Authors: Mallory Hart
Angelica looked at Chris and shrugged. “I was hungry?”
Nikki laughed. “Yeah, I know not to get in the way of you and your meal. But seriously, I wanted to tell you about the guy I met last night.”
“The one you were dancing with?”
“Yeah, that’s the one,” she said dreamily. “His name is Justin and he’s a senior too, poli-sci major.”
Angelica smiled at her, happy for her friend. “You like him then?”
“He’s so incredibly sweet and funny! And he has a cute friend that wants to meet you tonight. What do you say?”
Chris looked up from his plate at his sister, then at Angelica, who bit her lip.
“Actually, I’m busy tonight,” she told her.
“You are? What are you up to?”
“Oh you know, this and that…”
Nikki furrowed her brow looking at Angelica. She had never dodged her questions before about her plans.
“Okay, well, what about tomorrow night then?”
“She’s busy then too,” Chris told her, munching on his egg sandwich.
Nikki narrowed her eyes at him, and then at Angelica. “Uh huh, is that so. Another night of ‘this and that,’ I take it.”
Angelica stared at her guiltily, her spoon full of oatmeal still in her mouth.
“What she meant was, she’s too busy to meet Justin’s friend,” Chris interjected, seeing that Angelica was at a loss for words. “Come on Angie, I’ll walk you to your class.” He picked up their finished trays of food to take to the trash.
“I’m sorry Nikki,” Angelica said in a hurry. “I do want to meet Justin though! Anytime, just name it. He seems great!”
“Let’s go,” Chris said, and Angelica got up.
“I’ll see you later after class,” Angelica told Nikki, a blush blooming on her face as she tucked her hand into Chris’s.
Nikki stared at them walk off hand-in-hand and rolled her eyes. “Eww! You have some ‘splaining to do Angie!” she called after her.
THE END
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At War with You
Chapter 1
New York City either made you fall in love or swear you’d never come back.
Natalie Rushing was leaning to the latter as she sipped a lavender-infused cocktail next to a group of chattering models.
“She’s gotten huge,” gushed a willowy blonde in poisonous glee.
Yikes. Natalie steered herself away from them and plopped down at the end of the bar to admire the other attendees of tonight’s party. Frowns rushing past one another on the sidewalk and honking taxis made a California girl feel out of her element. She was used to environments that married beauty and a fast-paced lifestyle without screaming at one another. It was more excitement than stress. Poetry readings, pop-up shops, and underground fashion showcases with tarot card readings. Her mind was already wandering to the time stamped on her boarding pass tomorrow.
But, she couldn’t deny that New York was fashion. It breathed it. While the New York girls trotted down in perfectly tailored jeans, she wore light boyfriend jeans and a classic blazer with a striped shirt she’d found in a vintage shop. Classic black pumps decorated her feet. She admired their structure, a splurge at a boutique back in LA.
Fashion was all about form. She loved it. That’s why she started a blog about it three years ago. Now, it was flourishing wonderfully. Her ad revenue from it was increasing, but it was her exposure that opened up a new career for her. People invited her to events now. She had a massive following that loved her tailored posts, detailing how women could dress for empowerment. A few magazines tapped her for monthly columns. As her planner filled up and her bank account squealed happily for the first time, she was already planning for another day.
The models from earlier were a perfect example of what she didn’t want to be. She wanted her content to be inspiring and positive. Who gave a damn about weight? There was a cut and fabric for everyone. A spike of inspiration ran through her. She drained her cocktail and asked an approaching bartender for another.
In a tiny red notebook hiding in her purse, she jotted down a few ideas for an upcoming post about not letting other people’s opinions get you down about your style and slipped it back inside as her second drink arrived. She smiled wide, a gesture she’d already been told was not very New York by a friend from college she’d caught up with at lunch today, and the bartender thankfully shot her one back.
Handsome bartender smile was enough of a victory for one night, right? Someone sat beside her with a rush of white lace.
“Are you Natalie Rushing?” A sugary voice asked.
She turned to see a petite woman with dark brown hair swept into elegant tendrils. A millennial beauty, rocking pastel hair with a bohemian vibe. The white lace ensemble reached the young woman’s toes but clung to her in the most flattering way.
“Yes,” Natalie replied with a spike of excitement. Maybe this would be her first friend tonight. “Your dress is lovely.”
“Thank you,” she said and hopped in her seat. “My name is Madeline. I just wanted to say I’m a huge fan of your blog. You actually inspired me to change my style completely.”
