CRAZY RICH ILLÉANS
V
Hands On Helicopter Rides
Of course, Gemma Maeve Schreave has to be fashionable ten minutes late. Therefore, she sits alone in her car because in the end, with only Google as GPS, she didn't know how long it'd take, around the corner. She skims twitter on her phone. It seems that everyone in Illéa in her age lives their life on twitter. This evening, she expects the same.
(In fact, it's a total of three certain people with too much time on their hand.)
She watches cars pull up and guests arriving. Among them is a one young man that catches her interest; he's muscular, tall and has the sleeves of his shirt rolled up—handsome. Definitely handsome. He meets another one that Maeve compares to a typical American quarterback.
"Ooh, look who that is," the quarterback taunts. His two blonde accessories girls—from here on addressed as cheerleaders—laugh. "Griffin Vael. Elysian Tech's Black Sheep."
And her heart jumps a beat. She knows that name.
"Shut the fuck up," the other—Griffin Vael—replies, already tense.
"What," the quarterback laughs, "sad that you can't make out with your boyfriend? Where's Langston anyway?" Cue giggling from the cheerleaders.
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Asshole." He breathes in and out, awfully slowly. He is a bull, about to bulldoze him.
"Look at him, can't even form a sentence. Thank god Leander's got a brain, huh?"
Griffin Vael draws in air. "Leander does not have a brain."
"What?" the quarterback crosses his arms. "I know what you tried on him. Claim his work for your own? Really? That's dumb, Griffin Lies and Slander." They laugh again. Maeve doesn't. She cringes. Stealing work is dumb, yes, but this is Griffin Vael. She's planning on making it out alive.
"His mum must have been so happy that she had Leander before him," the quarterback tells the cheerleaders. That, apparently, is enough.
A punch flies, and it flies hard. The quarterback stumbles back, over the curb and falls on his back. He hits his head on the asphalt. The cheerleaders cry out and dodge. Maeve moves down in her car, hides beneath the windscreen. Maybe he won't see her in the car? She quickly pulls the key. Maeve shuts her eyes. Hopefully, the dark glass are enough…
Time doesn't fly fast. She waits for five minutes. Maeve doesn't dare to unlock her phone; what if it makes a sound? Opens a video? Griffin Vael could notice her.
When the minutes pass, she takes a deep breath. She looks; Griffin Vael is gone. The fashionable ten minutes are over, too. She takes another breath. Griffin Vael is gone—maybe he's turned around, away from the crime scene. The girls and the quarterback are gone too. He definitely has a broken nose now; Maeve can see red-brown on the sidewalk. If Vael is anywhere around, then he's probably going to hurt yet another person, Maeve realises. She unlocks her phone, ready to call the police. She doesn't, though, because with the Gemma Schreave and Estelle Mun situation already going, she doesn't want even more drama to her name. She peeks through her windscreen one more time. Vael is gone for sure. The quarterback is gone. The cheerleaders are too. No signs of anyone (involved) coming.
"This never happened," she decides.
In a bright turquoise top and denim hot pants, fashionable fifteen minutes later, Gemma Maeve Schreave makes her grand entrance. Except, it's not grand. There is a security guard asking for her name, but he (at least) recognises the 'Schreave' on her ID. She's happy to show him that, but the act came a little too fast to be excused as 'avoiding long waiting time'. She isn't afraid that people don't know her, no. Never. Absolutely not.
Nobody pays her attention when she walks down the path from the mansion to the beach. She follows the noise—some idle, not-too-loud party music and a lot of chatting. Gosh, Noah has many friends. Maeve is taken aback—wow—but Gemma Maeve Schreave has seen more. This is nothing, there's no reason to be jealous.
(That doesn't mean she's ever had such a crowd for her own birthday.)
She makes six steps; then, a loud noise of a helicopter catches her attention. A gust of air pushes down on her, almost destroying her hairdo. Thank god that she's wearing shorts; the helicopter is hovering above the beach and skirts are flying up. A bunch of people are shouting, but there's far too little chaos for this to be not normal.
"What the—?" Maeve asks. The helicopter silences her words.
