A/N: Aa, it draws closer to the climax and I'm at the edge of my seat with anticipation. Oh, and Eriol's just a tad bit slow in this story. I'm having dental surgery tomorrow, so I decided to post this early. Merci si beaucoup de pour lire mon histoire! (I'm not actually French . . . ^^;;)

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Chapter 7: Rumba

I felt like I willingly stepped into a sea of blinding camera lights and noisy journalists. I was initially confused with the incredible intensity of the surrounding hubbub. I looked to Tomoyo and was amazed to discover that her poise was admirable-like. Out here, in front of cameras and overexcited paparazzi, she transmitted an almost un-daunting confidence - haughtiness almost. I marvelled at how she handled the crowd, how she was able to grasp them by the collar and drawthem to her. I saw many celebrities (most of whom I didn't even know about) and realized that they, too, had the same ethereal quality as Tomoyo.

Just before the onslaught of cameras and gossip mongers, Tomoyo shed her long coat and revealed the outfit underneath. I felt like something gargantuan had knocked the sense out of me. Tomoyo stood in a pale lavender dress that shimmered with light and ended just a couple of inches above her knees, which looked extremely sexy without being overly so. The fabric had an almost translucent quality and tended to bring out and accentuate the natural pallor of her skin, contrasting wonderfully with her dark hair. Tomoyo gazed at me almost shyly, looking at me from underneath her eyelashes. For a second there, I forgot how to breathe, and I wasn't the only one to be awed by her appearance.

"Can we have your name?" I heard someone call out, and a second later about half a dozen microphones were shoved in my face, breaking the momentary spell.

"H-hiiragizawa Eriol," I stuttered trying to shield my eyes from the glare of the cameras.

"What relations do you have to Ms. Daidouji?" Another reporter asked, notebook and trusty pen in hand.

"W-what - we're friends."

"For how long have you known Ms. Daidouji?"

"Not too long." I spared a glance in Tomoyo's direction, who, too, was combatting with the attack-force of the paparazzi, pleading her for help. "Save me," I whispered to her.

"Gentlemen and ladies of the press," she announced, taking my hand in hers and steering me away from the noisy crowd. "I beg you excuse my friend and me, but we must get going; the party awaits. I assure you, I will personally give you all juicy details afterwards."

Inside the grand ballroom it was considerably quieter though I could still hear the hubbub taking place outside. The walls were decorated with slightly modernized replicas of frescoes from the Rococo period and a large satiny-like tulle hung on the west wall. Several long dinner tables had been set up, with an extra large one for the buffet. The whole room had an almost dreamlike quality, with soft light and hushed voices of the occupants.

When we arrived at our designated seat, I turned to Tomoyo and asked quietly. "Is this how you always feel at press conferences? Like a trapped animal?"

She giggled softly and nodded with a lopsided smile. "Yes, that's what it's like to be famous. You never have a moment of privacy. Because you are famous and ordinary people look up to you in everything: looks, behaviour and companionships, you can't really be yourself. You have to play and act like role model."

It was ironic, to say the least. I had always been the one interviewing somebody, and now it was I who was interviewed. I guess I never really realized, nor ever actually considered, how the celebrities feel. A couple of minutes out there in front of the lights felt like a giant hand pressing down on me; I cannot begin to imagine what it must feel like for someone who has to live like that every day and minute of their existence.

"Should I just quit bludgeoning you with that interview, then?"

"Of course not!" Tomoyo sounded appalled, her eyes going round.

"But wasn't it you who just said that people like me didn't give any privacy to people like you?" I took a sip o f the punch in front of me, stifling a smirk while doing so.

"That was different, though," she answered with a sigh. "You are a friend, I do not mind sharing my life with you because I trust you. You can't be guarded with people you trust, that would just show poor judgement and friendship skills, not to mention rude."

I was taken aback. She considered me a friend? We have known each other for such a short time, and while I had the privilege of finding out about her past, she barely knew me at all. How can she suddenly have so much faith and trust in someone she barely met? Me especially?

"Come, I want to introduce you to some people." She said, dragging me off to mingle with the celebrities.

"This is my good friend, Stephan Mathieu," Tomoyo said when we stopped in front of a middle-aged man with hair the colour of rotten eggs. "Steph, this is Hiiragizawa Eriol."

To tell the truth, I had never even heard of the man, but the hand offered to me was amiable and I felt obliged to show some courtesy to a friend of Tomoyo's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hiiragizawa-kun. I hope you're enjoying the party?"

I nodded my head halfheartedly. Just before I was hauled off with Tomoyo again, I heard Mathieu say quietly: "Take good care of her, lad. She deserves it." I was confused by his statement. Perhaps I had misheard? Maybe the night's excitement and my imagination had ran away with me, though there is still a possibility...

I followed Tomoyo for a time, chatting casually with some of the people she introduced me to. Later in the evening, I noticed that she stayed less frequently at my side, spinning like a bumble bee to and fro, never stopping for more than a minute at each place of interest. I was somewhat discomfited because of that, I felt as if she wasn't the Tomoyo that I knew, but Ms. Tomoyo of the entertaining world, just as the other people here were. I felt as if I didn't belong, like I was from a different world where everything was dimmed in comparison to this one.

