Page 109 of Maybe You

TWENTY-TWO

I feel ridiculous and ridiculously out of place, so the scales are very much out of balance on every front.

The gala is being held in some sort of extravagant over-the-top expensive hotel that has a ballroom in it. An actual room that people refer to as a ballroom. Unironically.

It blows the mind.

There are chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, excessive amounts of candles and flowers everywhere, and a big band playing on stage.

So far, I’ve had a conversation with Quinn’s mother, which feels a bit surreal since she’s hands down one of the most famous people I’ve ever met, and I’ve seen plenty of her movies over the years. Quinn looks a lot like her, with the same dark hair and blue eyes.

I’ve shaken hands with her husband, the Vice President.

They’re both very nice and very welcoming, and yet I still feel ridiculous in my tux and the shoes I borrowed from Sutton. Like a kid playing dress up.

But Sutton is practically glued to my side. A small part of me figured this was his crowd and that he’d have people fighting for his attention. They are, but he still doesn’t leave my side.

His arm is either wrapped around my waist, or he’s standing so close that my shoulder is pressed against his. And I can’t even really feel like just arm candy, because he also introduces me and tells people all the basic get-to-know-you details about where I work and what I’m studying before he includes me in all the conversations.

It’s a lot of interaction for somebody who’s essentially spent the last decade of his life as a hermit, so an hour and a half in, I’m exhausted.

“I’m gonna go get another drink,” I murmur in Sutton’s ear when an older couple approaches us. There are two types of people at this party: Ones who make Sutton go tense, albeit in a subtle, barely noticeable way. And ones he seems to genuinely like. He’s charming with all of them and finagles donations out of them like a pro, but there’s an air of unease that surrounds him every now and then. The couple headed our way right now seem to be the kind of people he likes.

“I’ll come with you,” Sutton says immediately, but I wave him off.

“I’ll be fine. Do you want anything?”

“More alcohol,” he says immediately. “Doesn’t matter what kind.”

I laugh and head toward the bar. Once there, I wait for my turn. My gaze moves over the dance floor before it returns to Sutton again. He’s now deep in conversation with the man and the woman, laughing at something that’s being said.

“He’s always been good at that.”

I jerk in surprise at the voice from my left and whip my head to the side.

Quinn’s standing right next to me. I’m honestly not even sure how he got there.

“Good at what?” I ask.

“Being a charming motherfucker.”

I nod, my eyes back on Sutton. I imagine he has.

The bartender approaches, and Quinn holds up two fingers. The guy quickly pours two glasses of something and slides them toward us. Quinn hands one of them to me. The bartender immediately takes off, so I resign myself to waiting some more.

“Have you been outside yet?” Quinn asks me.

“I… didn’t know there was an outside to go to.”

He tips his chin to the left. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

I grab my drink and follow him. He takes me through a short hallway and then pushes open a door on the right.

“It’s usually a rooftop bar,” he says as he steps outside in front of me, “but it’s closed today for obvious reasons.”

Outside, there’s a large balcony with wooden tables and outdoor sofas. White balls of light have been strung overhead, and there are plants everywhere. But the most spectacular part is the view of the city. Quinn takes a seat on one of the sofas, and I sit down opposite him on another sofa.

“Where’s Steph?” I ask.

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