Guides for the Pre-Engagement Life

In mid-July, I was in New York with Michael for a party hosted by my publisher and boss, Tim Fulton. Around that time, the tabloid articles of Michael and other Olympian's wild party in Las Vegas all came out at the same time, and it wasn't a bother to me anymore because I had prying eyes of his close friends to tell me what went on, and the ones who were taken had openly admitted that the ones that were single and mingling brought in a few girls.
Ryan said that if I ever got angry at Michael again, he would happily take the blame since he was the naughtiest one in the group, and he begged me to forgive him, even though I had no idea what he was on about. Well, until I lifted up an article that referred to Michael as a flirt or someone who was easily influenced.
I didn't actually get mad at Michael, I was more annoyed at Ryan because it was his and another three single Swimmers who brought girls into the private pool party in the hotel. I grew to trust my significant other after our fight, but what bothered me was that people wouldn't stop talking about it.
When we attended Fulton's party, it was all they talked about.

Unwanted Attention

Fulton was a recognized owner of various magazines and was a publisher for some young Authors such as myself, and when he favoured you, everyone knew it because the invites wouldn't stop rolling in and he would public praise the work if it became a best seller.
The first book about relationship that was based on my first year as Michael's girlfriend was quite popular amongst the women in the company, and they were excited when they heard that I was actually turning up after multiple calls and emails. They were actually excited because I said that I was bringing Michael. The women wanted nothing more than that.
In fact, I wanted to leave him at home, but he didn't want that.
He claimed that public appearances together would show that we're still dating, but I knew that he just said that for the sake of wanting to come along and mingle.

"Okay, how do I look?" I walked out of the bathroom of our hotel suite and showed off the dress that Lia chose for me, and I bought it for the sake of her not nagging me. It was new and I found it to be a waste of money because I never saw myself wear it again, but my best friend said that a red carpet event with fancy people was the best ever reason to dress up. Seriously though, I wasn't feminine enough to love dressing up.
"Wow," Michael grinned.
I wore a beige dress that reached midway of my thighs, it was quite fitting so it practically curved around the right places, but it loosened up around the neck line. The main attraction to the dress was the back, which curved midway and exposed most of my back. It was matched with black heels and matching beige party bag. My hair tied into a slightly messy bun and natural makeup look. And all that was instructed by my fashionable best friend.
"Ugh, I really don't like dressing up," I groaned as I slumped onto the nearest chair. I exhaled slowly and looked over at my date.
"I think I'll have to stick around you tonight," He commented as he adjusted his blazer.
"Why is that?"
"Someone's bound to nab you while you're wearing that dress," He chuckled as he walked my way and helped me to my feet. "So, are we ready now?"
"I don't really want to go."
"You're quite snobby, Anne."
"I am not," I disputed. "I'll prove it," I added as I grabbed his hand and tugged him all the way to the door. "Let's go."
"Okay, okay," He laughed.

Everyone was dressed up. They were all pretty with their makeup and dresses, their hairstyles with their dates and what not. The reason I didn't want to go because I knew exactly what people would ask me and talk to me about, and sometimes, repeating my answer over and over with a fake smile wasn't my cup of tea. Fulton said that the party was not only for the 50th anniversary of when his Father opened the company, but it was for a charitable cause, since his wife had recently been diagnosed with Breast Cancer.
I tried my best to skip the red carpet walkway, I much preferred the back route, but because every reporter there spotted Michael, I was forced onto the carpet and posed in the photos with a rather fake smile. The reporters were - of course - asking about the engagement ring, his wild party antics in Las Vegas and questioned for my opinion. I didn't answer, he didn't answer, so we simply walked passed.