Someone follows with a megaphone announcement. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I present you—" From the helicopter, several real rose petals fall down, and a hanging ladder with a person lowers. From her point of view, at the edge of the party, she can only make out the shape of a young man.
(Forgotten is the cute Perci Santos and his marbles.)
"—the great Alexander Langston!" As the helicopter approaches the ground, Maeve makes out an expensive suit. Alexander Langston's chocolate brown hair looks like he just woke up (but in the good way), and she can't miss his smile. He is handsome. What's with Illéa and good-looking guys? Where have they been all her life? Maeve gapes.
Noah though is unimpressed. From the to the now-gone bonfire, he shouts, "You're cleaning this up, Langston!"
Mr Helicopter ignores him and greets the women nearby. The helicopter flies away, and the party returns to its previous goings as if nothing happened. It really is normal. Mr Helicopter waves into Maeve's direction, and for a moment, she thinks he's waving to her, so she smiles. She remembers to close her mouth, too. Finally, someone recognising Gemma Maeve Schreave!
Turns out, she's wrong. From behind her, she hears a groan. "Seriously, Alex?"
She turns around to see who Mr Helicopter actually waved to. Coming from the mansion just as Maeve did, he walks by. She freezes; no, she did not need more Griffin Vael in her life. He strolls by, as if he didn't just beat up a quarterback. There are faint scars on his arm; she sees them when he passes and immediately knows where they come from. His face is grim like a gang member about to beat someone up. Beat her up. He's definitely not in a good mood. She gulps.
Please don't look at me, I'm nobody, no need to look at me.
"Hello to you too, Griff. How are you doing on this magnificent day?" Mr Helicopter greets his apparent best friend.. He evidently has a bit too much self-confidence, but he looks decent enough, and Maeve is happy to flirt with handsome boys. Especially those with money. She can do Alex Langston. His best friend? Not so much
Why did I wear heels again? I can't run in them. Maeve pulls her Gucci bag closer. For the first time in her whole life, Maeve regrets making languages her hobby. Maybe Kung Fu would have been better—or anything self-defense-y! Why didn't she think about a bodyguard? She's Gemma Maeve Schreave for crying out loud! It's only a question of time until someone kidnaps her. Why in the world is this happening to me—I don't wanna deal with this, mum, this guy is scary and… Ngóh séung heui hēung góng bihng yán chòhng joih dihksīnèihngohkyún. Definitely—hiding in Disneyland sounds so much better than this, but—Illéa. Inheritance. Money. She's Gemma Schreave, she has to do this. Alexander Langston and Griffin Vael pass by, but Maeve doesn't move.
"Uh, you okay?" god knows who but thank god asks her. Someone from the side—a girl, she assumes by the sounds of the voice.
(Of course, Gemma Maeve Schreave has to mess up.)
"Haih, dong yìhn, ngóh hóuhóu," Maeve replies. Yes, of course, she's good, except that she's replying in Cantonese. Goddamn languages.
"Oh, uh, you're not from here?" the girl blinks, mutter something to herself and goes on, as if she's some random tourist. "Uhm, do you speak English?"
"Yes. No. What. Sorry." Maeve speaks before thinking.
She turns to the origin of the voice. It's a lovely young woman of her age. Her big blue eyes are piercing—not in a mean, scary but in a calm, sweet way. Maeve is grateful for them and her kind smile. Just like most other party guests, she is holding a cup—but it's not a drink but a to-go coffee cup. Her clothes unwrinkled, hair perfectly styled and an open bag where she can see a planner (…and a camera?), Maeve wouldn't be surprised to see her at work. She blinks. She looks to stylish, too wealthy and proud to be a photographer engaged for the day, so she must be one of Noah's countless friends.
"Yes. I speak English," Maeve puts together, emphasising her Illéan accent just a little bit too much.
Blue Eyes ignores it. "Are you alright? You look quite pale. Do you need water?"
"No, it's fine, it's fine. Sorry. I'm… uh… bilingual mess. I meant to say, yes, of course, I'm alright. Sorry—I just got caught off."
"Understandable. Where are you from?"
