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Outside, I glimpse the mass of people gathered in front of the building, and a tide of babbling chatter hits my ears.
“Are you ready?” Wade asks, gripping the door handle.
“Mm-hmm.” I almost wipe my clammy hands on my dress, but then I remember what I’m wearing and refrain from it. “Let’s go.”
He opens the limousine door beneath the cheers and clamour of fans before helping me out of the car. The moment my heels hit the pavement, I feel like I just entered a glasshouse. Bright lights blind me, and waves of feverish warmth wash over my body, confusing my senses. Voices get distorted. Bright flashes scorch into my retinas, and the burnt smell radiating from the giant spotlights is mixing with the scent of rain. We’re under a gazebo, but I know the downpour hasn’t ceased. I hear the loud patter of raindrops pounding on the roof. Wade grabs my hand, and his touch is like an anchor, bringing the world back into focus. I try as best I can to smile while following him down the red carpet.
We stop in front of the backdrop that bears the charity’s logo, where we have our picture taken together. His hand is on my waist, and I lean against him, taking solace in his comforting scent.
“You’re doing great,” he whispers in my ear as the photographers go wild, asking Wade to kiss me. He gives me a peck on the cheek, and I’m grateful for the amount of foundation I applied to hide my tomato-red cheeks.
After what seems like forever, we continue along the red carpet, zooming past the reporter section where journalists are waiting, microphones in hand.
We finally enter the building through a set of open double doors.
“You’re not doing interviews? Don’t refrain on my account. I can wait.”
He shakes his head. “I never do. Publicity isn’t the reason I’m doing this thing. I only agree to the red carpet because it helps bring awareness to the cause, but it’s really not my style.”
My heart stutters. “That’s quite selfless of you.”
“Isn’t that the point of charity, though? Giving back while expecting nothing in return?”
He’s right—naturally. But I can’t help but swoon at how gorgeous this guy is, inside and out.
After talking with some representatives from the charity, Wade guides me into the ballroom. As we enter the space, I realise this is not an intimate affair. The vaulted ceiling looms over a luxurious room filled with men dressed in their most expensive tuxedos and women with elegant updos. Their dazzling jewellery competes with the massive tiered chandeliers hanging above us.
Smoothing out my dress, I meander around the room with Wade. The posters on display showcase kids playing guitar, riding horses, and playing sports. On one of them, Wade is sitting crossed-legged on the floor, talking to a dozen children. I smile at the sight. At the back of the room, a live band is playing ambient lounge music that blends with the chatter of the guests and the clinking of glasses.
We stand around a high round table covered with a white tablecloth that nearly sweeps the floor, and waiters pass by with appealing canapés and champagne glasses. I select a few appetisers and situate them in front of us. Wade grabs a flute of champagne for me and asks a waiter to bring him a sparkling water with a lemon slice. “So,” I say, taking a sip. “Can you explain what offside means? It’s still driving me nuts.”
He jerks his head back to me. “What?”
“During your last game, Liverpool’s goal was refused because the player was offside. I looked at the rules, but honestly! What kind of sports degree do you need to understand that one?”
His eyes light up as a low chuckle thrums from his chest. “It’s not that hard. Try this. You’re queueing in a shop, second in line from the till. Behind the till is a dress you want. However, there’s a woman in front of you who also wants it. Unfortunately, you left your purse at home—”
I frown, holding my hands up. “Wait. Why would I be queuing at the till if I don’t even have my purse?”
He scratches his head. “Err, maybe this isn’t the best example.”
I shake my head. “No, continue.”
He leans one elbow on the table. “Now, it would be rude to pass in front of the woman to grab the dress when you don’t even have the money to pay for it, right?”
“Right,” I say, bringing a salmon canapé to my mouth.
“Luckily, one of your friends is in the store. She sees your problem and throws you her wallet. You now have the money to pay, and you can slip in front of the other woman and buy it. But if you had pushed in front of the other woman before your friend tossed you her wallet, it would have been wrong. You would have been offside.”
“Because I didn’t have the money yet.”
“Exactly,” he says, nodding.
“So, the ball is the wallet?”
“Yes.”
“And my friend, the other woman, and I—we’re all players. Only the woman in the queue is playing for the opposite team.”
