Anthony

The new dress, the perfect shoes, the hairdo I’d spent an hour fiddling with – all of it suddenly didn’t matter. I stood in front of the huge gates leading to the lavishly decorated mansion and felt like a complete idiot. I’d forgotten the invitation. On the coffee table, next to my car keys and purse… of course.

The guard, a large man with an impassive face, repeated calmly:

• You must have an invitation or a person accompanying you. Without this, entry is prohibited. - His hand, like a wall, blocked my way.

I opened my mouth to begin explaining that I had indeed been invited, that it was a misunderstanding, that I… but I was interrupted by a cold, familiar voice.

• She's with me.

That voice… I knew it, felt it with every cell of my body. Without even turning around, I understood. Anthony. My bully, my eternal rival in all subjects, and the object of my secret, and completely unrequited, admiration.

The air around me seemed to thicken. I turned slowly, expecting to see his mocking smile, his usual challenging gaze. Instead, I saw… something else. There was no trace of mockery on his face. He was serious, even stern. His gaze was directed at the guard, not at me. There was no trace of the easy arrogance he usually sported. This was Anthony, whom I had never seen before. And that scared me more than the fact that I was uninvited. What was he doing here? And why was he covering for me?

• She's with me...