"Illéa, actually," Maeve laughs awkwardly, "I just… I don't even know." Her heart is still racing a little. She takes a deep breath. "Maybe it's the heat. I should drink something, you're right." Of course, Gemma Maeve Schreave can't just go and be intimidated by a random party guest. She'll need to speak to Noah in regards of his social circle though. That can happen later.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
Although she's here to meet guys, Maeve knows that there's more to life than the opposite gender (and Anna's remark). "That would be lovely. I'm Maeve, by the way."
"Alessia."
So, Alessia de Rossi? How high are the chances?
"Are you friends with Noah too? He invited me and my brother to come by. He seems to know all of Illéa, it's amazing. Even Simi—Oh, here!" She waves towards a young, literally model-like man. Damn, what's with Illéa and hot dudes?Alessia is beautiful too and warm, and Maeve has to add that despite being eighteen years old, Kenzie was also quite good-looking, and then there's and then there's that strawberry blonde girl in heels, bold colours and with an aura of confidence that Maeve can only dream off—damn—that literal Barbie girl (that she just couldn't take her eyes off when seeing her) and a classy-chic redhead in the distance. She could be a Victoria Secret's model, thinks, with these… She's getting off-track.
(Absolutely off track, she tells herself. She needs to focus on the guys.)
"Il mio dio, Sia, tu sei bene?"
Maeve is taken aback. She speaks that language (she thinks), but can't place it—not at first, at least. It takes her a moment, and Alessia's reply ("Sono bene, Simi.") to place that it's Italian, that yes, she speaks it, and that the young man asked Alessia if she was alright.
"Oh, Italian?"The de Rossis are Italian, she believes, so Alessia is definitely Alessia de Rossi. Unless there is some freaky coincidence. If so, Maeve doesn't appreciate it.
"Yeah, we're from Italy," Alessia—or Sia, as 'Simi' called her, replies. "Do you speak Italian, too?"
"Cantonese, Italian, Mandarin, a bit Korean, French, Russian and I think some Spanish too…" Maeve half-stutters (and she's not sure if that's Mr Helicopter's company or Mr Hot Guy Nr 2813 here), but despite her pride, she decides to stop listing. She can brag later. "I like learning languages."
"It's fun, isn't it?" Sia asks, ignoring her bragging. "This is Maeve, Simi—this is Simeon, my brother. She isn't feeling well, so we were about to head to the shade and grab her water."
"Those two guys didn't come this way, did they?" Simeon's voice is round about as harsh as Daphne's voice when she speaks about her ex-husband. "Langston and Vael?"
(Ouch. No need to be that cold, Maeve thinks.)
Nonetheless, she points Simeon into the direction that Mr Helicopter and his company headed. "Thank you." At least he's decent enough to thank her.
"Let's head to the bar then, shall we?"
"I'm coming with you."
"… There's really no need, Simi…" Sia replies. "It's just the bar and—"
"Have you seen these two, Sia? I'm not letting my little sister alone—if you want it or not."
Ooh, Gabby can start a club of 'siblings with overprotective brothers'. What's next—she isn't allowed to choose anyone but him as company for the Rose Cotillion? The Bachelor's Brunch is the juicy part of the whole ordeal!
"Alright, if you want to," Sia replies defeated. She smiles nonetheless.
(Note to self—create a group chat with siblings of protective brothers.)
Of course, Maeve remembers that Alessia de Rossi and Simeon Adler are students. They must attend Illéa University, because there's no other choice in Illéa if you the best (or rich). That had been the one thing her mother insisted on, 'Maeve, I want you to study at a good university', but thankfully, she talked her way out of it. To be fair, Wellington is beautiful. And windy. Details.
"What are you doing—in life, I mean. Studying?" Maeve asks either way, so she won't come across as a creepy stalker—which she totally isn't—web stalking of Illéan rich kids or something.
"We're students," Sia confirms while Simeon shadows them like a security detail. "I'm doing my masters in Journalism while Simi is doing law. I intern at LaTV—do you know them?"
Given the fact that their broadcast on the whole Estelle Mun debacle probably swayed the public opinion in her favour, yes. Gosh, the police has been working on that for a week—and still no news! Maybe Noah knows more, because the oh-so-incredible Noah Schreave seems to be friends with everyone…
"I do," Maeve replies
"Stay away from the heir," Simeon notes.