I sighed and made my way to the terrace, saying polite hellos to anyone in my path. Night had set in full swing with many brilliant pin pricks of stars against the backdrop of the velvety sky. I leaned against the railing and looked out the River Rhone, marvelling at the incandescent lights floating along its surface. It seemed as if a million fireflies had decided to perform a dance on the surface of the inky water. If I looked to the right, I would see a shadow of the enormous amphitheatre. The breeze was cool, as expected during the winter season, but I found it soothing, almost.

I heard light footsteps behind me drawing near.

"How do you do it?"

"What?" Tomoyo appeared by my side, also gazing out toward the river.

"This," I gestured around me, to the people interacting with each other inside, to her and myself. "How can you act so free and careless and open with me and yet be so guarded and strong out there?" Argh, I just sounded like a complete fool. I barely understood the words I was saying, but I felt some kind of need to reveal to her what was on my mind.

She looked at me for a long moment, longer than I would have dared to estimate. I was beginning to wonder if I offended her in some way (she is always so unpredictable) before I heard her replying, "I am the way I am because I have no choice. I do not like being bottled up in the cage of glamour, so I try to stay myself with those I feel close to. But I cannot be myself in front of the public because I'm afraid they won't like the real me, you know? I - it's like protecting yourself from harm."

Somehow, I understood what she meant with perfect clarity. One question was nagging at me though, "But, isn't this where you belong? These people are so much like you. Don't you feel closer to them than with me?"

Another long, silent moment passed between us. I thought I saw something different in Tomoyo's eyes, a flicker or shadow of something I couldn't quite place my finger on. With a sigh, she answered, "Even though I have much more in common with them, Eriol, I cannot fully trust them. I feel like I'm playing with a double-edged sword here. I can't reveal my secrets to them because they're too close to the media, and I can't be their friend because I feel I am too different from them, but I have to have connections with them. With you, I'm not afraid to say what I feel or think; I'm just comfortable with you."

"I think... I think I understand what you mean."

"You know what really gets to me?"

"What?"

"It is the way our society looks at beauty," there was almost ...vehemence in her voice.

"You mean art?"

She shook her head - cutely, I might add - and inhaled the cool air. "Not just art, the way people see one another. Women are expected to look one way, men another. Whatever happened to individuality? No one ever takes the time to consider the beauty of nature, it is the internet and television that draws their attention, not the variation of foliage during autumn or butterflies during summer."

I remained quiet, sensing as if she had more to say.

"...And art...art..." she sighed deeply. "Art is no more than superfluous ideals and expensive foolishness. People are forgetting what it is about, forgetting that it is not about the quality, quantity or just plain popularity." Here she chuckled dryly. "Have you noticed that? It just does not matter if you're talented or just damn brilliant, as long as you have the money and the social connections, you'll be famous. And then, as long as you keep a steady flow of second rate products, you're guaranteed infamy-dom." Tomoyo finished with another sigh and looked up to the starry sky.

I saw her shiver a bit and noticed that she only donned a light shawl over the light dress. I placed my arm around her shoulders, as I'm sure many guys in my place would dream to, and drew her closer. "It can't be that bad, can it?" I whispered, stirring the faint hairs on her nape.

She laid her head on my shoulder, "No, it's not. I'm just being a bit biassed out here; venting out my frustration with the world."

"If it helps, I also disagree with the way the systems works."

She smiled up at me, perhaps the only real smile she'd given out this evening, and I was very relieved to see it. "That does help a bit, but just a little."

"If you dislike the way art is viewed today, then why do you continue? Why not give up?"

She sighed and turned to the stars again. "I just can't help it, Eriol. Ever since I stared dancing, I just couldn't stop. It's like this ... force is propelling me forward. I guess the only way to describe it is: love."

Love?

I had never experienced love, neither did I believe in it. But what if she said was true? How could just a tiny thing like love do so much? Was it capable of achieving the impossible, like Tomoyo implied?

Tomoyo snuggled closer to me, and I blushed at the feel of her body pressed against mine. Her shivering had stopped, but I still did not remove my arm from her shoulders. There was something so familiar in holding her this way, like this is where I belonged. But that must have been the champagne and delusion talking.

"Watch the stars with me?" she almost purred.

"Sure," I murmured back.

I stole another glance at Tomoyo and was yet again amazed at how beautiful she looked enveloped in starlight. I have spent another day with her, and yet I felt as if mere hours had turned into an eternity. I found out more about her today than any amount of interviews would allow. I learned that she, too, had her deep and sad moments, and that I very much didn't like seeing her miserable. I discovered that she was more than a girl with an angelic appearance and a pretty dress; she was so much more and I suddenly wanted to know exactly how much. Turns out, I didn't watch the stars as much as I watched her.



tbc

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I want to write something angsty . . . and I will, after this story is finished. This chapter was more me taking about art through Tomoyo than anything else, sorry 'bout that. And since so many people have been asking me what happened to the candy in Your Sweet Lips... I really don't know ^^;; But I guess it melted, it was one of those sweets you suck on.