Natalie’s heart warmed. “Really?”
Madeline nodded enthusiastically, curls swinging as she sipped from a flute filled with a cherry-colored concoction. “I’m barely five feet. I was always wearing towering heels and short skirts to make my legs look longer, but I just wanted to dress like a hippie, you know? When I found your blog posts, it was the perfect timing. I don’t know; you made me feel like I didn’t have to dress a certain way.”
“Wow,” Natalie said in an awed tone. “That’s amazing, thank you for that. And I’m so happy for you.” Her cheeks reddened as the gratitude sunk in. “You seem awesome, Madeline. What do you do?”
“I’m from Florida, but I’m living in New York to go to design school here. I worked right out of high school, so I’m going back to school a little later than most.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” she added with a nod and sipped her cocktail. “Do you come to parties like this often?” She cast a look around the room with a hint of bashfulness. “I have to admit; LA is way different from New York. I feel like an alien.”
Madeline laughed, nearly sloshing her bright drink onto her pure linen outfit. “It doesn’t go away, trust me. I only come to these parties when I can get out of the studio. You’ll find the people who actually work rarely go out.” The last part, she added with a wink. “Want me to give you the rundown?”
Natalie nodded, and the other woman slyly dragged her eyes to the crowd. Models, photographers, fashion designers, bloggers, journalists, videographers, and more. There seemed to be a representative for each and every creative field. She felt guilty delight when Madeline confided that the models she’d been standing next to were a notorious group of mean girls who had bad attitudes.
“The hard workers,” Madeline said with a sage-like city wisdom, “They have a certain air around them, you know? You can spot them out of a crowd like this one. There’s one in particular who never comes out. I’m surprised he’s even here.”
A sudden shiver ran through Natalie as she followed the direction of Madeline’s eyes.
“That’s Oliver,” Madeline said in a sudden lowered whisper, “He’s a photographer: mega hot, super famous, and a total snob.”
Natalie’s gaze landed on a man near the balcony. He was leaned against the railing without a care in the world, flanked by a stylish middle-aged couple. The three were strategically positioned in a lone corner, several feet from the teeming nervous crowd.
Her mouth went dry. Madeline spotted her look and laughed.
“Yeah, I wasn’t kidding when I said he was hot.”
Oliver was, indeed, mega hot. Natalie had never been one for blondes, but there was a first time for everything. His dirty blonde locks pushed back to reveal a face carved by artists with sharp cheekbones and a permanent half-smile that seemed utterly wicked. The barest hint of a five o’clock shadow dotted his face, dark in contrast to the hair on his head, and further enhancing the strong lines of his face. It was his eyes that sucker-punched her, a perfect pair of light blue orbs that refused to look at the rest of the party.
“You weren’t,” she muttered and finished her second drink with a meek gulp.
Madeline grinned. “I wouldn’t be surprised to hear that he’s heard about you.”
“
Me
?” Natalie asked, mouth open.
“The woman in that couple,” Madeline said with an excited trill, “Fifi Royale. She runs an amazing gallery a few blocks away and is a badass editor for
Alone
magazine. She’s the one in charge of the invite list. Fifi loves you, by the way. I finished an internship for her a few weeks ago and showed your blog to her. Pretty sure she’s obsessed with your writing style.”
Natalie’s heart pounded. Her eyes felt like they’d roll out of her head. “Are you serious? Madeline, are you the reason I’m at this party?”
The other woman flushed. “No! Your talent is. I mean, I was happy to show her.”
Natalie stared at her. “I’m buying you all of your drinks.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that proposition,” Madeline admitted with a playful shrug of her shoulders.”
The bartender swung by them, and Natalie made good on her promise. As she did, her stomach flipped at the thought that she’d made an impression on someone without even knowing it.
“Oh shit,” Madeline cursed beside her as they faced the bar, “She’s coming over here.”
On cue, Natalie heard a clap of excitement and turned to see Fifi approaching with a beaming expression. She embraced Madeline with kisses on either side of her cheek; a gesture Madeline returned with casual ease.
“Natalie,” Fifi said in a breathy voice, fingering the string of ornate gems around her neck. “Has Madeline told you how enchanted I am with your work?”
Natalie’s mouth went dry, but her networking voice came out on cue with no trembling. “She just mentioned it. I’m so honored, Ms. Royale.”
Fifi cooed. “Oh, call me Fifi, please! Everyone does.” She cast a glance over her shoulder with quirked lips. “I have someone I’d love for you to meet, Natalie. Have you heard of Oliver Bacall?”
