Page 63 of Nobody in Particular

“Don’t you dare,” I tell her. “Everyone will see it.”

She gives me a sheepish smile.

Not far away, mingling in the thick crowd of fancy people, I spot Rose. Rose and Alfie. Everything else fades away as soon as I do.

Rose is wearing a simple, figure-hugging dress that gathers around her waist, with her hair falling in loose curls. She looks perfect, as always. The two of them are standing with Alfie’s parents, cracking up about something. Rose’s arm is snaked tightly around Alfie’s waist. Standing on my tiptoes, I see his fingers brush against her thigh, and I look away, suddenly sick to my stomach.

A few seconds later I peek again, totally unable to help myself. I’m just in time to see Rose rest her head against Alfie’s shoulder as she listens dotingly to something Alfie’s dad is saying. Alfie says something and they all laugh. I bet he’s so fucking funny. I bet he’s charismatic as hell. I bet Rose is having thebestbirthday ever.

I tear my eyes away and follow Eleanor and Molly to one of the many food stations, which are all headed by chefs taking custom orders. We find Harriet and Florence hovering by the patisserie station, and I grab a fig Danish and force it down.

It tastes rotten.

Not long after we finish shoveling pastries into our mouths—pastries that, according to Harriet, apparently taste awesome when they’re not seasoned by jealousy—the music cuts off and the crowd bursts into murmurs and whispers as people rush to find a seat. A few Ashford guys I don’t recognize fill up the rest of our table and swivel around to face the stage, which is right by us. The king and queen, along with Rose and Alfie, climb up onto it, and when the crowd finally falls silent, the king speaks.

“Welcome, all of you. Thank you for joining us tonight as we celebrate that joyous day seventeen years ago when our future queen entered this world.”

Rose is searching the crowd with a determined eye. I take a deep breath and steady myself. I’m ready for it when her eyes meet mine. They hold my gaze, but her face stays blank.

Even if I never ended things, I wouldn’t be up there with her. Either way, I’d be down here, watching her from an invisible spot in the crowd. Only, now I get to do it without having her to myself in private, either.

“We are so proud of the humble, intelligent, talented youngwoman that Rosemary has grown to be. I think I speak for all of us when I say…”

Beside Rose, Alfie listens to the king with a rapturous expression, his hand brushing against Rose’s. Her fingers curl up to touch his palm.

I’ve never wanted to be somewhere else more than I do in this exact moment.

“We wish her all the best for her future endeavors. This girl of mine will continue to surprise all of us.…”

Rose is looking at me again. She catches me in the process of staring at Alfie like he’s a mosquito I want to swat away. Or squash. Keeping her eyes fixed on me she takes Alfie’s hand in hers and squeezes it, pressing her shoulder flush against his. Her mouth doesn’t smile, but her eyes sure do.

I might have brought this on myself, but it doesn’t make me any less hurt and angry at her. She didn’t have to punish me more. I’ve been punished enough.

When I look away, I notice Molly’s eyes drifting between Rose and me. Back and forth. I tune back in to the king’s speech right as it wraps up.

“I won’t keep you any longer. Please, continue to enjoy your night. Thank you.”

The crowd bursts into applause, then floods to return to what they were doing. I stand straight up. “I’m going to the bathroom,” I choke out to Molly before escaping.

I make it all the way through the crowd, past the edges of the room, and to the hall where the bathroom entrance is. Right before I go in, though, someone grabs my arm and stops me. Molly followed me, it turns out. “Hold on,” she says. “I think we should talk, and we won’t get any privacy in there.”

She leads me to a spot by the wall, near a tall vase of pink orchids and peonies. There’s no one close enough to eavesdrop here, and it’s loud enough that our voices won’t travel.

“Look,” she says. “I just want to know, in case I can help. Why are you and Rosemary not friends anymore? What went down?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I say.

“Really? Because you look like you’re about to cry.”

I’m about ten seconds from crying, yeah. “I’m always about to cry,” I say. “I told you, I’m stressed.”

“Even at the end of a three-week holiday?”

“Yes.”

She doesn’t look convinced. I don’t blame her. I didn’t have enough notice to prepare a good cover story here, and I’m a bad enough liar even when I am prepared. “Rose was looking at you really strangely,” she says.

“Was she?”

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