The Party

Adrian’s POV

The house felt too large and too quiet when I walked through the front doors after practice. Marble floors stretched under my feet and the usual staff moved around with practiced silence, collecting jackets and disappearing down side hallways before any conversation could start. I headed straight for the staircase, hoping to reach my room without interruption, but my father’s voice carried out from the study.

“Adrian, come in here for a minute.”

I changed direction and stepped into the room. He sat behind the wide oak desk with a folder open in front of him, glasses low on his nose. My mother occupied the chair near the window, spine straight, expression carefully neutral the way it always was when these conversations started. The air carried the faint scent of his cologne and old paper.

“You placed first again today,” he said, glancing up. “That’s fine. I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t look good on paper. But we both know racing is still just a hobby. It isn’t a future.”

I stayed standing. “I know how you feel about it.”

“I’m not sure you do.” He closed the folder and leaned back in his chair. “The company doesn’t run itself. We’ve got negotiations coming up next quarter and I already told the board you’d start sitting in on the Thursday strategy meetings. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you started carrying some of the actual weight around here instead of spending every free hour on a track.”

My jaw tightened. “I never said I would take that on.”

“You didn’t have to. It’s already arranged.” His tone stayed even, but the disappointment underneath it was clear. “This family didn’t build what it has so you could keep treating responsibility like an optional extra. There’s an event at the Harrisons’ tonight. Claire will be there. Her father and I have talked more than once about how well the two of you would suit each other. I expect you to go, be polite, and give her some real attention. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

My mother spoke from her chair, voice softer. “It’s only a party, Adrian. You don’t have to stay late. Just show up, smile, and make conversation. That’s all we’re asking. Your father has already told the Harrisons you’ll be there, so it would look strange if you didn’t appear.”

“I’ve had a long day,” I said.

“Then make it a short night,” my father replied. “But you will go.”

I nodded once and left the room before the discussion could stretch any longer.

Three hours later I stood in a crowded ballroom wearing a tailored black suit and the smile I had learned to put on without thinking. Crystal lights hung overhead and threw soft reflections across the polished floor. Servers moved between groups with trays of champagne. Girls drifted toward me in pairs and small clusters, laughing easily, touching my arm when they spoke.

One of them, a brunette I vaguely recognized from another event, stepped in close. “Adrian, I watched your race last week. You made it look effortless. Are you training for anything bigger this season?”

“Just the usual schedule,” I answered. “Nothing confirmed yet.”

“Well, you should let me know if you ever want company at one of the meets,” she said with a smile. “I free up pretty easily.”

I gave her a polite nod and shifted my weight just enough to create space. Another girl joined the small group and asked about a charity gala next month. I answered without really hearing myself, the same practiced phrases leaving my mouth while my attention stayed elsewhere.

Claire found me near the tall windows that looked out over the city. She looked polished in a pale blue dress, hair carefully arranged. Her father stood across the room speaking with mine, both of them glancing over at regular intervals.

“Adrian,” she said. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

“Claire. You look well.”

She smiled and stepped a little closer. “My father mentioned you might be free later this week. There’s a charity dinner on Thursday. I thought we could go together. It would make both of them happy.”

I kept the smile in place. “I’ll check my schedule.”

“You always say that,” she said lightly. “One of these days I’m going to hold you to it.”

She continued talking about mutual friends and a vacation her family had taken over the summer. I nodded at the right moments and offered short replies that kept the conversation moving without inviting anything deeper. Every few seconds my thoughts slid back to Elias. The way he had shoved me after the race. The heat in his face when our bodies pressed together against the fence. The dark mark I had left on his neck and the panic in his eyes when it was exposed. I wondered if he was still sore. I wondered if he had thought about that night as many times as I had.

My phone felt heavy in my pocket. I had sent him several messages over the past day and a half without a single reply. Still I pulled it out while Claire turned to greet someone else for a moment and typed a short line.

‘You free?’

I watched the screen, not expecting much. For once the reply came within a minute.

‘What do you want?’

I glanced up to make sure Claire was still occupied, then typed again.

‘Stuck at a party. Parents. Forced socializing. What are you doing?’

‘Working. Late shift at the campus lab. Why?’

‘Because I would rather talk to you than anyone in this room.’

There was a longer pause. I could almost picture him staring at the phone in that quiet lab, deciding whether continuing was worth the risk. Then the next message arrived.

‘Being bored of fancy parties sounds rude.’

I almost smiled at the screen.

‘It’s honest. Tell me about the lab.’

Another pause, shorter this time.

‘Nothing interesting. Running samples for one of the graduate projects. Trying not to fall asleep between cycles. Coach wants extra training logs submitted by Friday or he starts making threats about eligibility.’

‘Threats?’

‘Scholarship threats. The usual. He likes reminding me that talent only covers so much when the paperwork is late.’

‘You should ignore him and come crash this party instead.’

‘Hard pass. I don’t own a suit that expensive.’

I would lend you one.

‘Stop.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘And I’m seriously at work. Some of us don’t get to stand around in ballrooms.’

‘I’d rather be in the lab with you than here.’

‘You’re ridiculous.’

‘You answered me though.’

There was another pause. I could feel him deciding whether to keep going or shut it down. The next message was shorter.

‘Don’t read into it.’

I started to type another reply, but movement at my side made me lock the screen instead.

Claire’s voice cut in beside me, polite but clearly curious.

“Adrian?”

I looked up. She was watching me with a carefully composed expression, head tilted slightly, eyes moving from my face to the phone still in my hand.

“Who are you texting so seriously?” she asked.