she hates industry parties, hates the posturing, the way every ego needed to jostle for position. every one wanted to be centre of attention. atheletes, musicians, actors-- too many egos for one roof. she’s too sober to pretend-- and the moment she steps through the door she’s contemplating exit routes, waiting for his signal, to make their way to some other part of the house. she’s standing-- talking casually, but she can feel his gaze on her skin, watching her as she navigates the room. as if he can see underneath the skin tight red number she’s in tonight, as if he’d like to take it off her right now if he could. it makes her smile a smidge brighter, makes her heart stutter. they’ve been trying to keep this a secret-- after all it was supposed to be casual. no need to do anything to alert tmz-- when all she’d been after is a little release. but now? her touches linger, and his gaze follows her accross rooms--and it doesn’t quite feel as casual, as they’d intended. she sees him exit, stepping out into the garden and disappearing into it. after a few seconds she follows, despite the complaining squeak of her shoes on damp grass. she goes down a path--explores a little until she spots his broad back. “you know-- i’m not too sure we’re doing as good a job of hiding this as you think--” she laughs softly. “if fact i’m fairly sure half the party knows-- from the way you’ve been watching me all night.” she doesn’t say it-- but she liked it.
