COPYRIGHT © 2017 Miu
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the Author.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All pictures and multimedia used are not the author’s work and doesn’t claim any legal rights.
MATURE CONTENT and VULGAR words not suited for young readers below eighteen (18) years old.
After a while of rest from eating the foods, the host announced that the eighteen most important ladies in Sophia’s life would give their wishes to the debutante.
Emma gave her lengthy speech and praises for her daughter that not even a mountain of cheese could compete with her cheesy words.
Followed by Holley, her BFF.
I bit back a laugh when Holley’s face contorted but still maintained her angelic smile when Nixon, her fiancé, assisted her to her feet.
I felt pity for the guy.
. . . A slight pity . . .
. . .
Alright, I don’t.
He deserves it.
The dull, goosebumps-awkward-cringing speech goes on and on until everyone gasped when Zoe’s name was called to give the last wish.
“Did you know of this?” I asked the laid back girl with pink hair.
Zoe shrugged her shoulders and snorted, “No.”
“At least tell me you’re going to say some kind of a decent speech.”
Zoe grinned and drank a bottle of beer in one gulp before wiping her mouth with the back of her palm.
“I have alright. Ten years’ worth of speech.”
She stood and went to the center of the spacious stoned floor.
Arnold Collin gave Zoe a warning glare while Emma and Sophia held their smirks.
What are they planning now?
“Ahem . . . I don’t have a speech prepared, so I’m just going to wish you, Sophia . . .” Zoe extended her hand and acknowledged Sophia while the debutante smiled, looking like a loving sister at Zoe.
Zoe grinned, canines showing. I lowered my head, hiding a wry smile as I ready my ears.
“I wish you good health. It must be exhausting for you to always make people believe that you are something that you’re not. Always hiding the truth that you’re a hoe. You think you’re pretty. You think you’re classy. News flash girl. You’re freackin’ nasty!”
. . .
. . .
The Collin’s were stunned as well as the audience. Even Cain and Zhander looked at Zoe a bit shock while I continued to stare down at my non-existent dessert.
Zoe bowed and sashayed back to our table. I looked at her as she sat while she only beamed back at me.
Sophia and Emma Collin’s smiles were frozen on their faces while Arnold Collin was so angry, veins protruded on his forehead. It seemed that any time now, he would stomp his way to our table and beat Zoe to a pulp.
You should have expected that to happen when you asked her to give a speech for you. Did you still believe that Zoe was the same as before that she would just submit to your every whim? The moment she left your house, she was already determined to leave everything behind. I scold them in my mind.
The eerie silence continued until a burst cheerful resonating laughter echoed throughout the night, and the stunned audience regained their senses.
My eyes flew to a man who just laughed. In front of our table, across the spacious stoned floor, there sat a boy with golden-brown hair dressed in a casual white shirt draped in a jersey jacket. He had a kind air around him as laughter stretched his innocent face. His laughter was so contagious that you couldn’t help but laugh as well.
Bit by bit, the atmosphere turned to its original luster as people laughed with him –– dismissing Zoe’s remark as a joke.
That boy had that kind of charisma, making other people felt at ease and happy from just his presence alone.
As soon as the boy with golden-brown hair laughed and wiped his tears, he smiled and winked at Zoe. Zoe returned the simple flirting gesture with a timid smile.
Wha––! When did she became acquainted with a pretty boy like him?
I looked at Zoe with questioning eyes.
“Elliot Volknov. Meet him a while ago,” Zoe said, shrugging her shoulders.
“Is it me, or are you a pedophile?”
The boy with golden-brown hair must be around our age or much younger.
Cain smirked, and Estela giggled while Zhander pretended that he didn’t hear anything.
“What? He’s seventeen like me!” Zoe barked, all defensive.
. . .
. . .
“Alright! He just turned seventeen! So what? It’s not like I’m interested in him.” Zoe held her chin and pouted, avoiding my scrutinizing eyes.
I didn’t press the matter anymore when a group of musicians at the side of the stoned floor played low beating drums and soothing striking guitars signaling for the cotillion to start.
A group of prominent members of society must be friends of the Collin’s, twirled to the dance floor, shaking their bodies with the song. It was pleasing to the eyes, watching their body shook with the music in their killer dresses and heels.
How can you even move with all those overly ornamented clothes?
When the cotillion ended, a slow playing harp-like melody reverberated, and Arnold Collin with Sophia in hand swayed at the center.
Everybody held their breaths when next in line was Nicholas Farrell himself.
I took a peek at the girl beside me. Zoe just rubbed her nose and resumed eating her tropical crepe, like nothing was awkward at the whole situation.
After Nicholas, lined of gorgeous men followed.
Honestly, I would drool and be in seventh heaven with all these handsome men left and right. But seeing Cain every day made my standards rose up way above the planet earth.
Maybe only the Gods could compete with him in my eyes.
. . .
. . .
I’m not joking.
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