Foul Ball: Day 22, and 39,064 Words

I spent much of my writing time today looking up photos of weddings at the Art Gallery of Ontario and dresses on Rent the Runway as inspiration for today's excerpt. As Indigo and Manta know, I was feeling very lost as to what should happen next, and Indigo came to the rescue and said there should be some kind of situation that forces the characters together so that the plot can move forward. I thought, what would Jane Austen do? And the answer is always, have a ball.

Nora was soon distracted by getting ready for a ball. Er, gala. The Writers’ Guild of Canada was hosting its annual awards gala in the large wood and glass hall of the Art Gallery of Ontario. While Nora attended these galas annually, this was the first year that she was to receive a prize: in the fantasy section of the guild. Nora opted to take Shalini, who was arriving on a red eye flight from Vancouver the night before, as her date.

While Nora was excited and honoured to be receiving an award, she was apprehensive about the other guests who might be attending. She assumed that Oliver, the new poster boy for the Canadian Writers’ Guild, would be in attendance so that they could shower him with praise all night long.

It was also possible that Wynn would be there as well, and while she did not dread seeing him in particular, she was not eager to repeat the encounter that she had with the pair of them at Jackie’s Place. The two had not spoken very much since their last coffee date where Wynn had discussed his rocky past with Oliver. Nora had left that reunion feeling uncertain; she had gone into it believing that she would see through her Wickham’s falsehoods, but ultimately that had not happened at all. If Wynn had been lying, he did not embellish it as artfully as Wickham had. It was possible that this story didn’t have a Wickham at all.

After spending the day getting their hair, make-up, and nails done in Yorkville, Nora and Shalini felt happy and confident as they walked into pre-awards cocktail hour in the large Galleria Italia. It looked like a million twinkling lights were hanging from the high ceiling, which reflected in the glass to make Nora feel as if she were in a twilight sky. Small bars were set up around the galleria, serving elegant cocktails in champagne flutes. They each helped themselves to a cocktail and stood around one of the many high tables with gold sequin table cloths and low vases with flowers of pink, peach, white, and burgundy that were scattered around the room.

Shalini was wearing a black mermaid cut gown with off the shoulder straps. Her hair was worn in a low chignon, accentuating the pretty neckline of the dress. Nora had opted for a gold sequin floor length backless gown, a stylish top knot, and a bold pink lip. As much as her black peep toe pumps hurt, she had to admit that they looked really good.

Through the crowd, Nora noticed a familiar figure cutting through the crowd. Oliver was wearing a black tuxedo, complete with a cummerbund, white pocket square, and black bowtie. His hair seemed more in place than usual, which Nora didn’t think was possible considering how well-groomed and put together he always appeared to be. Seeing him made her stomach drop a little; he was so handsome it was almost unfair.

He was holding a glass with bubbly clear liquid, and Nora was about a million percent sure that it was a vodka soda, hold the vodka. Oliver looked like the kind of person who had been to many galas and knew his way around a suit—his ass certainly did—but simultaneously as uncomfortable with them so as to nurse a club soda and look like you would rather be anywhere else. Nora had always found the trope of rich men who have contempt for their wealthy upbringing and who try to downplay it—but who also manage to put it on display at key moments, such as a ball where they are required to perform a traditional ballroom dance or speak a foreign third or fourth language—to be incredibly tiresome. She had never met a rich man in real life who didn’t completely love being wealthy, but the world of fiction was just littered with them for some reason. Oliver wasn’t that, exactly. He was just antisocial, and from what she knew about him a gala was exactly the type of event that he would have been dreading for weeks.

When Nora and Oliver’s eyes met, his eyes darkened. He quickly turned to walk in a different direction, away from her.

“Is there something on my face?” Nora said, turning towards Shalini. “Oliver just frowned at me from across the room and then turned in the opposite direction.”

“There isn’t something on your face,” Shalini said as she inspected her friend. “But even if there was, a good friend would run towards you to notify you and help to remove it.”

“You are exactly the kind of person who would do that, and that’s why I am going to miss you severely.”
Shalini searched through the crowd and quickly found Oliver.

“I have some suspicions for why he might be avoiding you,” Shalini said.

Nora was craning her neck to try to spot him again. “Why?”

“He’s with Noah,” Shalini sighed.

Indeed, he was. Noah was wearing almost an identical outfit to Oliver’s, except she could tell that he had a wild side because there was a shiny silk lining on his tuxedo.

“Why would that be a problem?” Nora asked.

“Because Noah and I agreed to stop seeing each other while I was in Vancouver,” Shalini admitted, with reddening cheeks.