I’m texting Wyatt, we keep in contact all the time, I just send random updates about my daily life. I have this overwhelming urge to just share every silly little thing; if I see a pretty cloud I take a picture and send it to Wyatt, if the lunch at the campus cafeteria is bland I tell him, if Becca is being annoying, and let’s face it- she always is, that’s right, you guessed it: I whine about it to Wyatt. I never knew I could think about someone else so much, Wyatt is constantly on my mind.
I’m typing: “I miss youu”, to Wyatt right as my phone rings. It’s my mother. Ugh, what does she want now? But even a call from my mother can’t dampen my mood, so I answer the call uncharacteristically brightly.
“Hi mom!”, I catch myself and bring it down a notch, “What’s up?”.
“Hello darling, I was just calling to make sure you’re aware of the charity fundraiser gala this weekend.”, my mother says and before I can reply she goes on, “Your father and I expect you to be present, as it is related to the ‘Keep the ocean clean’-campaign you participated in with us. This time, we do expect you to be in full health, though, so that you won’t leave unexpectedly like last time.” She says that last part in a knowing and disapproving tone. She’s of course referring to the beach clean up event, as I did tell them I left because I felt sick, not that either of them bought that apparently. The real reason of course being my hook up with Wyatt, but that’s not something you want to share with your parents. She must think I left because I couldn’t be bothered with the cleaning, which admittedly sounds like something I would do.
“Some of the volunteers from that event have also been invited, I think they’re around your age, it’s a good opportunity for you to make some connections.” My mother continues on. Wait… does that mean Wyatt’s invited? The cogs in my mind are turning. Then this event will be worth it. It’s almost like a proper date! We’ll get to dress up and go to a fancy event together. Fun!
“Sounds like fun! See you there mom!”, I say excitedly, my mother must be a bit taken aback by my attitude, I’m sure she was expecting me to sound bored at best.
.
The rest of the week goes by in a flash. I’m getting ready for the gala, it feels nice to get dolled up properly, it feels like I’m actually going to go on a date with Wyatt for the first time. All our secret dates so far have been at my place or in the library, which means we haven’t really gotten dressed up for them. Of course, we’ll still have to be discreet at the event so it’s not an actual proper date, but at least it’s fun to go somewhere else for a change. I know my way around events like these, so I know how to sneak away for some alone time. Besides, we won't have to be too sneaky as the guestlist mostly consists of rich strangers who don’t go to our university and they’ll be too busy feeling charitable and important to pay us much attention anyway.
I’m wearing a dress designed specifically for this event, hand tailored to fit me, it probably cost more than what some of the guests will donate tonight. I’m standing around, waiting for Wyatt, while trying to look like I’m not waiting for anyone. I take a sip of my champagne, but almost choke on it when I see Wyatt walk in. He looks nervous, but he’s dressed up. It’s the first time I see him dressed up. He looks good. I can’t help myself, I can’t keep my eyes off him. When he sees me he stops in his tracks, jaw dropping, I think it’s safe to say we both like what we see. Later when we’ve managed to sneak away to a more private corner of the event, we tell each other as much.
“You clean up nice”, I smile at Wyatt. He blushes at my compliment. I’m fixing the collar of his tuxedo when I notice the tag is still on it. He must have forgotten to rip it off, I think to myself. I tuck in the tag discreetly not wanting to embarrass him by pointing it out, besides it’s kind of cute that he bought a new tuxedo for this date- that’s-not-quite- a-date. It’s not a very expensive tuxedo, I can tell, but at least he put in some effort. Somehow he looks good to me even in cheap materials, he could be dressed in a burlap sack and I still wouldn’t be able to keep my eyes off him, I suspect.
We can’t stay glued only to each other all night, so we soon find the other volunteers from the beach clean up event to mingle with. We are standing around quite close to a photowall that guests can get photographed in front of, or more like show-off in front of, I keep wishing I could get a picture with Wyatt, not to show-off, but to have as a memory.
“You keep glancing at the photowall. Can’t stay away from the cameras for a minute, can you?”, one of the other volunteers jokes.
“Who can blame her, though, the cameras love her!”, another points out.
“I wish I looked as good in pictures as you Audrey”, yet another one says, not sure if she means it or if she’s just trying to suck up to me, but I smile politely at them all anyway. Faking a few chuckles at their boring attempts to engage me in conversation. But speaking of the photowall gives me a brilliant idea.
“Oh, stop it! I’m so much prettier in person, don’t you think?”, I play along, “but if you insist”, I joke. They laugh along. “I guess we should all take a group picture together”, I suggest. This way, if I stand next to Wyatt in the photos, I can just edit the rest of them out and I get my picture with him like I wanted.
Squeezing into a group photo also just happens to be a good excuse to be close to one another. My smiles in pictures are usually forced and fake as can be, but the one on my face as the photographer asks us to smile, is genuine.
At the end of the night when I leave the gala, I’ve had maybe one too many glasses of champagne, so I feel a bit tipsy, but I had a nice time and that’s all that matters. I fall asleep with a smile on my face, it’s been like that since Wyatt and I started dating.
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