"Why are you not in the mood today?" Michael whispered with a concerned tone as he placed his hand on my waist and led me inside. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm under the weather lately from my medication," I lied. I didn't want to tell him that I was being childish and didn't want to go.
"I'm here if you need me," He muttered before we entered the hall and saw the elaborate scenery. Fulton loved to outdo his previous parties, and because that party was special, everything was really... Overdone...
"Roxanne Miller," Tim Fulton and his wife greeted Michael and me as soon as we were spotted. However, it wasn't just the host and his lovely wife who spotted us and we went through a whole process of the usual exchange of handshakes, peck on cheeks, the unnecessary introductions, brief conversation and pretending to be called or spotting someone else of interest.
"Thank you for your generous donation, Ms Miller," An intern commented when I finished the conversation with her. She was star struck though, as well as the other women who bombarded me so they could have a conversation with my date. I didn't even get to talk properly before they snubbed my words and turned their attention to the Olympian, who never let go of my hand to make sure I wouldn't leave his side.
"I'll be right back." I finally had enough and excused myself to the bar and sat on one of the stools, my head leaned against my hands as I flopped over the counter. I promised that I wasn't going to drink any alcohol during the time I was recovering and taking medication, so I resorted to ordering a glass of non-alcoholic cocktail. Once I got the glass, I peeked towards where Michael was, and he was entertained by the ladies of the Wedding Magazine - my ex-co-workers - and I knew he was in good hands. I snuck out to the side balcony for some fresh air. I inhaled deeply at the smell of New York's busy streets, the bright lights and the faint view of the Statue of Liberty, the yellow cabs made their typical beeping noises and the people still wandered around. I, somehow, missed New York.
"You could always move back here, you know."
I turned around and smiled. "Oh, wow, Fulton Junior! You actually cut your hair!" I greeted him and gave him a tight hug. He was my roommate for a year, and with the shorter hair and clean shave, I finally saw what he looked like when he wasn't messy.
"Hey, it's for my Mom," He shrugged and smiled. He was a replica of his Father, however, he had dimples, his Mother's defined nose and taller. "I thought you came here with a date? That boyfriend of yours is the talk of the night, ya know."
"Yeah, yeah," I nodded and sighed before turning back to the view. "I know that."
"Then why are you shying away here? You're very anti-social sometimes," His slightly British accent seeped through as he leaned against the railing beside me. "The whole time I've lived with you, you're hiding away in your room doing work. Loosen up, Fox."

Fulton Jr. called me "Fox" because he misheard my name when we were introduced.

"And it's my first time seeing you all dressed up like this," He added as he eyed me up and down. I could feel his stare, it was way too focused on to me that I took a step back and tried to change the topic to whatever came into my head.
In that case, I was too engulfed in the idea of losing my privacy that it became the first thing that came out of my mouth.
"Well, what do you expect, Fox, you're dating that Olympian there." Fulton Jr. flicked his head back to beckon towards the door. I turned my head lazily and peeked through the window and saw that Michael was not too far from the door, he probably wanted to come my way, but because everyone decided to talk to him, he got delayed.
"I can't help who I fall for," I mumbled as I looked down and leaned my forehead on my arms. I made a long groan drag on before I stood back up when I heard the knob of the door turn. Fulton Jr. gave me a tap on the back and whispered, "It doesn't have to be this way, Fox. People are just expecting too much from you, you deserve better."
I stared at him for a while as he excused himself and walked away. My attention then fell to the Swimmer who stood by the door with a cocked eyebrow.
"What was that about?" He calmly asked.
I shook my head. "He just wanted to catch up with me. That was Fulton's son," I explained.
"He cleaned up pretty well," He sarcastically complimented as he reached for my hand. "I think you shouldn't leave me around there. All these women are like in a prowl, and I don't think it's a good idea that we split up. Seems like some people are hunting you down too."

Other than Kenneth and Luke, I realized that Michael wasn't fond of Fulton Jr. as well. I was a magnet for trouble.

