The Thrill Is Gone

Callum was going to keep mouthing off. He’d been planning what to say ever since he figured out exactly who Harry was, but it seemed that his body was conspiring against him, his stomach was an ally of Paulina. And when he parted his lips to speak again, instead of words coming out, he puked. It was disgusting, vile, and it landed rather neatly on Paulina’s lap. Her eyes widened in horror, nose wrinkled in disgust, and her first thought was to push him off so she could run the hell out of there and tidy up, but that thought vanished almost as quickly as it had arrived. She remembered how he’d cared for her in the aftermath of the fight, the gentle manner in which he’d looked after her, and she felt guilty for having even thought of abandoning him. She couldn’t just leave him there. That’s not what a true friend would do.

As gracefully as she could, she helped him sit up. He had placed her hands on either side of her and gripped onto the chair to keep him up as he puked, so he had to be helped back into a normal sitting position. Once he was sitting up on his own, she mopped up as much of the puke as best she could with nearby cloth napkins. Her stomach grew weak as her hands made contact with the former content of his stomach, but she remained composed, not wanting to make to big of a fuss.

“Sorry . . . so sorry . . .” muttered Callum, sweating profusely.

“It’s okay.” Paulina reassured. “It’s just a little puke.”

“I told you to be sensible about your drinking!” hissed Baron Waldegrave. “Honestly Callum, this isn’t some pub, it’s a prestigious dinner and you’ve –”

“He didn’t drink too much,” interjected Paulina, her voice firm as she lied. “He’s not felt well lately. This morning, he called to tell me that he had a fever and his stomach felt off, but I told him not to mind it because he had to be here. So please don’t accuse him of overly indulging when it’s his health that’s made him like this.”

“I had no idea he was feeling ill.” Baron Waldegrave’s features softened. “Mr. Key, you should have told me.”

“I didn’t want to inconvenience you.” Callum lied.

“It wouldn’t have been an inconvenience, not at all.” Baron Waldegrave’s brow furrowed as he thought of what to do. “I suppose we must return to the house now. Yes, yes, of course we must. Come now, Mr. Key, we will have you seen to.”

“I’ll look after him,” offered Paulina. “That is if that’s alright with you.”

“But Miss Balcázar, you have a lunch with Senator Kennedy tomorrow afternoon,” reminded Lord Fellowes, not wanting her to inconvenience herself.

“Lord Fellowes, if it is fine with you, I will go to your home in the morning and prepare for the lunch.” Paulina said.

“Hmm, no, that will not do. What if you do not have enough time? I have a better idea. I shall fetch Edmund to Baron Waldegrave’s home with your things. Then a car will be along to take you to the lunch and to bring you back once it’s finished. Yes, that’s exactly what shall be done.” Lord Fellowes was pleased with how he’d resolved things in his mind.

“I don’t want to inconvenience you, Sir.”

“You are my guest, Miss Balcázar,” was all he said. And it was said in a manner that made it perfectly clear that his mind was made. “Waldegrave, Edmund will be at your home in about an hour. Please do have your gentleman there to meet him at the door.”

“I will, Fellowes.” Baron Waldegrave assured. “Let us be on our way, now.”

Farewells were quickly uttered, and when Callum was able to stand, they began the long walk out of the ballroom. Baron and Baroness Waldegrave walked ahead of them, their heads held high as they attempted to garner all the attention so no one would notice the puke stained dress Paulina was wearing or the pale looking Callum. Their attempt didn’t work. Those in proximity to them took notice of the young man that was being helped along by dark haired young woman, and when they saw the state of their dress, they knew why it was that he was using her arm for support. Paulina did her best to seem composed through it all, like the Waldegrave’s, she kept her head up and there was a small smile on her lips to make it seem as if the puke didn’t really bother her, but despite her best efforts, there were still whispers.