Sia laughed. "You've told me before, Simi. I will, though." She turns back to Maeve. "We only came to Illéa in the beginning of this year though; Oxford graduates."
Maeve nods. "Harvard—and New Zealand, but yeah. Britain is actually one of the few places I've never really lived..."
"One of the few places?"
"In the last decade, the longest I've stayed in one country was for my Bachelor's and Master's degree; other than that, it was just one year each—well, I've been to Hong Kong twice, but that's it."
"Have you been to Italy?"
"Of course! I really regret not taking the time to live there, but who knows, maybe in the future… Any place you can recommend?" Maeve says that as if Rebecca won't die and she won't be Schreave Real Estate CEO soon. There's little space for 'let's live in Florence for a while'…
(Cold shivers run down her spine. Frightening.)
"Oh, I don't know. I've spent more time of my life in Britain than in Italy, actually… The only reason Simi even speaks Italian with me is that he doesn't want others to understand him, when he's telling me not to talk to guys…" She eyes him.
"Protective older brother?" Maeve concludes.
Sia hesitates. She tilts her head and stops at the bar where both grab a drink. Maeve doesn't look when she grabs a can and opens it. Sia hands her brother one too, before she finally turns back to Maeve and goes on, "Yes, definitely," she laughs. "I don't mind it though."
"Why not?" Maeve can't imagine why anyone would be too happy with anyone being overprotective—she loves her freedom.
"The guys that only come to you for quick flirts stay away," Sia replies. "It's almost like a quality filter, you know?"
Gabby doesn't seem to appreciate that too much, quality filter or not. Given that Sia is a student, she probably arrived in March—that's when the school year begins. She hasn't been to the Rose Cotillion. Another newbie, maybe? "Are you going to the Rose Cotillion?"
Sia nods. "My grandmother expects me to."
"Same."
"Have you been to the Cotillion before?"
Maeve shakes her head. "Not the Rose Cotillion, but a few events in the States."
"Italy for me," Sia replies. "My step-mother does a lot of work in that direction, and my father is a politician, so it was inevitable." Totally not information she's figured out by now, but she can't say that. Especially when Simeon looks good. "Are you going there too?"
Maeve nods. "Yup. Are you going to the Bachelor's Brunch, or is Simeon accompanying you?"
"Hmm… I'm not sure. I promised my grandmother that'd I'd let her manage me during the season in exchange for being able to focus on my studies for the rest of the year. I'd need to ask her, but I'm sure I'm going to the Brunch at least."
"Great," Maeve smiles. "Then Gabby and I aren't alone."
"Gabby?" Sia repeats. "Oh, Gabby Santiago?"
"Do you know her?"
"We're in the same group chat," Sia replies. What group chat? "I think she's the only debutante I know by name, though… I really need to fix my social life, huh…"
"Hmm?" Maeve chuckles. So does she—great. Note to self, Sia is definitely a good friend candidate.
"Going by some people," Sia begins, "I spend too much time on my studies and internship. I don't agree—Simi does exactly the same, but everyone is entitled to their opinion."
"The whole group chat didn't notice us joining," Simeon remarks. "Give the people in that chat, I don't mind though."
People as in male human beings? Can Maeve join? Now?
Of course, she can't just go 'hey add me pls'. Years of being the new kid have taught her to not do that. She knows how to be the new kid and make friends—even though she can't imagine to impress people with photos of cool vacations if 'arrival by helicopter with rose petals' is the norm.
(This is when she first realises.)
"We should make a support group chat," Maeve suggests, "for the Bachelor's Brunch, I mean." That way she can build a group of friends without looking weird. She's just the new kid willing to support other newbies.
"Sure," Sia replies, and proceeds to add her online. Maeve accepts the friend request (number two done!) and forms the group chat with Gabby and Sia. In the process, Simeon adds her too, and Maeve has to avoid smiling too much. It's going well. The Boyfriend Selection™ is going very well.