Throughout the whole night, I mingled. It depended on who I talked to though, because some people pressed their nose into topics that didn't need to be discussed, such as the scandals, articles and rumours that surrounded Michael. I dismissed the topic or the other person in the conversation would do it for me as soon as they spotted the wrinkle of my nose. When Michael was around, people asked about the engagement, the possibility of being invited, the plans of a family and how we managed to make it through.
It was like they were judging us from the way they spoke, their gaze and the expressions on their faces whenever we said something that wasn't what they expected. Personally, I was flustered by the amount of questions that surrounded my personal life, and by the time it hit midnight, I begged Michael to leave because I was no longer in party mode.
"Why are you acting like-" He couldn't finish his question because once we walked out, there were paparazzi taking photos and videos of us. We quickly lightened our mood and pretended that we weren't headed to a bit of a dispute, and we certainly didn't want to them to see that there was tension.
"Michael, when are you popping out the ring?" One of them asked as he faced the video camera right in our face. We faintly smiled, but Michael had to wrap his arm around me to shelter my face when I cringed at the brightness of the light from the camera.
"Were you two just arguing right now? Was it about the party at Vegas, Roxanne?" The other one pushed on. "Or is it because of the whole cheating thing that went on a few months ago? Are you two even okay to date? Is the pressure getting to you, Roxanne?"
I shook my head and continued to tell them that I had no comment as I cowered in Michael's grasp. He, on the other hand, told everyone to give us privacy, though some left, the ones who wouldn't stop asking questions were still right in our faces.
"Roxanne, are you feeling better from your operation? Is it going to be trouble in paradise if you can't have a baby?" Oh, that crossed the line.
"Hey, that's none of your business," Michael growled as he finally called for a cab. When I looked up at his face, he was frowning and his expression wasn't too happy. "Can you respect our privacy? That's something that only we can discuss." He scolded the paparazzi as the cab pulled up and we quickly went in. Once the door was shut, he told the driver where to drop us off and sat in silence. I leaned against his shoulder and also fell quiet.
From all that pressure, unwanted attention, too much criticism, questions that I couldn't answer, the amount of repetition of some things I said, I was exhausted. I fell asleep on the cab ride home. I wasn't really sure why I was acting up, I was moodier than usual.
Why was I so moody? What was wrong with me?

Unwanted Opinions

The following day, the photos and videos of those paparazzi were all over the internet, and they claimed that Michael had an outburst and I cried. I didn't cry.
Why the heck would they assume that?
The other thing, was when I went to visit Fulton, everyone in the Wedding department commented that I looked pale and that I looked sick and that I was a bit too moody. They rambled on and on that I began to ignore them. My brain shut them off as I was sitting at my old cubicle and rummaged through the saved columns I wrote about my life since I moved in with Michael, and reading through what I wrote, I realized that my life wasn't as private as I wanted to be. I didn't write about my operation though, but people found out either way. I felt really exposed.
How do celebrities put up with it? How did Michael stay sane through it all? What did I get myself into?

"Oh, Fox, you're here."
I looked over my shoulder while placing my hand on my chest from the fright. "Jesus, Junior! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" I panted. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought your artistic environment is at home?"
Fulton Jr. swept his fingers through his tamed dirty blond hair, his smile curved and those deep dimples formed. Like how I reacted about Luke, I was surprised why Fulton Jr. didn't have a girlfriend. He was roughly Derek's age, or was it my Older Brother?
"Fox, why are you dozing off?" He interrupted my train of thought. "I said I was here because Dad gave me a job to lead the Artistic Magazine. And I'm here in particular because I needed to talk to the boss of this place," He repeated himself.
"Wow, you've really grown up," I teased as I gave him a friendly tap on the arm.
"Whatever pays the bill and put food on my table. Besides, all this is apparently mine one day, so that's something I need to get used to," He explained added with a smirk and grin at the end. "Where's your guy?"
"Filming an interview," I replied rather uninterested.
"Sounds like trouble in paradise, what's the haps?"
I shook my head and returned my gaze to the computer screen, where a window was open and a picture of Michael and me leaving the clinic the week I found out that I needed surgery. I tapped on the screen and looked back at Fulton Jr. again, my lips pursed tightly against each other and my nose wrinkled in annoyance.
"Was this before or after your operation?" He asked worriedly.
"No, this was before. But I'm merely saying that I have no privacy anymore," I complained. "People make all these random comments to me on the street, I get these looks when I'm with Michael, I have critics telling me that I wear crap clothes, and some criticize me for not being able to provide a kid. I mean, come on, I'm not infertile."
"Who cares what they say? I'm not one to butt into your personal life or tell you what to do, but I think you should've gotten used to the fact that you're dating a well-known guy."
I closed my eyes and tossed my head back, followed by a groan. I began to rub my forehead as I mumbled, "Sometimes, I do wonder what life would be like on the other side, when he's not famous?"
"I assume you'd be here, because isn't this what you originally wanted?"
I blinked and fell quiet. Fulton Jr. was right, and I gave up some of these things for the sake of being with Michael. But it wasn't right for me to doubt again, because I've done it before and it wasn't pretty. I loved Michael, and that was that.
"Listen Fox, I don't want you to doubt about your relationship, but I think that you and Michael are living lives that are way too different," Fulton Jr. commented as he gave me a pat on the shoulder and walked off. While I sat there, amazed at his sudden statement.
Was that true?

