September 8, 2015

Los Angeles, California

        A hand is shoved in front of me. I'm quick to bring my own to shake it once, then twice. Firm grip, eye contact, small smile. It was practically muscle memory at this point.

        "Romano. Happy birthday, young man!" Anthony says. He was the owner of a neighboring company, racking in over a million a year. He also frequently cheats on his wife without her knowing consent, but that was just semantics. "Eighteen. You'll be in charge someday soon, yes?"

        I broaden my smile, though it doesn't feel even close to natural. "Yes, sir. That's the plan."

        Whitney, Anthony's wife, smiles from beside him. "We look forward to seeing what you'll do in the future. There's nothing but great things ahead for you, I just know it!"

        "Your future, Roman," Beau whispers dejectedly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. "I don't fit in it. I don't fit in at all."

        My chest gets tight. I clear my throat once and loosen my tie. Anthony and Whitney are still droning on but I can't hear them. I'm back in Beaumont's backyard just two nights ago, hearing him telling me that it's over, that we were done.

        "I can make you fit," I whisper. I wanted to scream. I wanted to yell. But his parents were just inside. It'd ruin everything completely if they knew how often I snuck out here to meet with their son. "Please, just, don't do this!"

        Beau shakes his head. "It's already done. We knew this secret couldn't be a secret for much longer anyway. At least we'd end it before anyone had to know."

        "Romano? Are you all right?" Whitney asks, a concerned glint in her eyes. The look is so motherly that I almost feel compelled to tell her exactly what her husband was doing behind her back. But I'm not that kind.

        I smile bashfully. "Excuse me, I should find a bathroom. A tad too much champagne, I'm afraid."

        The couple laughs as I make a beeline towards the bathroom, out of the hotel ballroom, and down the hall. I push open the door aggressively before rushing to the sink, gripping the sides of the white porcelain so hard that my palms burn.

        I was crying unabashedly, like a child. If my father saw, he'd say I was too powerful to cry. I didn't feel powerful. I felt helpless. "I guess some part of me just hoped that whenever we were ready for it to not be a secret, we'd be in it together."

        "Let's face it," Beau exclaims, dropping his hands to his sides in anger. I'd never seen him so upset before. I'd never seen him angry at anything. "It was always just going to be some fucking secret. I'm the preacher's son and you...you're going to be very important someday. You're going to have everything."

        I felt hollow. Like someone had ripped my heart out of my chest and left me bleeding. With a shaky breath, I stuff my hands into my pockets.

        "I thought I already did."

        A harsh sob escapes my lips. I stare at my reflection in the mirror, wishing I'd brought something stronger than champagne, wishing that my father had allowed me to invite my "stupid" high school friends instead of his business colleagues to my birthday party. Jeremy would know what to say to make me feel better. Nova would have a funny joke or story to get my mind off of things.

        He didn't want to be with me anymore. I should've seen it coming, I should've known that I couldn't keep him happy for too long. He would always want more, more that I couldn't give to him. I wasn't a girl, I wasn't someone that his parents would accept. I wondered if he'd find a nice girl to date at university next year. The idea of a phantom girl existing causes another cry to leave me and I stand up straight, wiping away the hot tears that streamed down my face.

         There's the sound of a stall clicking unlocked and I freeze quickly as a girl leaves the middle stall. She was tall with long amber legs and bright green eyes. Her hair was pulled into a slicked ponytail and she had creative eye makeup, though it did little to enhance her natural beauty.

         She looked gorgeous. I looked a mess.

        I sniff solemnly, turning away from the stalls and back to the sink. I grab a paper towel and pat at my face as she saunters up to the sink next to me. Her hip juts out to the side and she leans against the counter. I can feel her eyes on me. "Sorry," I mumble. "I didn't know anyone else was in here."

        She smiles kindly, but there's something teasing behind her eyes. "Perfectly fine, pretty boy. Bad night?"

        I laugh harshly before deciding to make the sound. I clear my throat and straighten up my suit. "You've no idea."

        "What is it?" she asks. "Your crush doesn't like you back? You break up with your girlfriend or something?"

        I run a hand through my hair. She was close, but not quite. I hesitate. "Boyfriend, actually."

         The girl smiles and this time, I can see no teasing in her eyes. "Cool," she responds. "Sorry to hear that, though."

        "Yeah, well—" I start, but she's digging in her small clutch purse. I watch as she pulls out a package of cigarettes and an interesting lighter, complete with a naked woman and a bulldog.

        She follows my eyes and frowns. "Oh, don't tell me you're a narc or some shit."

        "I'm not," I say quickly. I wanted her to like me. Why did I want her to like me?

        "Good. Because I need this," she says, reaching up to light a cigarette. She pauses suddenly. "You swear you're not going to tell my dad?"

        I shake my head. "I don't know your dad."

         "Well," she says, grinning widely. "In that case." Then, she lights the cigarette and hands it to me. I stare at the foreign object for a moment before taking it. I smoke it how I've seen people do in movies and it burns my throat, in a good way. The girl grins at me as she begins to light her own.

        "I'm Eden."

——

         Hours later, the party is still going on. I'm practically a dead man walking, running on my fourth glass of champagne and Eden's cigarettes only. I spot my father across the room of expensive white people and he quickly waves me over, a friendly smile on his face. I was sure no one else could see through that smile. Nobody else, but for me. He was plotting something.

         I walk over slowly, my shoes clicking with each step. He's with Anthony and Whitney, the two of them smiling widely at my father. "Son! You've met the Peters, haven't you?" Father asks, eyes wide. I can see the meaning behind them. These were people to impress.

       I go a step further. I reach out and kiss Whitney's hand and shake Anthony's. "Of course. We had the pleasure of speaking a little while ago."

        "You left so suddenly," Anthony says, staring me down like there was something about me that confused him. I supposed he was confused by my social personality now compared to my standoffishness earlier. "We didn't get the chance to introduce you to our daughter."

        "Daughter?" I ask, raising my eyebrows. This was what Father wanted, then. I knew that he wanted me to find a wife soon. I didn't realize my time ran out on my 18th birthday.

         Whitney glances at something behind me. "Ah!" she exclaims. "There she is!"

         I turn to the person she's staring at and am face to face with the girl I'd smoked with in the bathroom. Her makeup was as perfect as ever, and if she was surprised to see me, she didn't show it. I force my face into nonchalance and smile at her. "Hello. I'm Romano."

        She grins wickedly. Her eyes are teasing.

       "It's a pleasure to meet you, Romano. I'm Eden."