From the corner of her eye, Natalie spied Madeline’s mouth dropping open with glee. Natalie cleared her throat and tried to appear calm. Fifi didn’t wait for a response as her warm hand touched Natalie’s forearm and the acrylic nails beckoned her and Madeline to follow.
Walking over, Natalie became aware that a dozen sets of eyes were staring at the group. It was the kind of movement that was small, but caused a ripple of attention until most gazes pulled away out of politeness.
This was how Natalie found herself in front of Oliver, a famous photographer with those striking blue eyes that she only realized up close were icy cold.
Fifi gestured to her with an excited air. “Oliver, honey, this is Natalie Rushing. She runs a fabulous blog. And Carl,” she motioned to the man who stood next to her, “You remember Madeline, right?”
Carl and Fifi were spotting matching skull rings around their fingers. Madeline gave a polite greeting and then stared at Natalie with a pointed look.
Natalie realized she hadn’t said a word yet.
“Hello,” she said with a slow smile that unraveled with her voice. It was a tiny gesture that an ex-boyfriend once told her was mesmerizing. She’d only hoped that he’d been right. Fifi brightened. At least, it’d worked on her.
“Oliver was telling us about his latest project in the Amazon,” she said with a clap of her hands.
“Come now, Fifi,” Oliver said in a musical British accent, and a shiver rushed through Natalie at the deep rumble of his voice. “I wouldn’t want to bore these young ladies with something serious like that.”
Natalie hid her scowl. The suggestion that they were more than a few years younger than him successfully extinguished the tantalizing shiver running through her. They couldn’t be interested in the Amazon? She shifted her weight, a wave of irritation hiding behind her smile. Carl excused himself for a bathroom break downstairs, but not before shooting an amused look towards Oliver, an expression that Natalie couldn’t read.
Fifi huffed. “Oh, Oliver, sure they are.” She turned to Natalie and Madeline with a cheerful expression. “It’s a far cry from his usual fashion editorial work, but it’s gorgeous stuff.”
“When will it be released?” Natalie asked, steeling herself with bravery, as she stared at him.
His brow raised by a centimeter at her interest. “It’ll be a few months. For a very exclusive gallery.”
In other words, a gallery Natalie would never garner an invite too. His handsome smirk was equal parts infuriating and intoxicating. She swallowed the lump in her throat and felt a brush of lace at her side.
Fifi was admiring the trim on Madeline’s sleeve when she spotted that the other women’s drinks were already low. “Heavens! We’ll fix that right away. Another round on me. Madeline, will you help me carry them?”
Madeline nodded with a strained expression. She shot a nervous glance towards Natalie, who knew she was reluctant to abandon her alone with the wolf of a photographer. But, Fifi’s tug was as kind as it was firm. Natalie watched as her companion disappeared to the bar in a blur of green and white.
The weight of Oliver’s stare on the back of her neck sent beads of sweat to the surface of her skin. She cleared her throat and turned, pulling a brave face of feigned comfort.
“That exclusive gallery opening sounds fascinating,” she said, sarcasm teeming beneath the surface. His eyes flickered. “Congratulations.”
He shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
She gritted her teeth and kept up her smile. He raised one eyebrow.
“Tell me, are you terribly interested in the Amazon, Ms. Blogger? Or are you just trying to court Fifi’s favor?”
“What?” His blunt accusation stunned her. She blinked, the calm facade crumbling fast. “I’m not trying to court anyone’s favor. Not Fifi’s.” Without a thought, she tossed him a pointed look. “And certainly not that of a photographer who can’t go fifteen seconds without being rude.”
Her father had always told her that her quick tongue would get her into trouble one day. Oliver’s eyes narrowed.
“Oh dear, I’ve hurt your feelings, haven’t I?” He asked with saturated pity. “You poor thing. I just didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the others, talking about a subject that would most likely go over your head. Tell me, do you even know what country the Amazon is in?”
“Trick question. The Amazon’s territory is in a total of nine countries,” she fired back with a hostile smile. Of course, he didn’t need to know that her mother was a professor concentrated in South American studies, and they had a map of it over her parents’ dining room table.
“Correct, Ms. Blogger. Bravo.” A condescending smile was plastered on his face.
She sucked in a deep breath. Was that her new nickname? Snob was right, she thought. Fifi’s laughter approached, and she let her reply sour in her mouth as the other two women came back. Fifi handed out drinks and Carl flocked back from the bathroom.