No, I can't doubt!

I met Michael at Central Park, at the very spot he gave me the Promise Ring and we sat on the same bench. He was already there, posing and signing things for the bystanders. It made me realize how often those types of things occurred.
I shook my head and took a deep breath before I made myself visible to Michael and the people around me. When he turned around, I saw that he had been carrying a bag with him. He waved to the people whom he posed with and quickly approached me, his lips pressed onto mine and his smile aimed right to me.
"You look troubled," He announced as the smile on his face faded. He led me to sit on the bench and asked, "Is it about last night?"
"I- Well- Um-" I stuttered and muddled up all my words.
"Anne, ignore what people are saying."
"I am, I am," I murmured under my breath as I turned away from him. "But have you noticed that our lives are completely different?"
"What are you talking about? Are you having a mid-twenties crisis too?"
I bit on my bottom lip and shrugged. "I don't actually know, but I looked back at my columns and my book again and saw how far we've gotten ourselves."
"Isn't that supposed to be how it works? If two people fall in love and when we're certain that we want to spend the rest of our lives with that other half, we make it this far?" Michael looked hurt, that or we were both starting to think about our relationship.
To be honest, I felt like he began to take notice of what I meant though.
He sat there and placed the bag between us. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows on his thigh as he his head was against his palms. His gaze was at the couple on the opposite bench, the ones who were cuddling and all happy. We were like that.
Ever since things got way out of hand, everything seemed to have fallen into a downward spiral. Both of us knew that and even tried living passed it, but we couldn't people were just pressing in between us.
"What do you suggest we do, Anne? Because we can't keep having these breaks," He mumbled and his voice slightly shaky.
"I want us to work, Michael, but I think I'll stay here for a while, and you concentrate on your swimming. Maybe we're both being pressured into something we're not even ready for."
"I'm going to Irvine, California next month. I have the Pan Pacific Championship coming up, and you know that I can't get distracted with that." He reminded me. "And it would really be nice if you kept standing in those stands, cheering for me, you know."
"I will always cheer for you, Michael."
"Then if you want us to work, I guess you'll turn up to Irvine and cheer for me on my first swim," He sounded like he was giving me an ultimatum. "If not, then I'll understand your decision, Anne. I'm not going to force you into something you don't want to be part of."
"Hey, I didn't say that," I argued. Michael began to feel cold and distant, he must've been really hurt by what I said. I felt so stupid and being a pain in the ass again.
"I'll see you in Irvine, Anne," He stood up and walked away. I sat there amazed at what he just did. He walked off, leaving me there with the bag he brought with him.
I didn't want to make a scene. So I quickly found some way to distract myself, and that was when I took note of the bag and grabbed it. Rummaging through the papers that covered it, and when I got to the bottom, there was a small chest that was padlocked and there was a note on top. Michael's handwriting scribbled, "I'll give you the key when it's your birthday, until then, you can be patient right?"

Ah, stupid, stupid, stupid me!!