Tuesday 12 March 2013

A3: S2 - Beauties & Butterflies

I've come to the conclusion that being robbed was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

Quite genuinely, if that hadn't have happened, I can't even imagine where I would (or wouldn't) be right now. Lady Fate sure does work in mysterious ways.


About a week after I was robbed, I was contacted by my dear friend, for reasonable reasons because of reasons, I shall call him Cameron. Cameron had recently graduated from the University, but had been a social and academic figurehead, and everyone knew who he was. He contacted me because of his girlfriend, who for reasonable reasons because of reasons, I shall call Rose. Rose was a third-year journalism student and was in desperate need of a story for one of her assignments. Cameron asked if I could help and introduced us.

Rose was lovely (and overwhelmingly beautiful) and I answered all her questions the best I could. For one, it was kind of cathartic to talk about it, and two, as a journalist, if I was in that situation I'd be so grateful if someone could help me out. I answered her questions, she thanked me, and said if I ever needed a journalistic favour in return, then I knew who to call. 

Little did I know, that she'd return the favour in such a dramatically unexpected and life-changing way.

After painstakingly managing to get time off of work from each of my jobs, pushing around essays and coursework, and just generally getting my affairs in order in preparation for going abroad, I found myself with one spare evening. I was sat in the library, blogging (my new home since laptop-gate) when I noticed a message had popped up on Facebook. I read it, and audibly squealed in the library. 

Because one thing I hadn't known, was that Rose actually worked as an intern for the famous blogger who came to do a speech at our uni. The same famous blogger who's new book I bought and read cover to cover. The same famous blogger who'd spoken alongside Blake Samuels - the man I'd stuck my stickers all over. The same famous blogger who'd followed me on twitter and sent me direct messages of advice about blogging. Rose was employed by the one and only, Zoe Griffin. And THIS, is what the message said:

"Hey honey, I know this is a long shot. But I was just wondering if you'd be interested in working an event tomorrow- Zoe Griffin's Book launch in the Google Campus building in central London? She is  looking for someone to work from 7pm-9pm for £10 pounds p/h and she will cover all expenses. All you'll have to do is meet and greet people and pour drinks. I intern for her and help run her blog It will be a great opportunity to network with people from the media, journalism and showbiz industry - I know is covering it and hello and now magazine will be there. Just thought I'd ask as I know you like this sort of thing! Let me know. x"

I swear to god I nearly went into cardiac arrest right then and there on the stiff, blue, polyester library carpet. And what made the whole thing even more unbelievable, was that around all this hectic mess and organisation of Poland, I had that one evening free. Hell, even if I didn't, I would've dropped everything to make sure I did.

I tottered through Shoreditch in London in my stilettos and found my way to the Google building, my heart in my throat. I had experience working at a bar, but I genuinely had no idea what to expect in there. Rose had mentioned there would be celebrities, extremely influential and important public figures, press, media, and millionaires. I was placing bets with myself on how many Dior coats and Dolce and Gabbana gowns I'd inevitably end up spilling champagne on. 

I'd been to a novel launch before - in fact right at the beginning of this silver adventure, a novel launch was where I'd first met Fitzwilliam G. Montgomery, and my life had changed forever. My heart swelled with the thought of who I could meet in there and the wild  possibilities of where my life could go as a result. But this time it was a little different. I was staff now. There'd be no casual swanning off for photographers and firm handshakes. This was to be hard graft. As I entered the Google building and Rose escorted me around, I decided I needed to be two things to make that evening a success; exceptionally hard-working and exceedingly charming.  

The night did not disappoint. When I first arrived, the room was in complete disarray. There were people rushing around everywhere still putting up decorations, packing hundreds of goody bags and laying out a plethora of snacks and treats on a big banquet table. It was awfully exciting. I felt like I was on 'My Super Sweet 16' or something, when you see the complete shambles of it all being thrown together haphazardly beforehand, yet you know it'll all come together perfectly in the end.

 I was assigned on champagne duty (well, if I must) and spent two solid hours handing out three glasses per second to some of the most beautiful people I've ever seen. The room was packed with models, stylists and fashionistas, and aside from the excitement, I did feel a little... out of place. I'm quite a self-assured person, but then in that room, I was by far the ugliest and the largest, which was not particularly fun to feel. Regardless, I ploughed on through the night making sure no guest went thirsty.

There was one man, however, who kept returning for champagne. He looked in his late twenties with curly dark blonde hair, tanned skin and bright green eyes. He was tall with sharp cheekbones and a light dusting of facial hair, dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans, a thick-knit cream jumper and a tweed blazer with tan brogues. 

Walking perfection.

 Every time he took a glass, he would smile at me shyly and I could feel myself blush. I'd never seen a real life beautiful person before. And not as in someone pretty. As in someone so divinely beautiful that they look Photoshopped in real life. You never really imagine the people you see in magazines and in the movies to actually exist with such beauty in real life.

...They do.

I turned to Rose when he'd left for the third time, "Sweet Jesus, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life." I murmured under my breath and she giggled.

