Summer of Sam // Lana Del Rey
Bella Tate, TSoP
☆ THURSDAY, MAY 31ST ☆
Thirsty Thursdays, anyone? Too bad, because your presence is requested at a fashion show and art auction, benefiting local charities throughout the Hamptons. Afterwards, there will be a black tie gala hosted at the home of Lily Desmond and Tobias St. Laurent. Dress appropriately.
I couldn't help but smirk a little as I read the list. Sure, it was still rude and inaccurate - I understood what Gatsby was hinting at, and intended to make sure that it was only a rumour and Hamish wasn't cheating on me, which I was sure he wasn't anyway - but I had moved up a spot, and Mia had moved down two. Call me petty, but it made me just a little happy to have risen above her in the rankings. Serve her right for being a frigid little b.itch.
Anyyway, I couldn't afford to waste any more time reading the list. I fired off a quick text to Lorelle about the Hamish situation, and then moved to the wardrobe and starting looking through my gowns, trying to decide what to wear. I had a fashion show and a gala to get ready for - a fashion show and a gala where Hamish would be my date, which therefore required excessive amounts of time to prepare.
Eventually, I chose a dark green velvet Gucci gown, with a v-neck that dipped as low as I dared, right down to my waistline. The extremity of the V negated the use of a bra, a fact that I was sure would please my date (boyfriend?) later on in the evening. Not that I planned to do anything special - we hadn't slept together yet, and bearing in mind my many failed relationships of the past, I kind of wanted it to be special. It was naive and cliche and soppy, but I did.
A good few hours later, having meticulously applied makeup and nail polish, and arranged every fold of my dress so that it hung just so, I was ready.
"A Mr. Bennet at the door for you, Miss," piped a voice from outside the door - one of the maids, I assumed. Good. He had arrived. I needed to talk to him about the list, obviously, but until we broached the subject I was going to act like the perfect girlfriend.
"Thank you!" I called, and checked myself over in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs into the foyer, where Hamish was leaning against a marble pillar. When he saw me, he let out a long whistle.
"Nice to see you too, dear," I said with a grin, and he laughed. "What do you think?" I continued, giving a little twirl and watching my dress fan out around me.
"I think," Hamish began, stopping my spinning with an arm around my waist "that you look fantastic," he continued as I straightened up and moved towards the door. "So fantastic that maybe we should just head back upstairs for the evening?" he finished, whispering in my ear.
I smirked and turned to place a kiss on his cheek. "That would just be a waste of a perfectly good outfit," I countered, opening the door and pulling him out behind me. I assumed we were taking his car, because he walked up to the black Jaguar and opened the passenger door for me, before crossing over and sliding into the driver's seat.
"I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight," Hamish murmured as we reached our destination, pulling up at the valet service and handing over the keys. "Who knows what might happen, with you dressed like that?" he added with a wink, and we headed towards the catwalk together, arm in arm.
I had arranged to meet Lorelle beforehand, so that we could sit together, but she was apparently nowhere to be seen. I could see Karlie, though, standing a little way off, so I waved her over.
"You looked lonely," I said when she arrived, flask in hand. "Look - we match!" I proclaimed, laughing as I took a swig from my own. We chatted for a while, just mundane things, until eventually the music started and people began to take their seats. We were on the front row, and I convinced Karlie to take the seat next to me. Some poor girl arrived, probably to take the seat Karlie was now sitting in, but she just walked away, looking flustered. I giggled as she left - I couldn't help it.
Once the fashion show had finished, a couple of excruciatingly boring hours later, the whole party moved inside, to Lily Desmond's mansion. I was glad to be gone, really - not that I didn't enjoy fashion shows, because I did, but one can only look at so many twig-thin models in minimalist clothing before starting to get a little bored. Plus, I had run out of alcohol around halfway through, and Hamish had gone off somewhere, apparently to find Stuart.
Still, we'd met up again at the party, and he'd bought Lorelle and Stuart over to talk. I put on a fake smile as Lorelle approached, and pulled her to one side.
"Blemish? Really, Lorelle? I mean, I know it's just Gatsby's stupid column, but I thought you were my friend! Friends don't make rude couple names for other friends!"
Lorelle sighed and took a sip of her drink before responding. "I didn't think of it. Mia did. Gatsby probably just gave me the credit so he could cause some extra drama," she explained, and I blushed.
"Oh. Well, I guess I'm sorry for getting mad at you, then," I started, but I never got the chance to finish my apology, because halfway through my sentence, I found myself being pulled away from the party and into a room that was empty, save for the furniture.
"What are you doing?" I asked, breathless, looking confusedly up at Hamish.
"Stuart told me what you told Lorelle. About Gatsby's list. I thought we should talk," he explained, moving to sit on one of the many overstuffed armchairs. I stayed standing.
"Go on, then," I urged. "Tell me. Tell me it's just someone spreading nonsense, and you're not cheating on me with some 'natural redhead'." I implored, hands on hips.
He raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, looking totally at ease. "You think I'm cheating on you?" he asked, and I blushed. "God. It's just some stupid f.ucking list. There's no need to get all worked up about it - and no, I'm not cheating."
I let out a sigh of relief and smiled weakly. "You're not?" I asked, and he stood up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a tight embrace.
"I'm not," he confirmed, and then he kissed me, hard. I kissed him back, content in the knowledge that I had been right, and Gatsby's list had been wrong.
INCLUDED/MENTIONED: @my-mind-is-a-warrior @death-as-a-fetish
Sorry this is so late! I went away to London for the weekend and stupidly forgot to take my laptop.