"Have you seen Kenzie around, by the way?" Sia asks. "I've been meaning to ask her about the beach clean-up…" Maeve can catch only a glimpse of a group chat and the words 'beach clean-up' over her shoulder. She does catch Noah's and Kenzie's profile pictures. "Simi and I are helping."
"Yeah, apparently, we are," Simeon deadpans.
"No, I haven't, sorry."
"I think Simi and I are going to look for her then. It looks like everyone has arrived by now, so I'm sure she'll be here. Do you want to come along?"
Given the fact that Kenzie is Noah's best friend, no. Not really. She can't just admit that, of course, so she decides to pull the 'Griff Vael is damn scary' excuse. "I think I'll stay here. Still a bit dizzy."
"Alright." Sia's warm smile is genuine. "Get well soon." She waves and turns around and heads off, Simeon following her. Maeve grabs herself another drink from what appears to be an open bar and opens her phone. She slowly—high heels—heads to the beach chairs.
Rose Cotillion Support Group
Maeve (gemmaeve): hello! :) sia and I were talking about debutantes at the rose cotillion. welcome to the support group.
Gabby (GabbyCantHearYou): That's a cool idea, Maeve! I'll ask the GC if they know anyone else going for the first time! ?
Maeve (gemmaeve): sure :)
Sia (fioraderossi): Hello!
Sia (fioraderossi): It's sad that you were unable to attend Noah's birthday, Gabby. We miss you.
Gabby (GabbyCantHearYou): I know I'll need to see the photos.
Gemma Maeve Schreave really wants to know what group chat they are talking about.
Of course, though, she doesn't have a lot of time to contemplate that mysterious group chat. She's Gemma Maeve Schreave—a magnet for the male guests of the party. Very soon—immediately—another one pays her attention. The first thing she notices aren't the words but the scent of his cologne, though.
"Hello, darling."
The sunlight blinds her. The sun is approaching the horizon, so Maeve—regretting not getting one of Anna's countless sunglasses—squints her eyes together to see who's talking to her. Going by the voice, it's Mr Helicopter, aka Alex Langston. Now he recognises her, huh?
"No need to be blinded by my divine beauty."
"It's the sunset, I'm afraid," Maeve replies unimpressed. At least, she's trying to be unimpressed. Alex Langston does look good. His company, following with an annoyed expression, isn't a one, but he looks scary and—
"Maeve, isn't it? It's a pleasure, I've been meaning to say hello since you've been back."
Finally! Someone recognises me! Maeve almost exclaims it; it's just Alex' company that stops her from moving her mouth. Or anything else. She manages to force a smile, but that's it. "Hi."
"I'm Alexander Langston, if you happen to remember."
She does—but only from researching Illéan celebs and finding a bunch of Yaoi fangirls shipping him and—ah, that's where she recognises his company from. It's not like she hasn't seen them ten minutes ago, or something.
"I'm Griff," his company adds on. Griffin Vael. Yikes. "Hey, Alex, how come you two know each other? Oh wait, isn't she that—" Maeve wants to ask that too, before she remembers that she's Gemma Maeve Schreave and of course, everyone should remember her. Also, Estelle.
"You know her too, Griff," Alex insists. "This beautiful lady here is Gemma Maeve Schreave."
"Schreave? Like Noah? What the fuck? Since when does he have a sister? Did you sleep with Noah's sister?"
Maeve frowns. She wants to correct him—she's his cousin! There's a difference; less shared genes! However, it's not on Maeve's to-do list to get beaten up, so she remains quiet. Not with that resting 'will beat you up' face. She lets the boys talk.
"His cousin," Alex corrects. "We were in the same class in elementary school, and that, Lys, is all."
Griff punches him, but continues the conversation like nothing happened. "Were we? When?"
"In school, until we were twelve. She moved. Don't you remember?"
Griff shrugs. "No? Not really?"
(Yikes. So much about everyone knowing her.)
Alex sighs, shakes his head. "My dear, Lys, how can you forget such a lovely lady?"
"Shut up, you don't even remember who you slept with yesterday."
"Of course I remember. Josie was such a pretty—"
"I see, you absolutely remember her," Griff deadpans. "Her name was Jennie."
(At least they aren't bringing up Estelle.)
