With Cristopher's clear indication, Averi did not refuse when Milo asked her to attend the event together.
The event was an eighteenth birthday party for Milo's distant cousin. Her parents, who adored her, hired a PR company to organize an elaborate celebration and even invited a few celebrities popular among young girls to sing and send their best wishes. The extravagance rivaled that of a New Year's Eve gala.
Averi and Milo coincidentally chose gray outfits. As soon as they appeared, a few of Milo's friends stopped them jokingly, "Milo, "Looks like someone's relationship is so synced, even their outfits match!"
J City is just the right size. It's the same crowd going around. Averi glanced around and noticed that half of the attendees were familiar faces, including Beatrice.
If Mcdowell Beatrice is in Dallas, then Dallas is definitely on the map.
He was dressed in a navy blue suit. His tall frame and close-cropped hair made him stand out in the crowd. During their previous encounter at the nightclub, Averi had noticed that Dallas was particularly sensitive to gazes. Her eyes had barely settled on him before he turned and locked eyes with her.
This time, he didn't look away. Averi felt a slight sense of novelty but still withdrew her gaze and sipped her champagne.
Beatrice noticed her as well and walked past a couple of people to greet her, "Averi, what a coincidence to meet you again."
Averi smiled in response, "Yes, it is."
Beatrice said, "Averi, you love to joke around too much. You even played a prank on my dad that day."
Averi put on an expression of confusion and asked, "Oh, did I? When?"
Beatrice couldn't push the matter further, so she laughed and said, "If Averi doesn't remember, it's fine. It's not important."
Just as she finished speaking, Milo, who had been chatting with friends nearby, turned and asked, "What is it that's forgotten?"
Beatrice recounted the event with the details selectively omitted. After listening, Milo looked at the woman beside him with interest.
He never knew Averi could play pranks.
The person at the center of the conversation, however, remained calm, her expression and tone both composed, "Sorry, I really can't remember."
"Milo, what are you doing? Watch your behavior, stop dawdling and come over," joked a few people who had been left waiting.
Milo responded loudly, "Why do I sense jealousy?" Even as he spoke, he started moving in that direction.
Beatrice continued her casual chat with Averi when someone suddenly bumped into Averi's back.
Averi felt herself lose balance and, before she could react, Dallas had already grabbed her arm. "Watch out," his deep voice sounded close to her ear.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" The one who bumped into her was a young man, standing awkwardly with an empty glass, hastily apologizing. He had just seen his favorite singer and rushed forward to talk, which led to the accident.
Averi was fine, only splashed with a few drops of wine. The marred patch on Dallas's shoulder stretched down his arm, a rough mosaic of uneven skin that marred his otherwise sturdy frame. It was as if the fabric of his being had been torn and patched together again, leaving an indelible mark of past struggles.
Noticing the young man's anxiety, Averi waved her hand, "It's fine." The young man flashed a nearly grateful smile and hurried toward the direction of the celebrity. His steps quickened, a mix of excitement and purpose in his gait, as if drawn by an invisible force.
Dallas handed her a tissue and released her arm.
"Thank you," Averi said, starting to wipe herself down.
Their interaction was ordinary, but Beatrice watched with displeasure.
Just a few days ago, she had humbled herself to approach Dallas, and he brushed her off like she was nothing. But today, with another woman, he rushed to play the hero?
Beatrice said, "Averi, my mom is calling me. I'll go check on her."
"Alright, see you later." Averi didn't try to stop her.
Beatrice led Dallas away from the main hall and into the hallway near the restrooms. Once they were alone, she tilted her chin and sneered, "Dallas, don't tell me you're into Averi. Do you even know what kind of woman she is?"
Dallas didn't respond, his eyes resting on her face with a cold, indifferent stare, as if by accident.
If it were truly unintentional, he wouldn't be looking at all.
Fortunately for him, Beatrice didn't catch on. She thought her taunt had struck a nerve and smirked even wider. "Seriously, stepping in to block a drink with your body? That's hilarious—trying to be the hero who saves the day? You should really know your place. Let me tell you, guys like you who throw themselves at someone, Averi's seen plenty of those, and chances are he's already had his fun with quite a few."
Beatrice spoke without a filter, choosing the harshest words she could muster, logic be damned. Her sole purpose was to tear him down and reclaim her pride.
Yet, her irrational words hit Dallas right where it hurt the most.
"And besides, didn't you see them in matching outfits? Get a clue."
So it was a matching outfit.
He had noticed earlier that the man who had approached suddenly was wearing an outfit similar to hers.
He stood so close, his arm nearly touching hers.
And then there was that comment, "Stop dawdling."
So that's how it is.
Dallas' tongue moved sluggishly in his mouth as he nodded and uttered a single word, "Got it."
Beatrice hadn't expected him to actually respond, and she was genuinely surprised.
After her surprise came satisfaction. She stepped forward, pressing her body into his chest and whispered, "So don't push your luck. Come out with me tonight, behave, and I'll make sure you're well rewarded."
It wasn't that she particularly liked Dallas; it was more that she couldn't bear being rejected.
Driven by her pride, Beatrice had recently started to pay more attention to Dallas, feeling a subtle, growing sense of restlessness.
The strong scent of perfume filled the air, making Dallas hold his breath in distaste. Just as he was about to push Beatrice away, he caught a glimpse of a gray figure out of the corner of his eye.
His movement to push her away froze instantly.
He had never, and would never, seek to provoke or test anyone; such things were beneath him.
But at this moment, he did.
A man and a woman, bodies pressed together, the girl's eyes full of seduction, her red lips nearly touching the man's ear.
This was the scene Averi walked in on.
She had only come to wash her hands, but ended up witnessing such a dramatic scene.
Beatrice was startled by her sudden appearance, tried to pull away, but found herself trapped by Dallas' grip.
Unlike Beatrice's frantic reaction, Averi remained composed, almost indifferent. Her gaze swept over the two of them quickly before she tactfully looked away, even pressing her lips together apologetically as she said, "Sorry." Then, she left decisively.
Dallas' fingers tightened for a moment, then released.
She said sorry.
Beatrice winced in pain and cursed angrily, "What's wrong with you?"
That phrase sounded too familiar, instantly triggering his memory.
She had said those words too, later, when she lay naked on his bed, legs trembling, eyes glistening, voice soft.
Back then, she had said to him: "Be kind to me."
