Page 130 of Last Letters to Ara
Elephant shit.
Granny panties.
Getting a pap smear.
Theo chuckles when he spies the Converse hidden beneath my layers of skirt. I feel his fingers graze over my ankle and make quick work of the shoelaces. Thank the fucking Lord that I shaved my legs this morning.
“All tied up,” Theo says, emerging from beneath my dress with a smile.
Theo straightens, eyes meeting mine once more. They’re a dark, stormy green, no doubt from imagining what else he could be doing underneath my skirts. If I’m lucky, it won’t be too long before I get to find out exactly what that was.
“Shall we?” he asks while offering me his arm.
“We shall.” I take Theo’s arm in mine, and we walk to my door.
• • •
Peering out of the door to the shiny black stretch limo that Theo’s father insisted on us taking, I might as well be peering out of a portal into another world. I can hardly see through the chaos of flashing lights, which I shortly realize are camera flashes…from paparazzi.
Papa-fucking-razzi.
My stomach drops as I notice the color of the carpet I’m about to step onto.Red.
I pray no one is looking as I stick my Converse out of the car, coming down on the red material, which isn’t nearly as soft or plush as I would have imagined. I send up another prayer that there is no mud on the bottom of these bad boys.
Theo is at my side, wrapping my arm back through his as he begins to lead the way into the fancy Downtown Tampa hotel which is hosting the ball.
“What. The. Fuck,” I mumble without even opening my mouth.
“Surprise!” Theo says weakly from his spot next to me. If it wasn’t for the endless eyes and cameras on us, I would make damn well sure that he knows how I feel about surprises. That is until I see his face, sucking the irritation right out of me.
Theo looks paler than I’ve ever seen. His usual care-free attitude has been replaced by a worried brow and stiff posture. There is no easy smile or smirk to drive me insane. For once there is no banter. Theo is standing next to me as a solid shell.
Right. Theo’s piece of shit father is somewhere around here, waiting to terrorize his son. He will no doubt be holding the donations over Theo’s head the entire night to generate his own sick pleasure.
I sidle in closer to Theo until our sides are pressed together, my warmth flowing into his. I squeeze his arm with mine, just to remind him that I’m here. He looks down at me, gratitude filling his eyes.
Thankfully, Theo doesn’t stop for any photographs, much less to speak with any of the reporters yelling his name to get a statement. My stomach flips as I hear someone yell, “Mr. Carter, who is your guest this evening?”
I focus all my attention on putting one foot in front of the other. The last thing Theo needs is being tagged in a flurry of photographs with the idiot who managed to take a tumble in Converse.
We finally escape the lights into a dimmed room, decked out in expensive decorations and full of bodies sporting diamonds and Botox. It’s all extremelyGossip Girl.
“So, uh, that was something.”
“Yeah.”
“The tiny little details of red carpets and paparazzi must have slipped your mind.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I hate this side of my life.”
I reach up and touch his face, not liking the tone his voice has taken one bit. “Let’s get through tonight for the artists.”
He grabs my hand. “Thank you. I couldn’t get through this without you.”
“You must find some way to reward me.” I lift up to my toes, softly pressing my lips to his.
“How about some mini cheeseburgers?”
