Page 121 of Absolute Certainty
It wasn’t working.
It wasn’t normal to feel this much distress over a birthday party—her boyfriend’sbirthday party,of all people. It wasn’t normal to wonder what type of mood he’d be in and if he’d remember that they were a couple or if he’d leave her to socialize on her own. If Sahar had been an introvert, she would’ve lost it. She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like if she were like her sweet co-star, Innila, quiet and shy, only opening up to those she was comfortable around.
Sahar was one of the most extroverted people in her circle, yet she still never felt comfortable around Martin’s friends.
She spent a weekend with them in the Hamptons, and it had been the single most miserable weekend of her life. She’d faked intense cramps one night to stay behind while they’d gone out to a yacht party. The next morning, she’d done her best to play pretend, and with that, a small part of her died. They were in the same industry; it should’ve beensomewhateasy to socialize, but it’d been like pulling teeth with them.
Her eyes stung, forcing her to carefully flutter her lashes and fight back tears. She could do this.
Maybe it’d be different tonight.
Maybe he’d be less stressed.
Maybe he’d be nicer.
Drawing closer to the mirror, she picked a few pieces of fallen stray hair off her jumper. Another sharp inhale.
She bared her teeth, making sure her lipstick hadn’t transferred, and then finally, she doused her face with setting spray, letting the mist act as some sort of pixie dust.
Shecoulddo this.
Sahar glanceddown at her phone. It was barely 10 p.m., and time wasn’t passing. Martin had only spoken two sentences to her, one of them being a sneering comment about how she’d been late—by five minutes—and another his clippedthank youto her happy birthday.
After that, she’d lost him somewhere at the bar. Now seated at the reserved table in the relatively stunning lounge they’d been in, all she wanted to do was leave.
What was the point?
Chelsea—the kindest person in his circle—poked her bicep. “You’re quiet.”
Swaying the Moscow mule in front of her left and right, Sahar gave her an honest smile. “Exhausted,” she answered, a little louder now as Pitbull’s “Give Me Everything” blasted in a throwback over the speakers.
Chelsea tilted her head sympathetically and drew closer. “I don’t know how you all do it after your shows. I feel like I’d just want to sleep for days,” she voiced.
Huffing, Sahar lifted her drink to toast. Chelsea grabbed her pint and clinked. “The things we do for love,” Sahar added, hoping the sentiment didn’t come across as snarky.
But Chelsea simply grinned back. Her eyes darted across the table where her boyfriend Spencer and Martin were returning from the bar. The six other people who’d been at the bar or on the dance floor followed behind them, lost in laughter. They started sliding into the booth, closing the space that’d temporarily been Sahar’s refuge.
Instead of sitting near her, Martin let other people wriggle in while he sat at the very end. She wanted to scream. Why wouldn’t he sit next to her? It wasn’t like she washis girlfriend,of all people.
With agonizing restraint, Sahar turned to Vera, sitting beside her. “I love this top on you, Vera. It looks stunning,” she complimented genuinely. It was a gorgeous shade of teal.
The girl brought her hand to the bottom of her chin with a grin. “Thanks! Aritzia,” she added.
Sahar smiled back at her. Vera wasn’t as genuine as Chelsea, but she was a bit less stuck up than everyone else at this table, including her boyfriend.
Out of nowhere, Martin’s buddy Hank stood up and drunkenly slurred a loud toast as the table erupted in howls. Standing up to clap Hank on the back, Martin clearly appreciated the nonsensical speech he’d just gotten over anything Sahar could’ve said. She would’ve whistled, but he didn’t think it was classy that she could. Likely becausehedidn’t knowhow to, but still.
For a woman who was surrounded by all types of lights eight times a week, the remnants of the smoke machine and the disco lights from the dance floor were making her dizzy. It was too fucking loud when she was this tense. It was unpleasant when her people weren’t nearby.
Looking down at the small amount of her drink remaining, she grabbed her glass and took a swig. She needed another if time insisted on lagging.
“Ah! I love this song!” Britney screeched when some mix Sahar couldn’t even decipher came on. “We have to dance,” she bellowed, then pulled everyone up to the dance floor.
Can the DJ play The National, please?
Sahar looked over at Martin as he declined Britney’s offer.Oh.Maybe he was going to play nice? Maybe he wouldn’t be such a dick to her if they were left alone.
Chelsea tugged on Sahar’s hand for her to follow.
