When Friday night arrives and I have finally gotten through the gruelling process of getting myself ready, I find myself tempted to retreat back home for a night of relaxation and solitude. But my conscious would never allow for that, so after days of extra hours of stress at work and a strenuous day today I am going to a Christmas party instead of getting under my bedsheets.

I only have myself to blame, I tell myself as I stare out the windscreen of my car whilst a torrent of rain falls over the Upper East Side. Due to both my indecision and slow pace in getting ready, as well the traffic this weather has caused, I'm running a bit late for the party but hopefully it'll be okay. Surely there isn't too strict of a time restriction set on when it is acceptable to show up to a Christmas party.

Twenty minutes pass with me attempting to weave myself through the jammed streets of the city and the guilt begins to grow as I imagine how Damon would just be standing there waiting for me, possibly thinking he's been stood up. But my navigator says that I'll reach my destination in five minutes so I pray that it is actually correct for once tonight and that he won't be waiting too much longer.

The navigator is proven right when I show up exactly five minutes later to the waterfront building that holds the venue which tonights festivities will be held in. I leave my car with the free valet, the presence of a valet being a helpful perk  in this lavish world the Harrington's and such lived in.

Thankfully, the spot where the valet had awaited was covered above so it prevents me from being drenched by the rain which has overcome the city. Nonetheless, once I enter the lobby  I instantly move in front of the mirror that I spy on the wall from the corner of my eye to check that I look presentable.

I seem to have maintained the look which I had worked so hard and long for, the soft woven fabric of my black dress not too crinkled from all of my scurrying around and the drive here, even if it is just under a coat. I subtly look around the lobby to spy if anyone else is around, confirming that no one is so that I could quickly adjust my bust so that it was sitting properly for the V neckline that the dress featured.

The fitted silhouette and V neckline all proved to be a little more revealing than I regularly go for or had planned, especially considering that I had put on a pound or two to fill in the dress since I had last worn it. However, when messaging Damon earlier in the day he had recommended I wear something quite formal, a recommendation which proved necessary once I research the setting of tonights festivities.

This was one of the few things I had in my wardrobe that was both formal and not waiting to be dry-cleaned, my inability to maintain a full wardrobe of clean clothing clearly a recurring issue. Plus, I had my trusty coat with me to conceal myself with once again, yet another recurring theme. Also, why not spice up my outfit for once?

Once I'm sure all of me is contained within my dress, I adjust my hair quickly before I attempt to make my way through the building to the room where Harrington & Co's Christmas party is being held. As I turn the corner where a sign has directed me, I'm met with the sight of Damon hunched over his phone as he walks around in circles in front of the door I have been led to.

He looks up as the sound of my heels alerts him, a look of relief overcoming his features.

"Ella, you're here." he says, making me feel even worse as I wonder how long he has been stressing over my arrival if he looks this relieved.

"I am so sorry. Traffic was so horrible. I didn't anticipate it and now I'm so late and I feel horrible." I explain to him with regret injected into my tone.

"Ella, it's fine. I'm just happy you're here," he tells me as he greets me with a kiss on the cheek, "You look beautiful." he compliments me once he moves back and has a chance to observe my appearance.

"Thank you," I respond, "You look quite dapper yourself."

He's dressed in a black suit with a burgundy shirt beneath his jacket and his ebony hair slicked over quite firmly with gel. Our outfits actually compliment each other quite well but I suppose that does tend to happen when you wear black.

"Oh thanks, I try." he replies in a joking manner as he moves beside me to offer his arm to link mine through, preparing to lead the way to the party.

I don't want to reject him, even if I don't want us to seem too intimate when we walk in and give off the wrong impression to people as though we haven't been on only one date. So that leaves me to link my arm through his as he opens the doors waiting before us and walks us in.

"Wow." I say as I look around the expansive and open room before us.

Chandeliers cascade from the coffered ceiling, adding light to the strange atmosphere the weather has created outside the glass adorned walls. The rain has subsided just enough to be able to see the mesmerising view of the water that is enhanced by the addition of the rain, as the body of water almost glimmers with movement. Tall bar tables fill the room accompanied by stools and the presence of waiters walking around with canapés.

Damon leads me to one of these tables where I can finally indulge myself with some delicious treats to subside my hunger thanks to the waiter walking past at that moment. One second I'm taking an arancini off the platter and the next it is completely devoured as I guiltily await for the waiters return.