And when people realized that Callum was the young man that had flirted with Bercow’s wife, the whispers spread out further. People were beginning to say that he’d been drunk when he flirted with Sally; others said that he started drinking out of embarrassment, and others circulated even more ludicrous ideas. If . . . no, not if – when word got back to his father that he’d been drinking heavily at such an exclusive event, Callum was going to be told off and threatened, the usual course of action that the Prime Minister took. But for now, Callum wasn’t the least bit concerned about what his father would say. His mind was busy scolding him for having been such an idiot. He shouldn’t have drunk so much. He shouldn’t have brooded. Who she was with was none of his business, he knew that, but there was a part of him begged to differ.

From her place beside Callum, Paulina dared to tear her gaze from up ahead and glanced to the side, in hopes of seeing Harry somewhere. She knew that she wasn’t going to be able to personally say goodbye to him, but she at least wanted to give him a smile as a farewell. Unfortunately for her, Harry was crowded by a group of businessmen that were thinking about donating to one of his charities, and didn’t even notice her walk out.

“Ya don’t have to come,” whispered Callum, noticing her distracted look.

“Don’t, be an idiot,” she said, softly. “You need to be looked after, and I'm pretty sure you’d rather it be me than them.”

He shot her a halfhearted smile. “I really am sorry about your dress. Didn’t even have that much to drink, but I suppose . . . well I don’t know.”

“It was probably something you ate. I mean, let’s face it, you need help walking so you are a little drunk, but you’re not slurring which definitely means you’re not drunk enough to be throwing up.”

“That is true,” he muttered.

“It had to have been something you ate.” She said, very matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry though. We’re nearly at the lobby so you’ll be able to relax soon enough.”

As opposed to the crowded ballroom, the lobby was sparsely populated, and the few people lingering there, were far too engrossed in their own conversations to even notice the small group as they walked towards the entrance. Baron Waldegrave had hardly opened the door, when he called out for his driver to start the engine. They’d stayed long enough at the dinner. Now, he simply wanted to go home to begin planning how he would explain things to his friends. He didn’t want them to have a negative image of Callum. Callum was a hardworking, intelligent young man, and his father was a very influential politician, so he had to be treated accordingly. Perhaps he’d tell a few friends that Callum had a food allergy, that something in a pastry made him throw up. That was a reasonable enough excuse. It’s not like people choose what they’re allergic to, and sometimes, a person doesn’t even know they have an allergy and when they eat it, a mess ensues. The more he thought about it, the more certain Waldegrave grew that that was the excuse he’d be using.

The drive to Eaton Square wasn’t a very long one, but it was silent. Baron and Baroness Waldegrave stared out the window ahead, not even trying to make conversation with their guests, Callum slumped against Paulina, using her shoulder as a place to rest his head, and Paulina just sort of sat there, wondering if it would be considered rude to text while she was in the car. It wasn’t like anyone was talking, but then again, some people hate when others are on their phones in their company, that’s how Lord Fellowes was. In the end, she decided against texting there. Her message would just have to wait until they got out of the car.

The Waldegrave’s home was beautiful; it went up several stories and had a commanding front, though if Paulina was to be honest, Lord Fellowes home was infinitely more beautiful. This house was elegant, and fit for a man of Waldegrave’s status, but Fellowes’ home was more elegant, it harkened centuries gone by, that was why she preferred it, and that was why she wasn’t as nervous about being a guest in Waldegrave’s home.

“Come now, Miss Balcázar, allow us to give you a tour of our home,” spoke Baroness Waldegrave.

“I thank you very much for the offer, Ma’am, but I think it’d be best if I look after Callum, wouldn’t want him throwing up again.” Paulina replied.

“Ah, yes, we wouldn’t want that.” Baroness Waldegrave took in a deep breath. “In that case, allow me to show you to your chambers, we’ll put you right next door to him.”

“Do you not think it more prudent if I were to stay in his room? He might throw up in the middle of the night, and we wouldn’t him choking on it. That’d be terribly unfortunate.”

