[Wattys 2023 Shortlist] Nora Wright is no longer the person she used to be.
Once an up-and-coming crime reporter, she now sticks to fluff pieces that are safe. That don't trigger the crippling anxiety she was left with after a traumatic experience t...
"Ian! Stop! You're walking too fast!" Nora called out, laughing slightly as she struggled to keep up with him in her heels.
She was constantly running to keep up with him - a combination of his long legs and her short ones. The sequins and fringe on her dress tinkled as she trotted just behind him while reaching up to make sure her headband was still in place.
The woman silently cursed herself for not grabbing a jacket before they left the apartment, but she didn't have one that matched the red flapper dress. And she hadn't thought that it would get that cold tonight. It was still early fall in the city and the nights were relatively warm more often than not.
Ian laughed as he finally came to a stop, turning to face his girlfriend.
"Should learn to keep up, Nor," he replied, raising an eyebrow at her.
Nora huffed as she scampered up to his side, looping her arm through his, hoping it would slow him down.
"Heels were not meant for running, Slick," she retorted as they started off at a slower pace down the sidewalk.
"Then why did you wear them?" he asked, glancing down at her.
"Because it pulls the whole look together," she mumbled as he chuckled. "And Margot made me wear them. She picked out this whole damn outfit. Delivered it last week and swore she'd kill me if I didn't wear it."
"I, for one, think you look rather brilliant," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Trust me, Nor. You're going to have fun tonight."
Nora wrinkled her nose slightly, fighting to ignore the small spike of anxiety that hit her.
"A party? Me? Fun?" she deadpanned, looking up at him.
Ian studied her, seemingly going back and forth on how to respond. As though they hadn't already had many discussions about going to this party tonight. He finally smiled slightly.
"We live together. I do know how many times you've watched 'The Great Gatsby,' you know," he replied. "And didn't Margot say they got that band you're always watching on YouTube?"
"I do love Postmodern Jukebox," Nora said with a sigh, glad he went that route.
"I'm here with you. There's nothing to worry about. Just try and have fun," he said soothingly.
"I will. Besides, Margot has been going on and on about this thing for months, she'd kill me if I tried to dip out," Nora said with a dry laugh. "Don't know how she got the Whitehall Mansion."
"Is it that famous?" Ian asked.
"Uh, yea," Nora said with a snort. "It's notoriously hard to book and the place is infamous for all the riotous parties they had back in the 20s. Margot came over with a bottle of champagne the night she got it booked."
Nora went silent as her eyes widened the closer they got to the venue. The sidewalk was crowded with a red carpet, people and photographers. She came to an abrupt stop, her body freezing as pressure settled in her chest.
Shit, was she really ready for this?
"Are you alright?" Ian asked softly. "You need a moment?"
Nora shook her head slightly, as though that would fix everything, before looking up at him and offering a tense smile.
"I got this," she said. "Come on."
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