"Well," Alexander Langston continues with emphasis. "This beautiful lady here? I couldn't take my eyes off her when we were—"
"Ooooh!" Griff leans back. "I remember her! Gemma Maeve Schreave, was it?"
At last, Maeve thinks. "Yes," she replies. "That would be me." She crosses her legs, like the supermodels on reality TV shows. Look cool, look cool…
"Didn't you have a—" Griff begins, but Alex pushes him aside. Maeve, immediately, readies herself to run, in case this turns into a fight. Alex Langston is unimpressed by Griff Vael.
"Either way, how do you like Illéa? You haven't been here in ages, have you?"
"No, I have not," Maeve replies. "It's nice to be back."
Alex sits down next to her, winks Griff over, but before he can sit, asks him to "be so kind and get us a drink, won't you, Lys?". Maeve is more than happy to take that, if it means that they're getting rid of Griffin Vael. She has a drink, but whatever. She didn't like it either way, and so she throws it away—casually and stylish.
She leans into the beach chair (as stylish as she can with hairspray in her hair) and nods to the rose petals on the floor. "What's with the helicopter?"
"Oh," Alex laughs, "I don't drive, and what's faster to get somewhere but the air?"
Of course, he does. Noah Schreave might be an absolute jerk, meanie and douchebag, but he has some sense in friends. She knows who Alex Langston is. She's seen his Instagram.
"That's true," she replies. "I should get myself a helicopter. I do like my cars though..."
Alex laughs. "You'd get along well with Juan, if he's ever around. That asshole is way too fond of his car."
The first part ("You'd get along well with Juan") is very good. She wants to get along with the actor. Alex Langston isn't a 'worse' choice so to say, but the Jennie-Josie issue does make her a little tiny bit concerned. And he isn't famous—not A-list famous, at least. The 'that asshole' is more concerning, but she decides to assume it's just a little personal conflict. Maybe a rivalry of fragile masculinity.
(He is hot and rich. What else does she need?)
"We all are, aren't we?" Maeve replies. Gosh, keeping relationships good with everyone is so much hard work. She can't just decide 'nah, I don't like New York, I'm moving to Paris' here, can she? Not when Illéa is meant to be her home at least…
"Oh, darling, the skies are much better."
"Show me," Maeve dares.
Before Alex can reply with the inevitable "Of course, I would love to take you, beautiful.", a can of beer flies against Alex; he's too slow to catch it. Maeve looks up, once again shielding herself from the sun. She recognises the arrival. Griffin Vael has returned. Oh great. He hands her another can in a 'normal, human manner but with a tad of romantic tension'. As he hands her the can, his fingers brush over hers.
(Props for that, but he still beat up the quarterback.)
"Thank you very much, dearest Lys," Alex hums. Is that this Vaelston everyone is talking about?
"Hi," Maeve forces out. "I'm Maeve."
(Maeve deserves an A+ in starting relationships.)
"I know," Griff mutters. "Griff. Don't waste your time with that loser. He's not worth it."
"Excuse me?" Alex asks amused. "You are graced by my presence every single day, dearest Lys. You should be overwhelmed with gratitude for that!"
"Lys?"
"Lysander, his middle name," Alex replies. "It appears that we all prefer them here."
"What is yours?" Maeve, naïve, asks.
"Alexander—my first name is in homage of the glorious Titus Langston senior."
"Your father?"
"Exactly. Now, Griff, what is happening with our drinks?" Alex waves with his hand, not unlike her friends in Los Angeles when they had gone on vacation in expensive hotels, pretending to be royalty. Fun times.
Griff rolls his eyes. "It's right next to you, Tits." He holds off. He'll go off anytime, won't he? "I'm going to say hi to Noah, and make sure you won't get drunk."
Alex opens his mouth. Maeve can smell alcohol. "Excuse me?"
"Yes, yes, excuse you." Griff waves it off, turns away and leaves, not without a, "Don't waste your time on him. Not worth it. He flirts with every pair of breasts he can find."
Alex barely gives Maeve time "Don't waste your precious brain on you, darling. He has his bright moments, but this isn't one of them."
"I see," Maeve laughs. "What are you doing?"
