Page 63 of Damaged

Why is the world like that sometimes? Some of the more easygoing guys and girls end up dating their polar opposites. The saying opposites attract doesn’t explain the science. Maybe it’s nature’s way of stopping offspring from being too extreme of one thing.

Anyway, I’m not going to complain. Two people like Alessia standing side-by-side would be a nightmare.

When everyone has arrived, I have to show face. I haven’t had James to myself all day. Not like he wants to be with me. He had his chance last night

He’s been scarce all day, even as his friends arrived.

I come down out of my room in the only dress I packed. It’s black, tight, and thankfully sexy. The spaghetti lace shoulders show enough skin. With a little blush and very light lipstick, I look good, but nottoogood. A part of me wishes I was the girl who had the confidence to go all out.

Bright-red lipstick. Chin tilted ever-so slightly up. Confident gleam in my eye. But that’s not me. I don’t like to draw fire. Especially after Alessia’s warning.

I open my bedroom door, and my insides go watery at the sound of the loud conversation downstairs. I don’t have awful social anxiety, but I’m not a butterfly, either. The blushwas strategic—this way when I’m truly blushing, it won’t be so obvious.

I walk down the stairs, breath held, and then I start to mingle. I do it well, I think. I smile and shake hands with all the new arrivals. Two of his friends are Dutch, blond, and nearly identical, but apparently, they’re not related at all.

I hear everybody’s name twice, but I still forget them immediately.

Except for Kate.

She’s dating one of the Dutch guys, the blonder of the two. She has brown hair cut in a long bob and large gray eyes that bulge out a little bug-like, but she’s still stunning. Her big eyes make her even more stunning, the longer I look at her.

She’s an alien. But a very pretty alien.

“Hi! I’m Kate,” she says.

“Sophia,” I say, smiling, and shake her hand.

“You’re James’s secretary, right?”

“I’m an assistant gallerist.”

“Oh, his assistant. Awesome. Awesome. Isn’t he such a great guy? So many rich guys in Manhattan would never invite lower-level employees to anything.”

Alessia could’ve saved her words. A better warning would’ve been to tell me to hit Kate in the face with a shovel before she could even talk.

It’s going to be a long night. I’ll just stay clear of her, but for now I play nice. “Yeah, he’s great. And how do you know him?”

“Oh, we were friends at Dartmouth. And then I ended up married to Clyde, one of his best friends.”

Are all these girls’ exes who ended up dating James’s friends?

James is standing with his hands in his pockets. He seems distant and elsewhere while Marco talks to him.

Another one of his friends, an Indian man with a thick mustache, offers his hand to me for an introduction. I take it like I’m drowning, and I turn away from Kate and put everything I have into this conversation with Ashwin.

He likes trading crop futures, but you wouldn’t think for a second that it wasn’t my new favorite thing in the world, too.

Soon, we’re outside at the table eating crab legs, and thankfully I’m seated next to Marco. Kate is on the far end of the table, closer to James.

I don’t add much to the conversation. They’re talking about places I’ve never been. People I don’t know and their big-time jobs that are very different from my own.

At least there’s melted butter to dip the crab in. When the crab first came out, I was afraid that would be considered trashy and there’d be some kind of lower-calorie alternative.

I have more than my fill. I eat until I’m stuffed and then some. I treat the crab like popcorn and crack and pluck it with my fingers while I listen to these rich folks’ conversation like a movie.

Kate and Alessia are going at it over which designer had an affair with a male model, and my eyes are darting back and forth like I’m watching a tennis match. I crack another crab leg with my fingers. It’s loud enough to stop the conversation.

“Sorry,” I say.

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