Ten
Parties weren’t something that you hosted very often. Dinner parties, yes, but full-on parties, no. From the wrap parties that you went to they were mostly just the cast and crew members drinking and celebrating the end of the film. You wanted to impress the people that were attending. You wanted to show them that you were just a cool twenty-six-year-old woman that knew how to throw a party. The thing is, you didn’t know how to throw a party, but you knew who did.
Stella was over at your house in less than thirty minutes. Stella was a party girl through and through. If anyone knows how to throw one of the best wrap parties of the century it’s Stella.
She politely knocked at your front door. Usually, she would just take your spare key that was hidden under a rock and let herself in, but the two of you were setting boundaries. You were glad that she was respecting them. It’s the least she could do.
You opened the door and let her in. Stella followed you into your kitchen where she put her bag down on the marble counter. She took a seat on the bar stool and looked around. Stella was a pale woman with golden hair and brown eyes. She always wore red lipstick that could rival that of Taylor Swift. She is an underappreciated beauty that so many girls have.
You studied the way she looked around your home. You knew she wanted to say something, but she knew that it might upset you. The last thing she wanted to do was upset you.
“What is it, Stella?”
“Nothing.” She crossed her legs and pressed her red lips together.
You sighed, “Look, I know you have something to say so just say it.”
“This is no place for a party.” There it is! “I mean, it’s too light and too clean and too quiet.”
“Well, can you fix it?”
Stella jumped at the opportunity to help you fix what could have been the world’s most boring party. People were expected to arrive at seven. It was three right now.
Stella had a lot of people in her contacts. That was the life of an agent. There was this caterer that wanted to help kick-start his son’s acting career. Stella got the son a leading role in a Marvel movie. The caterer endlessly thanked Stella and said that he will forever be in her debt. Same thing with a DJ. By five o’clock, people were running in and out of your home, getting and setting up equipment. By six o’clock, the DJ and caterer were set up outside in your backyard which had a beautiful view of the Los Angeles city skyline. The sun was about to set and in no time, the twinkling night sky would be a decoration to the party that Stella helped you throw.
“Now, what are you going to wear?” Stella asked.
You looked down at yourself and examined your outfit. You obviously saw nothing wrong with the white t-shirt and blue mom jeans that you were wearing. Stella, on the other hand, did. She didn’t want to say anything though, but by the way that her lips were pressed together again and her hands were clasped behind her back, you knew that she wanted to help you.
“If you want to pick an outfit for me then you are more than welcomed to.” You laughed at the way Stella jumped for joy when she heard your response. In under ten minutes, Stella was back downstairs. She nearly threw your own clothes at you and urged you to go put them on. It was like she was a six-year-old girl dressing up her Barbie.
Stella picked out the black Iwona Corset Mini Dress that was made out of recycled polyester from Vivienne Westwood. She brought out your red bottoms and some gold jewelry to match. She really could have been a fashion designer or a stylist if she wanted to but being an agent was the career that she choose.
Stella wanted to do your makeup. You didn’t need any, but since there were going to be cameras everywhere tonight you needed to look your best. She just put on a bit of concealer, powder, mascara, eye shadow, and lipstick. The look was very natural yet chic like your hair.
Guests began arriving a few minutes after seven and soon enough, the party was starting to look like a party. People came up to you and congratulated you on hosting such a nice party. You simply thanked them and directed them to Stella, the real hero of today. Without her, your ass would have been stuck in blue jeans and a white t-shirt.
Jessica arrived in style like always. She was wearing a custom-made Chanel pantsuit. It looked great on her considering that she was very tall and lean. On her feet, she wore pointed-toe heels that could poke someone’s eye out. Peter arrived soon after that with Mary-Jane by his side. Peter was wearing something boring like every other male actor in the universe while MJ wore a green slip dress that made her stand out in the crowd. Peter and MJ made a beautiful couple and they were so head over heels in love with each other that it made you sick with envy greener than Mary Jane’s dress.
You gave both of them a hug and then asked them if they wanted anything to drink. The caterers had brought along with them an expert mixologist. Peter asked for water while MJ asked for a shot of tequila. She was a new mom, she needed it. You gave them their drinks and watched as MJ took the shot of tequila. She threw it back with ease and walked away to get another one. Peter just stood there, mesmerized by every step that his wife took.
Jessica joined the two of you soon after and struck up a light conversation. Things weren’t as tense as they were yesterday. She hadn’t mentioned the fact that Miguel chose to hug you instead of her. It’s not like she was angry, she was just a bit suspicious. After all, you were her friend and friends don’t date friends ex’s. Even if said friend cheated on her ex.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone going upstairs. You explicitly told everyone that upstairs was off-limits to everyone. You excused yourself for a moment and followed the person upstairs.
You angrily made your way upstairs and mentally cursed Stella for making you wear such elegant shoes in your own house. Your gaze was directed at the floor, making sure that you didn’t trip on any of the steps which meant that you couldn’t see in front of you. The person that you were following most definitely could hear you coming.
“You-” Was the only word you said before you realized who you were following. Miguel was wearing the simplest outfit yet it made him look absolutely unique. There was nothing in this world that could make that man boring. He even spoke two languages. Spanish left his mouth sometimes when he got angry or was passionate about something. Everything that this man did made you fall for him harder and harder.
“Sorry,” he said looking at you. He gave you a once over and nodded his head in approval. He then directed his gaze to a painting on the wall. “The Birth of Venus is one of my favorite paintings. I saw it when I first came into your house.”
“Came? More like broke in,” you shook your head as you took place beside him. “It’s fake. The painting's not real. I printed it at Staples and put it in a picture frame.”
“I could tell.” Miguel points at a watermark on the bottom left corner of the faux painting. “Botticelli painted it. Not some dude named Robert.” The way he pronounced ‘Botticelli’ made you shiver with need.
The two of you were now standing so close to each other that your arms were touching. Your skin was growing hot with the anticipation of what he might do or say next.
“What are you doing up here, Miguel? I told everyone that upstairs was off limits.”
He looked down at you, “Why are you following me?”
You laugh, “It’s my house.”
“I like your dress,” he said. Miguel's hands found their way to the front of your dress. His fingers played with the black strings that were fashioned into a bow. The entire time he did this, you were looking at his face. His features were soft as he played with the strings that were attached to the front of your dress. Miguel’s hand then snaked its way to your back and brought you in close.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he whispered. Now, you were looking into his eyes while he looked into yours. He was searching for the answer in those beautiful eyes of yours, but he knew that he couldn’t do anything without your verbal consent first. His thumb teasingly traced along your mouth as he waited for an answer.
You wanted this. You wanted him, but everything in you screamed at you to run away. He was danger packaged into the man of your dreams. So, you did the thing that your brain told you not to do. You went with your heart and your heart said, “Yes,” and he was kissing you.
His hands were rough at your waist as he kissed you with such fierce passion that was kept inside for so long. Your eyes were kept open for a moment, but only for a moment before they closed as you melted into the kiss.
He couldn’t believe it. You were kissing him! He was kissing you! Miguel had spent the past several weeks wondering what you would feel like and taste like. He finally had you and he stupidly let you go.
“I can’t,” Miguel shook his head, “I can’t. It’s too soon after the divorce. I can’t. I’m sorry. I thought I was ready, but I’m - I’m sorry.”
Miguel left you there in the middle of your own hallway. You were still high off of the adrenaline and the feel of his lips on yours.