My search for a nearby waiter allows me to observe the room further, revealing that majority of tonight's attendants were a bit older than Damon and myself; for the most part being in their forties or fifties if I had to guess. This wasn't much of a surprise considering we were currently at an event for a development firm and it would usually take some time to get high enough in a firm to be invited to something like this. I am surprised that I don't see a certain British "friend" of mine, but put it off to the room being quite full. 

A waiter comes by once again, unfortunately not accompanied with food this time, with flutes of champagne to offer us. I quickly grab one for myself, not the best decision on what was essentially an empty stomach, unconsciously avoiding a repeat of the circumstances through which I had first met Damon.

Damon takes a flute for himself and raises his up to mine to says "cheers" before we both take a sip.

"So how long have you been working for the company for?" I ask, curious about this job he seems so dedicated to.

"I think it'd be around four years now. I got lucky. I managed to score an internship with them when I was still at college and that way I had some connections when I wanted to apply for a full time job after I graduated." he explains.

"That is a pretty good turn of events," I agree, "Though I'm sure you put in the hard work."

"Oh, I did. I messed around in my first year of college and when I nearly didn't make it through to my second year I decided I needed to stop playing around and starting putting in a lot more effort. Haven't looked back since." he tells me.

Before I can continue on with the conversation and learn a bit more about him he cuts in. "Enough about me. I should probably get you some more food before you decide to never see me again because I don't feed you enough."

The assumption of my dire need for food at this moment is accurate but I still blush in response to his comment, not aware that I was that obvious. I want to ask what gave me away and he seems to read my mind as he adds "I noticed you looking around a fair bit, I assumed you were looking for the waiters to return."

"There should be a table over there with some of the food rounded up there. Here, I'll take you there." he informs me, offering his hand to help me down from the stool in an elegant manner which doesn't expose too much of me in this dress.

He outstretches his other hand to point to the table he had told me of and, sure enough, I can just spot it in the distance. I eagerly follow him along as fast as I can in the black stilettos I'm currently wearing.

When we arrive at the table which is situated right beside the bar I thank god that I had put on Spanx tonight as I mentally devour the amazing arrangement before me. I quickly grab a few things to eat and within moments they are gone, my satisfaction increasing by the minute.

"Ella, I've just spotted someone I needed to speak to. Is it okay if I just leave you here for a short moment while I go talk? It would be incredibly short." he asks me.

"Yeah, that's fine. I might just go order a drink." I answer him as he smiles in response before heading off in the opposite direction.

Having satiated my hunger enough I look to the bar to find there is no line and a sign to announce that it is an open bar; a sure fire way to get me there quickly. I look at the drink menu on the wall and decide a nice glass of white wine would be good right now. It'll probably be my last alcoholic beverage for the night because I have to drive myself home so I make it a good one. 

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks me.

"Could I please get a glass of sauvignon blanc?" I request, to which I receive a nod in response.

I allow myself to lean against the surface of the bar to relieve some pressure from off of my feet. I scan the range of bottles which adorn the shelves on the wall before my drink finally arrives. As I begin to sip on it, I hear a male voice arrive a bit further down the bar.

"Can I get a glass of scotch?" they ask in an almost disgruntled manner.

I look to my side to see who this particular peeved individual was, curious to know who I should be avoiding tonight.

At first the five o'clock shadow he wears deters me, making me more intrigued by who this individual was. But as I continued to analyse what I could see of his face, his features and his stature, I come to a surprising conclusion.

The sullen figure who sits on the stool only a metre or two down from me looked a way that I had never seen before. And it wasn't just because he had this new length of facial hair, which I incidentally quite liked. No, it was the fact that this wasn't the usual charismatic guy which I had usually encountered and come to be familiar .

Yes, I had seen him be a little bid moody, especially when in Damon's presence, but this mood seems to be on a whole other level right. The frustration seems to be seeping out of him at this moment as he talks his rugged jaw into his hand and almost scratches at it as an outsource of his emotions. He's usual precise posture is replaced with a more hunched over one as he rests his elbows on the top of the bar and fiddles with what appears to be a toothpick between his fingers.

"Theo?"

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This and the next chapter were supposed to be one chapter but I'm just going to leave this here because damn it was starting to get really long since I was getting so much inspiration from watching the After movie teaser trailer on repeat. Plus it's currently 1am and I'm so tired but wanted to publish something. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and hopefully another chapter will come sooner than usual as a result. What in the world do you guys think is going on with Theo and how are you guys feeling about Damon?

Also, above is a picture of how I imagined Ella's dress if you wanted to take a look but feel free to imagine it as you please. 

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TheFictionDreamer

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