Chapter 4: Expected
1268 Words
Iris’s POV
The room became silent. I felt every eye turn toward me. For one second I wondered if I had done something wrong. Eric stepped away from the microphone, he was still smiling and was calm. Calm in a way that made the room seem calmer with him in it.
“Miss Calloway would you join me for a moment”
I walked towards the stage and when I reached him he lowered his voice just enough that only I could hear
“You look suprised”
“I am”
“I thought you would be”
“You know my name”
“Of course I do”
I frowned.
“How?”
He glanced towards the audience then back at me
“Every invited student is assigned a host for the evening I was given your file three days ago”
I blinked
“My file?”
“A short profile, your name course year of study and a few details from the university”
“So… you already knew who I was”
“Yes”
I looked at him for a long moment
“Then Camden wasn’t an accident?”
“Oh it was definitely an accident a very unusual one”
“You recognized me?”
“When your books fell so did your Student ID remember?”
“I remembered your name I just didn’t expect the student I was assigned was the same girl I bumped into a week ago”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. the explanation made sense, it should have made me feel better. Instead it made me feel as though the ground beneath me had shifted. He had been expecting me not because of fate but because my name had already existed somewhere inside the blackcretz literary foundation before we met in camden he noticed my expression.
“You’re still thinking”
“I’m trying to understand why I was invited”
“So is everyone else”
“That isn’t an answer”
“I know”
He smiled gently
“Come, let me show you the rest of the evening”
The crowd seemed less intimidating with eric beside me. People greeted him constantly. Writers, editors, professors, publishers literally everyone seemed to know him, not in a casual way people know a celebrity but in the way people know someone that changed their career. He introduced me simply
“This is Iris Calloway first year English literature and psychology at blackcretz university”
No exaggeration, no praise, just my name. Oddly that made me more nervous. One editor asked what I was writing I almost laughed
“I’m not writing anything”
“She’s being modest” Eric said
“I’m being honest?” I said silently
He looked at me
“You’re always writing”
I frowned
“I’m not”
“You’re collecting”
“What?”
“Sentences people conversations places, you collect things before you turn them into stories”
I stared at him
“How do you know that?”
“You were watching everyone before I called your name”
“I was nervous”
“Exactly”
He said it so simply that I could not argue with him. the evening blurred into conversations I could barely remember. An elderly poet told me that London would either save me or destroy me, a novelist I admired admitted that he still doubted every sentence he wrote then a publisher asked what I had been reading recently, when I answered honestly Eric smiled in a way that suggested I had unknowingly passed some kind of secret test
“You’ve barely touched your drink”
“I’m trying not to embarrass myself”
“You’re doing a remarkable job of not embarrassing yourself”
“That sounds like a compliment”
“It is”
A waiter passed with a tray of sparkling water. Eric picked up two glasses and handed one to me
“You don’t drink?”
“Not much”
“Good”
I looked at him as he smiled slightly
“The literary world is full of people who confuse alcohol with honesty”
I laughed before I could stop myself
“There it is” he said
“What?”
“ the same laugh from Camden”
“You remember that?”
“I remember details”
For some reason that sentence stayed with me
“So what exactly does a host do?”
“Officially?”
“Well.. yes”
“ I’m supposed to make sure you survive the evening”
“And unofficially?”
“I’m supposed to notice things”
“What kind of things?”
He looked around the room
“How you speak to people.”
“What questions you ask.”
“What books you mention.”
“Whether you’re interested in literature or interested in being seen as someone interested in literature.”
“That sounds exhausting”
“It can be”
“So this is some kind of test?”
“Everything is some kind of test”
I looked around the room again. people were smiling, talking and laughing. no one looked like they were being evaluated. So I frowned and said
“I don’t like that answer”
“You’re not supposed to”
He studied me for a moment
“You’re wondering if this invitation came with a reason”
“Yes”
“It did”
I waited
“The problem is that reasons are rarely obvious at the beginning of a story”
“You speak like everything is already a story”
“Maybe it is”
Another guest approached Eric and he excused himself for a moment
“I’ll be right back”
I nodded and as I was left alone I wandered toward one of the bookshelves that lined the hall. the shelves were filled with first editions signed manuscripts and framed letters from authors I had studied in school. I reached for a slim poetry collection
“Careful”
I turned gabriel ponsah was standing beside me
“You’ll disappear in here if no one rescues you”
“I was just looking”
“I know”
He glanced across the room towards eric
“He seems to like you”
“I don’t think he knows me well enough to like me”
Gabriel smiled faintly
“That has never stopped anyone before”
There was something thoughtful in his expression as if he wanted to say something else
“What’s wrong?” I asked
“Nothing”
“You look like you were about to say something”
“I was”
“And?”
He hesitated then looked up for a moment
“Just be careful with people who know exactly what you need before you do”
I frowned
“What does that even mean?”
Gabriel was quiet for a second then said
“Forget I said anything”
Before I could ask another question someone called his name from across the room he gave me a polite nod and walked away. I stood there holding the poetry book watching him disappear into the crowd. His warning lingered in my mind, be careful with people who seem to know exactly what you need before you do. I turned slowly and across the room Eric Belmont was already looking at me. He lifted his glass slightly, no romantic gesture more like an acknowledgment as if he had been waiting for me to look back.
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