"Here?" He smiles. "There cannot be a good party without Alexander Langston."
"And besides the party? In life?"
Alex shifts. "Have you heard of The Goldfinger? Small, lovely establishment open to only a select few?"
"Yup."
"It belongs to me," he chirps. "I am also the heir to LaTV—I'm sure you've heard of it."
Estelle. Yes. "I have, I have," she replies. "I've heard the name, at least."
"Well," Alex leans back, breathing dramatically, "it's a corporation—very fancy and all—but you could also call it 'media and entertainment group'. Believe me. My father has told me more than enough about that."
They laugh. "How about you?"
"I came back home just about a week ago!" she insists amused. "There is much I could have done; half of that was catching up on what's going on here!"
(Or watching k-dramas. And being broadcasted across the city.)
"Have made any friends yet?"
"A few," Maeve hums. Read Sia and Gabby. Each of them, she has met once. "What do you do for fun? I'm sure, you have many friends."
"A few things." Alex smiles. What a charming smile, Maeve comes to think. "May I invite such a beauty as you are to a flight in my dear helicopter, and a dinner at my respectable home? I'm sure we will become very good friends."
Goal achieved. "Of course," she hums.
Like a prince of a Wattpad novel, he offers her his hand. Like the beautiful, absolutely average (actually not, she's rich, but whatever) protagonist, she takes it and follows him to the helicopter that is arriving almost as if Alex called it telepathically (read—smart watch messaging). He totally doesn't want in her pants. Maeve totally doesn't want in his either.
"I hope you're not too afraid of heights," Alex flirts as he helps her up.
The helicopter takes off, and the sunset, touching, is the best background she could ask for. She smiles at Alex, who proudly grins with a smile that maybe doesn't reach his eye. Alex points out to the skyline, to one of the larger buildings of the central business district.
"That there is the LaTV tower—the headquarters of my dad's work. Guess who's gonna inherit that?" he laughs over the noise of the helicopter. Maeve, of course, does not need to guess.
Maeve takes the chance and points to another skyscraper. "Do you know that building? It'll be mine sooner-than-later."
Alex laughs, amused but hopefully is impressed. He says something and the conversation moves on, as boring and nonchalant as it could possibly be. The wind blows through her air, she can lean back against Alex and his warmth, and hey—maybe Illéa isn't that bad.
Everything is going great. You know, Maeve thinks to herself, he doesn't seem too bad. I doubt he'd take every single girl on these flights. Griff was probably just joking.
(The sweet bitterness of one-night stands.)
Gemma Maeve Scheave leaves the party after being there for, at most, an hour.
Chapter Recap:
Maeve arrives at Noah's birthday party, ready to make her grand entrance, when she watches Griffin Vael be insulted by someone and proceed to, at least, punch him in the face. Of course, Maeve hides in her car and arrives late, just in time to watch Alex Langston arrive by helicopter. She is saved by Alessia "Sia" de Rossi when Griff's presence, and his reputation, once more scares her, and shares a lovely conversation with her. She, Gabby and Sia will all have their first Rose Cotillion together. After that, she lets Alex flirt with her, and despite Griff's earnest warnings, comes along to a helicopter ride, dinner, and probably more.
Next Chapter Teaser: In summary, Maeve does not like her family
So, Wondy, did I lie to you? Did Griff appear?
We meet three further Selected (plus one other minor character, Simi), Alex Langston by Frenchie is French, Griff Vael by Wondy-SW and Sia de Rossi by Amarillo is Yellow! What do you think of these three lovely characters? Will Maeve's friendship with Sia last? What is going to happen between Maeve and the infamous Alex Langston? Please let me know what you think! I really appreciate your feedback!, and also my ego depends on reviews.
The deadline for forms is also approaching! It's December 31 23:59 GST. Even if you've sent me parts, I will only consider full forms for the story, and won't hunt after them; I did that for Fallout and I, unfortunately, do not have the time for this.
The next chapter will be a bit different, so stay tuned. :) Also, do keep an eye on the Pinterest board. I'll be posting a bunch of new aesthetics very soon!
A big thank you to Slyther for the title and Green for helping me again!