"Funny how he keeps coming back, hmm..." She turned away slowly with a knowing grin on her face. I smiled like a schoolgirl. The next time he returned, we spoke.

 (Now, as usual, this is going to seem like all made up fairytale bullshit, but I SWEAR TO GOD this was all real.)

I smiled.

"Back again?"

"Can't stay away." he grinned, placing his slender fingers around the stem of a fresh champagne flute. He had a foreign accent of which I couldn't quite determine. I lent forward to fill his glass and he lent forward ever so slightly too. His face was so close to mine I could smell his heavenly scent, and I had to focus all my efforts on not spilling the champagne. My face began to flush and I could feel his eyes on me. When his flute was full, I decided to crack out one of my killer 'moves' (me attempting to be seductive and ending up a cringe-worthy excuse of a human being) and deliberately let my gaze linger downward before making a point of quickly flicking my eyes up to his, and looking him straight in the face. 

Sweet shit. 

That face.

"I think..." he said, smiling with a touch of drunkenness about his eyes, "I think you are the most beautiful girl in this room."

I nearly laughed in his face. If there was one thing I was not, it was that. I'd never seen such a beautiful crowd in my life. They were all stick-thin with impossibly shiny hair, almond eyes and cheekbones carved by diamonds. I tried not to think about it.

"Uh thank you" I said, looking away.

"With the best figure, I've ever seen." He said, quieter. His expression was sincere but my smile faded quickly. I felt uncomfortable. This was the sort of stuff which happens in the movies, when the dashing young billionaire vampire ignores all the beautiful girls and only has eyes for the poor, average 'real girl'. But all of a sudden I just felt very self-conscious. Of course, it was a dream come true to have someone like him saying that to me, but I just felt awkward, because it was just so blatantly not true. It was like an American High School drama where he was the quarterback and I was the lonely, plump, geeky girl who he would compliment to make her day because he just could, whilst knowing it is complete bullshit. I smiled politely and moved swiftly on.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Kai" he murmured. His eyes were impossible. "German" He said after a pause, tipping his head slightly to the left and smiling, his golden curls bobbing on his forehead. "What is your name?"


"Katie... Nice to meet you Katie." I shook his warm, outstretched hand and I felt myself melting. A cold shower was most required. "Which company are you from?"

"Oh I uh... just a friend of Zoe's." I lied/hoped/dreamed. "What about you, what do you do?"

He cast a shy look downwards, then returned his gaze with a full megawatt smile and eyes that I was sure would be the end of me.

"Oh uh, I'm a model."

"Of course you are." I muttered, kinda hoping he hadn't heard. He did, but laughed. "No, I just mean.. look at you. You've got a great face on you." I cringed at myself but he continued to smile.

"And so do you." He said quietly. I couldn't take it. It was a feeling I'd never felt before. Under any other circumstances I would've been bouncing off the walls with elation, but I guess I just didn't quite believe it. Looking at the other girls in the room, I couldn't even understand why he was even bothering to talk to me. Every single beautiful female head was cast in our direction, as if him passing through had left a wake of pure sex behind him. A dark little part of me mused whether this was all a practical joke or a dare set up by the beautiful people. Or perhaps he saw I was 'different' and wanted to try and give me a pity boost because he knew he could. 

But, even if it all was, HELL, I was not going to complain.

"Do you live in London?" he asked.

"Yes... Well, North London" I half-lied. "Yourself?"

"Berlin, but... I travel to London very often." I nodded and he smiled at me for a long time. I laughed nervously, very aware of our audience.

"What?" I smiled in a tiny, awkward voice.

"Listen, I'm in Berlin for the next few days, but I'd love to take you out for dinner in London when I'm back." I was lost for words. My mouth just kind of half-opened and closed again. "Could I take your number?" I nodded slowly, determined not to make a sound at the high risk of it being a squeal-laugh right into his beautiful little face.

He handed me his iPhone, and with trembling hands I put in my name and number and handed it back to him. 

"Thanks," He said with a grin. "I look forward to it." He raised his champagne flute toward me in a toasting gesture before disappearing back into the crowd once more. Instantly, Rose was by my side.

"What the hell was that?!" She quizzed, but I could barely manage more than a squeal. I dragged her into the stock room and told her everything before calming myself down, forcing myself back to reality and regaining hold of myself. The rest of the night's stresses mattered no more. Screw being nervous or shy - a German supermodel just asked me out for dinner.

Secretly in my head, I forced myself to be realistic - I knew he wasn't going to call. Even if by some beautiful gift from Lady Fate he actually did have the intention to, I'd stupidly saved my name under 'Katie Oldham' - like hell he was ever going to remember who that was come tomorrow. 

But I exhaled deeply and closed my eyes with a smile. Who cared? That'll be a story to tell for the rest of my life, whether it was all fake, real or otherwise. Somewhere out there in the vast old world of planet earth, there's a German supermodel strolling round being all gorgeous with my phone number saved in his phone. I did a little 'Ha!' to myself, and got back to work. 

But that did not turn out to be the most exciting meeting of the night. Oh boy, oh boy, did it not. But... You'll have to wait and see I guess.