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Chris is the chief panelist at the discussion. At first, it seems as if the moderator wants him to do all the talking, but Chris diverts some of the questions to the other people on the panel. Smart move.
The discussion is on building a toxic-free social media space. I follow diligently at first but soon lose track of what they’re saying.
It isn't that I’m not interested. Aside from the fact that it’s such an important topic, especially at this time when Twitter trolls are a dime a dozen, it’s also in line with my field. I, however, can't help getting distracted. This isn't my usual space and I’m curious about the hundreds of people I’d never have met if I hadn't followed Chris.
I soon start to play a game of finding people I know among the many faces.
I spot a man my dad had introduced me to a while ago, but he doesn’t see me. He’s so focused on the discussion on stage. Plus, we don't know each other well enough to communicate beyond a brief greeting. At least, he’s a familiar face.
My gaze sweeps across the room, up and down several rows of chairs. I glimpse a set of broad shoulders clad in a black turtle neck, and my breath catches in my throat.
No way.
I look back again, and sure enough, it’s Peter. I can't see his face as he talks with someone behind him, but I’d recognize that build anywhere. It’s Peter, alright. Besides, no one else would be dumb enough to wear a thick black turtle neck to a packed seminar, even if the air conditioners are on full blast.
Peter turns at the same time I turn to look a third time. Our eyes meet. An alarmed expression crosses his face, but then he blinks and it’s replaced by a mask of indifference. He even smirks and gives me a little wave. The gall of him.
I turn back in my seat and my focus does not leave the stage till the talk ends. Despite my focus, I’m even more distracted than before and don’t hear a word.
I keep playing back the things that happened between Peter and me.
Soon enough, more than half an hour has passed and I notice that everyone is clapping, signifying the end of the talk. Briefly, I wonder if Mr. Separate Social Media asked his question again.
Chris works his way through the crowd and towards me. I track his progress with my eyes to avoid looking for Peter in the crowd.
"I didn't know you knew your way around social media," I say as soon as Chris reaches my side. By then, there are only a handful of people left in the hall; most of the crowd has moved on to an exhibition in one of the other rooms.
"Believe it or not, there are several things you don't know about me." Chris stares at me briefly before he asks, "Hey, are you okay? You don't look so good."
I start to shrug but Chris doesn’t buy it. He puts his hand on my shoulder and forces me to look at him.
“What is it? Did someone do something to you?”
I shake off his hand and scoff. “Why would you think that? I hardly even know anyone here. I’m fine, Chris. Really.”
A loud laugh goes off behind us and I stiffen. It’s Peter's laugh. I pretend as if I don’t hear it and don't turn around. Chris, however, notes my reaction. He looks over my shoulder towards the source of the laughter and realization dawns on his face.
Chris places his hand lightly on my arm and steers me towards the exit.
"I need to prepare for my speech tomorrow. Do you mind giving me a few pointers? You know, like listen as my audience would and point out any hitch to me. Like beta testing."
I roll my eyes as I follow Chris out of the hall. “Like you need pointers from anyone. You’re like the King of public speaking or something.” Surprisingly and thankfully, no one stops Chris as we make our way out and towards our rooms.
"I wouldn't say, king. Maybe a knight?"
I laugh, Peter’s presence almost forgotten. “Whatever you say, Pastor Knight.”
