Page 123 of Call Me Sir

A blush creeps to my cheeks and we walk down the red carpet hand in hand, thankfully all the way past the paparazzi and we pass amazing pieces of art, no longer in the spotlight.

We enter the massive room and join Tony, Bella, Kahlid and his girl and Rumi.

Kahlid introduces me to his girl, her name is Amelia since they gravitate to other people easily. Which is fine by me because there’s so much going on.

Trays of drinks are brought around and I don’t hesitate to grab the bubbling drink. Anything to get rid of the headache of earlier.

Tony shuffles over to me, hand tight around Bella’s.

“This is insanity!” he says.

Bella’s eyes are bugged out and all she does is nod.

I hate to admit that I can relate to her expression. The smile on my face is definitely forced.

There are too many people here, my tuxedo is suffocating me and Sal is like a different person. He’s so… calm. Isn’t he the one who’s supposed to be freaking out?

Chugging my drink, Tony giggles as a little escapes down my face.

“Same,” Bella says, following suit.

There’s a tapping on my shoulder and I’m grateful thinking it’s Sal telling me we can leave.

Instead, it’s Oliver and Ace. Ace and Sal are chatting like old buddies.

“How are you?” He asks, wrapping me in a hug.

There are a few flashes and it makes me drop my glass.

“Shit,” I mutter, bending down to try and pick up the broken pieces.

Oliver hoists me to my feet. “Don’t worry about it. Someone will come sweep it up.”

Within a minute, someone is sweeping it up. What is this place?

“I know it’s overwhelming,” he says. Then to Tony and Bella he holds out his hand. “Hi, I’m Oliver.”

“OH MY GOD!” Tony says, taking his hand and shaking it really hard. “I cannot believe I finally get to meet you!”

I’d be embarrassed, but the alcohol is hitting really nicely.

Oliver pulls his hand away and offers it to Bella.

In one floppy maneuver she shakes his hand and pulls it close to her.

“I don’t know how you do this all the time,” I admit, my head swimming.

I reach out to another tray and they stop to hand me a second drink.

“I mean, I spent a lot of time hiding in the bathroom,” he says, grabbing a drink for himself.

We both slam our drinks, which makes me hiccup.

“Dancing helps too. Wanna go to the dancefloor together?”

“Sure!”

Normally, dancing isn’t my thing. Tonight isn’t normal though. I’ve been thrown to the wolves. My nerves calm as we weave onto the crowded dance floor where there’s guests with multicolored hair, some with buzzed hair and people with piercings and a few men in dresses.

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