“In his room?” questioned Baroness Waldegrave, unsure if she’d heard right. “There’s only one bed in there, and . . . there’s a couch, but I daresay it wouldn’t be the most comfortable of things.”

“The couch is fine,” reassured Paulina. “I’ll be able to properly look after him, really.”

“Alright, well then I’ll send Evelyn with some blankets and pillows for you. Also, when Edmund arrives, she’ll send your clothes up there, so keep an ear out.”

“Yes Ma’am, thank you.”

With that taken care of, the group ascended the stairs, Callum and Paulina only went up to the second floor since his bedroom was just down that corridor, and the Waldegrave’s went up all the way to the last floor, their master bedroom took up the entire fourth floor of the house. Although Callum’s room wasn’t as grand or large as the master bedroom, it was still very spacious. There was more than enough room for two people to comfortably inhabit, and the couch that Paulina had been led to believe would be small and uncomfortable, proved to have enough space for three people to sit on and was comfortable to the touch.

“It’s a really nice room.” Paulina broke the silence. “Then again, I don’t think people like them have bad bedrooms. It’s like everything’s out of a catalogue.”

“Yeah, it is.” Callum nodded in agreement. “You know, if you want . . . what I mean is, you can have the bed. It’s loads better than the couch.”

“You threw up so you’re getting the bed.” Paulina declared. “And before you start arguing with me, just be quiet and go take a shower, because you stink.”

“Don’t you need a shower?”

“I do, but I don’t have any clothes with me, so I’ll wait until Edmund gets here. Now go shower. I’ll keep myself busy by trying to find a television in here.”

“You have to press this.” Callum grabbed a remote from a drawer and pressed the large red button. “The TV comes up from the dresser.” And just as he said that, the television began to lift itself. “They wanted to have televisions in the room, but they didn’t want to ruin the décor so they had them put in like this.”

“That was smart of them.” She stepped towards the television and inspected it. “So what remote controls the actual television?”

“This one,” he grabbed another one and handed it over to her. “I’ve got my own recording device in here, so you can watch those programs. I . . . I’ll go shower now, excuse me.”

With Callum showering, she whipped out her cell phone, expecting not to find any texts or missed calls, but there was a text from Harry asking where she was. She immediately typed a response, telling him that she’d had to leave the dinner, because her friend fell ill and that she was sorry she didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Harry concerned about what was going on, made his way to a secluded area and called her just to make sure everything was alright.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Harry after she explained what happened. “Can’t believe he threw up on you, that’s, disgusting!”

“I know,” she muttered. “But it was an accident.”

“Well I reckon it was, but he could’ve hurled somewhere else, didn’t have to be your lap.” Harry leant against a wall. “Are you alright though?”

“Yeah, I'm just a little smelly, but that’s nothing a shower won’t cure. I'm just waiting for your uncle to send me some of my things.” She rubbed her tired eyes. “How’s the dinner going?”

“To be honest, it’s dull. I'm actually contemplating going home. I know Will has to stay till the end of it, but I'm absolutely knackered so I may just head home in a few. Alistair already said he’d bring the car around.”

“Alistair’s there? Why didn’t I see him?”

“He was patrolling the area like he always does.”

“Oh, okay. I would’ve liked to see him though. I always feel like I don’t say thank you enough to him.”

“Thank you for what?”

“For letting you borrow his car and helping us sneak around.”

“That’s his job, though; ya don’t have to thank him for that.”

“His job is to keep you safe, not to help you sneak around with your girlfriend.” She groaned when she realized how snippy she sounded. “Sorry for sounding snippy. I'm just tired and cranky.”

“S’alright, you’ve had a long week.”

“That’s no excuse. I mean you go through this every week. How do you do it?”

“Not sure, I suppose it’s because I was raised in this. It’s all I know. And need I remind you that I'm always running off with you, so you’re how I keep sane.”

