Cat calls and whistles rang through the room. Paparazzi’s cameras flashed and Paula pulled away. Questions were thrown at us from the logical type (“When did you two start dating?”) to the completely crazy type (“Will you be having children?”).
Paula broke through the swarm and ran for the exit. I attempted to follow, but they just wouldn’t let me through.
“Everybody calm down!” Nicole slurred. She was drunk off her ass, but she still managed to save the day by causing a hush over the crowd. “Move out of his way!” Like magic, the paparazzi made a clear path to the exit.
“Thank you,” I called over my shoulder as I power walked to the exit, just in time to see the only working elevator’s door shut. “Shit!” I went for the only other way. The stairs.
I walked up the stairs to the balcony of her room. I looked into the French doors, and I saw her lying on her bed, sobbing. “Pawla!” she got up and shut the curtains in my face.
“What do you want Simon?” she asked through the thick fabric of the curtain.
“I would like to know why the love of my life is sobbing her eyes out.”
She fumbled with the drawstring and opened the door. “You… you love me?” She looked genuinely shocked.
“Pawla…. of coarse I love you.”
“I owe Nicole fifty bucks.”
We crumbled into a fit of giggles. She leaned on me for support so she wouldn’t fall down. Paula looked up at me. “I love you,” she whispered as she leaned in for a kiss.
“I love you too.”
We walked back into the ball room hand in hand. We were immediately surrounded by flashing cameras. Nicole was in the bathroom (doing God knows what), so she wasn’t there to work her magic on the paparazzi. “Let’s just go back to my room,” Paula suggested, and I followed her out of the room and to the elevator.