It was the engagement party of the year, and champagne hung in the air like golden mist. It seemed that every noteworthy person in Charleston had come to meander about on the terrace of James Goodnight, the fiancé of my great aunt, Carolyn. A comfortable buzz of gossip and storytelling echoed off the marble pillars that trapped guests in their sovereign prison, forced to laugh under twinkling lights and a canopy of trees.
I, however, had tolerated enough small talk from wealthy strangers. I leaned on my elbows against the stone balcony, gazing up at the moon. Why did I even bother to come? Why did I put on this silly black dress, these obnoxious red heels, and get my hopes up about how this evening would go? With a final, admittedly dramatic sigh, I turned around to face the mingling partygoers once again -but all I saw was a pair of crystal eyes.
My breath caught in my throat. Leaning against the sliding glass door was a man in a fitted navy suit, his crisp, white shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a protruding collarbone and his bare chest. He stood on the opposite side of the reception, yet he felt far too close for everyday breathing. I swallowed heavily and, realising I hadn't blinked since I turned around, batted my eyelashes a few times. The man winked with a sly smirk, then joined a group near him to exchange pleasantries. I exhaled heavily. Had I been holding my breath the whole time? And more importantly, was he looking... And winking, at me?
Who even was he?
"Clara, dear, so good to see you!"
Here we go again. I turned to face an elderly woman in an overly-sequined shirt.
"Oh, hello-"
Damn, what was her name?
"... Ma'am! Good to see you as well."
You can never go wrong with polite recognition of authority. The conversation dragged on from here, as usual. Yes, college was going great. No, I didn't have a boyfriend. Yes, I think I've grown, too!