She burst into a fit of laughter.

“Why ya laughing?” he asked, unsure of how his words had caused such a response.

“Because you just said I'm your sanity,” she said. “And I'm not . . . well, lets just if I'm your sanity, then you must be mental.”

“Oi!” he exclaimed, playfully. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

“It’s not?” she feigned ignorance. “I guess I'm gonna have to make that up to you then.”

“I reckon you are.” He grinned. “So when will I see you again? Are you returning to Oxford tomorrow afternoon?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, you see, I sort of . . . well do you remember Senator Kennedy? That guy whose speeches I'm always listening to?”

“Yes.” He replied.

“The thing is, he was at the dinner, and I somehow ended up talking to him. We had a full on political conversation that lasted a really long time, and I think I impressed him, because he asked me to do volunteer work at the embassy in London to help reach out to Americans living in the area to register to vote and to do some campaigning for Obama. So I have a lunch with him and this other guy from the embassy, tomorrow.”

“That’s fantastic.” He was genuinely happy for her. “You’re so damn impressive. You know that, don’t you?”

Her cheeks flooded with color and she was grateful they were talking over the phone. “Not even,” she muttered.

“Yes, you are. You met your hero and you were so brilliant that he wants you to help out at the embassy, that’s amazing, really it is. I swear the day, we go public, people, are going to be wondering why someone as accomplished as you is dating a bloke like me.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what they’re gonna be wondering.” She laughed. “They’re gonna look at my grades and ask themselves why I'm going out with someone that forewent higher education.”

“And I’ll have to go to university to not seem like such dead weight.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered, voice full of affection.

“It’s true though. You are brilliant, and just so you know, my aunt’s absolutely smitten by you.”

“Really?” she liked Lady Fellowes, but she wasn’t sure if the older woman actually cared for her or if she was just being polite.

“Oh yeah, kept going on about how charming and amiable, you are. Apparently, she’s never met a more pleasant young lady in all her life. And want to hear something hilarious?”

“I always do.”

“She casually mentioned to me that you were single.”

“You’re fucking kidding me!” she exclaimed, covering her face with her free hand.

“I swear I'm not.”

“How’d that even come up?”

“Well, we were dancing, and she mentioned how gracefully we’d moved on the dance floor, and then after praising you, she mentioned you were single and gave me a smile.” He chuckled at the memory. “Apparently, she thinks we’d do quite well together.”

“I seriously can’t get over that. Your aunt is so rad, and I'm honestly so relieved to know that two people in your family like me.”

“Two? No, it’s more along the lines of three.”

“Who’s the third?”

“My uncle, obviously,” said Harry. “He invited you to this dinner, which means he thinks very highly of you, and with my aunt being as smitten as she is, then you are sure to be quite cared for by him.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“And just so you know, when we come out, my family will be as taken with you as I am. Even my Gran, won’t be able to find fault with you.”

She pursed her lips together. “What’s gotten into you? You’re being overly sweet, right now.”

“Can’t a bloke be lovely to his girlfriend?” he asked. “But if you must know, I want to have another go with those SPANX.”

“Aye Dios Mio!” she exclaimed, face red as a tomato. “Shut up about those. They’re so embarrassing.”

“I happen to think they’d be quite fun to take off.”

“Hah! That’s because you don’t know how much of a bitch they are to put on. I'm gonna buy you guy SPANX, just so you know how unsexy they are.”

“They don’t make those for blokes.” He declared, though he honestly hadn’t a clue.

“They do actually, and just for that I'm gonna pick some up for you.”

“Fine then, buy them and we’ll have ourselves a SPANX orgy.”

“And this is my cue to leave.” She giggled. “I do seriously have to go though.”

“Oh alright,” he sighed. “Give me a ring then, when you know what’s goin’ on tomorrow.”

“I will.” Paulina promised.

“Okay then, well, love you and all that.” He whispered softly into the phone.

