five
816 Words
Emilia POV
Liam was there, quiet as a mouse. The banquet was filled in with classical music, servants walking back and forth with food and drinks and of course, the people talking around in each table.
My mom and Angela hit it off with their conversation about The Housewives of New York and Atlanta, Max was in his world playing on my mom's iPhone, and I was quiet eating on my salads, avoiding contact with Liam.
''Attention, Attention!'' James said on the stage.
''Hi, my name is James Ball, the owner of Ball Foundation. My wife and I want to thank those who have come to this event. I appreciate your courtesy to take the time and need and joining us in this banquet.''
James made his speech short and simple and told everyone that he was grateful for being here and mention how perfect his wife is. Everyone died in laughter when he mentions about Liam and I could tell he was not having it at all.
Anger boiled deep in his system, as hot as lava. He clenched his fist majority of the time and continued to roll his eyes.
After the speech, the music transitions to pop music and everyone got up from to their seats and danced their way to the dance floor.
"Come on sweetie, let's dance,'' Angela said to Liam.
''I'd rather die,'' he replied.
She frowned and left the area with my mother and max, dancing to Finesse by Bruno Mars.
I got up from my seat and left the area where everyone else was. Wandering, I found myself in the balcony looking through the city of Great Oak. It reminded me so much of New York; big buildings, cars roaming on the streets, the music flowing throw the intercom as I stood there, enjoying the view.
Sitting down on the bench, I heaved a deep sigh and continued to look through the city. There was a slight creak sound behind that made me jumped out of my bench. I turned around and saw Liam standing there with his hands crossed.
''Oh, sorry, I.. um... I should go,'' I said, placing my head down in shyness.
''It's fine, you can stay. I do need some company.''
''Company?'' I questioned.
He smiled. ''Yeah, I don't mind having company.'' He walked over to me and sat down on the bench, patting for me to sit with him.
''Nice dress,'' he said to me.
''Nice hair cut,'' I replied.
He laughed. ''I guess, it'll grow back eventually.''
''Why did you cut it?''
''My dad wants to impress his sponsors, seeing that we're a perfect family but honestly, we're not.''
''I'm sorry about that.''
''It's fine, I don't care about it anymore.''
Silence fell into us as we both looked out to the city. My peripheral vision, I saw his eyes staring at the side of my face. He pressed his lips together and looked straight ahead as I caught myself looking at him.
''So, poetry literature?'' I broke the awkwardness.
''What about it?''
''Why'd you chose the course?''
He shrugged. ''I need the credit.''
''Nothing else?''
He sighed. ''Well, cause Poetry is, authentic. It speaks to my soul.''
''Really?
''Yeah, why'd you say it like that?''
''Cause you don't seem...''
''The type?''
I shook my head yes and he snickered.
''You shouldn't judge a book by its cover Emilia.''
''Emme,'' I shot back. ''Call me Emme.''
''Fine, Emme,'' he said.
-----
The night at the banquet was over and we all went back home. My mother and Angela decided to continue the night by going to Fith Oak Avenue and drink. Angela and my mom knew each other over a week and they've been attached like they are sisters are something.
Max fell asleep on the couch while I was in my shorts and tank-top, walking my way up to my room and grabbed my new sketchbook to go to the Bayou.
I walked down over the boardwalk and sat at the same spot I was in.
''What are you doing here?'' Liams voiced echoed through behind me. I jumped out of my spot and arched my brows in curiosity to why he was here.
''What do you mean?'' I asked.
''Well, the incident?''
''Oh, I wanted to continue with my sketchbook. Wait, why am I telling you this, what are you doing here?''
''To swim.''
''At night?''
''Well, yeah, that's the point.''
Liam was half shadow, every muscle on his torso flowing from the light into the dark. He was a living work of art, his olive skin so tempting to touch; every move giving away his strength.
He took off his shirt and walked passed me to the edge of the boardwalk.
''Don't stare at me if you're not going to join,'' he said.
''I'm sorry?'' I questioned, even though I knew what he was talking about.
''Come here, now.''
- Writer
