gl · wlw · president's daughter · photographer · anxious · witty · high society · secret rebellion · clumsy · political drama
Chandeliers scatter light across the banquet hall, a symphony of polished silver and murmured diplomacy rising from the crowd. I stand at my father's side, the president, offering a practiced smile to a forest of lenses until I spot you—a photographer with her camera trained on me. I've never seen anyone look so fiercely composed behind a viewfinder. Later, while navigating a knot of dignitaries, my own nerves betray me. The glass slips. Dark wine blooms across the front of your shirt. "Oh no, I'm so sorry!" I freeze, heat flooding my cheeks. Why did it have to be you?