Even though she’d heard him tell him that he loves her, loads of times before, it still had the power to make her into a giddy mess.

“Te amo, Güerito,” she spoke into the phone. “Goodnight.” And then she hung up.

She set the phone down beside her, and closed her eyes, relishing in the fact that his aunt had basically told him to ask her out. This was the perfect end to an excruciatingly long week, and her elation was almost enough to make her forget why it was that she was in Callum’s bedroom. But then, of course, Callum made his presence known and their tense exchange at the dinner table was once again at the forefront of her thoughts.

“You love him?” he asked, quietly, his features not betraying his emotions.

She slowly turned to look at him. “I do.”

“Why?” he blurted out.

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone can ever really explain why they love someone. I . . . I just love being with him, I love the way I feel whenever he’s around, and the way he makes me laugh. He’s a great guy.”

“He accused you of doing . . . doing things to me.” He reminded.

“I said he’s a great guy. I never said he was perfect.” She let out a heavy sigh. “Look, I get why you don’t like him. You saw him at his worst. He was a complete asshole that day, the absolute biggest jerk. And I'm not going to make excuses for him. What he did was wrong, and I made him suffer for that. I refused to talk to him for a month, because I was furious, humiliated, but more than that, I was devastated that someone I cared so much for had treated me like that.”

“Then why’d you forgive him?”

“Because I love him,” her voice was small, almost childlike. “And he made it up to me. Have I forgotten what happened? No. But I’ve chosen to move past that, to not let it define me and him.”

“But if he did it once –”

“Why are you being like this Callum?” she asked, at a loss for his behavior. Even Alfred hadn’t been such a hardhead about it.

“I think you deserve to be treated better, you deserve to be respected.”

“He does respect me.” She declared. “And you should respect me enough to not think me stupid enough to be with someone who’s not good enough for me. I know what I'm doing, Callum. I know what I'm getting myself into, and if I didn’t think that what I have with him is special, I wouldn’t be risking what I'm risking.”

“And what are ya risking?”

“Everything,” she said, quietly. “The moment the world finds out about me, I'm going to be everywhere. There are gonna be people criticizing me, because I'm chubby. There are gonna be people calling me names, because I'm American. I'm not gonna get to keep being normal, and if he wasn’t worth it . . . if what I feel for him wasn’t real, I wouldn’t put myself in that position.” Her eyes shone with sincerity. “I'm going to be put under a lot of scrutiny whenever we decide to go public, I know that, and I know that there are gonna be a lot of people that are gonna want to be my friend, just because of who I'm dating. And I don’t want to make friends with them. I want to keep my friends, because I trust you guys. I trust you, Callum. I adore you. And I don’t want you to not be my friend, because of Harry.”

“I don’t want to be mates with him, though.”

“I'm not asking you to. Would I love it if you guys could grab beers and be friendly? Yes! I would fucking love that, but I know that’s probably not gonna happen. That’s why I'm not asking you to be friends with him. I'm just asking you to be civil.”

“I don’t . . .”

“I promise that I won’t even take him to rugby matches or if any of you guys throw a party, I won’t take him there. I give you my word. I won’t purposely put him in your guys’ path, but if you were to see us somewhere, I’d really appreciate it if you could be civil, and I don’t mean cold civility where it’s obvious you hate the person and are just trying to tolerate them, but I mean warm civility, even if it’s just to say hello,” she rambled. “Can you do that for me? Please? Because I really don’t want to have to choose between him and friends, that wouldn’t . . . I don’t want it to come to that.”

“It won’t come to that,” he muttered.

“Promise?” she looked up at him with hope filled eyes.

“Yes.” He reassured. “As long as he respects you, I’ll be civil. We’ll all be.”

“Wait. What? You’re not gonna tell the guys are you?”

“Well, I’ve got to tell them that you’re back with Henry. I just won’t tell them who it is exactly that Henry is. That’ll come out in its, own time.”