks like I have no choice but to try the kiddies’ punch on the buffet table next to the bar.I pick up one of the prettycrystal glasses, hold it up to the light, and watch the kaleidoscope-like spots of light dancing around the room in soft colors.
As I start to ladle punch from the big bowl into my glass, thunderous applause rings out around the room.Seems like the speech is over.
I take a few steps to one side so as not to block the way for anyone else heading for the table.
“Hey, beautiful,” says a voice close beside me.
I freeze.Then I grit my teeth.
This isn’t the first time I’ve been spoken to like that.There are a few boys in my year who laid bets on who could chat me up the fastest—just as a joke, obviously.
I immediately shut down and turn, glass in hand.
There’s a young man standing there.He has a handsome, attractive face; full lips, and eyes so dark they almost look black; and such curling lashes that I could be quite jealous.He’s a little taller than me, his hair is short and wavy, and there’s a hint of stubble on his face.Like most men here, he’s wearing a tailor-made suit but looks way less neat and tidy than everyone else.His tie is a bit loose, and his black jacket is unbuttoned.I get the impression that he’s gone to a lot of effort to look this messy.Like he’s been to too many of these things and is bored of them now.
He’s probably only speaking to me because he’s bored.
I look around as discreetly as possible.Usually in these situations, there’s a group of lads standing a few feet away, enjoying a laugh at my expense.But nobody seems to be watching, which makes me even more suspicious.
“Hello,” I reply, my voice hard and dismissive, the mirror image of my emotions.
The guy looks me over from head to toe, his eyes resting a little too long on the low neckline of my dress.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he continues, looking me in the eyes again.And as his mouth slowly curls into a smile, something clicks into place.
I know this boy.
OK, I don’tknow-him-know-him, but I follow him on Instagram.His handle is @kingfitz, but I know that his real name is Wren Fitzgerald.His feed is full of luxury, parties, and girls, and his stories are full of selfies and videos where he’s half naked and apparently half asleep.But I don’t buy it.Nobody could look that good if they’d only just woken up.
“Probably because I don’t go to Maxton Hall,” I reply, sipping from the glass.My mouth feels dry and my heart is beating kind of fast.Why the hell do I care that this lad is flirting with me?
