I quickly finished the rest of the food, stuffed the empty box back into the bag, and headed downstairs. Marching into the kitchen, I tossed the box into the trash and made a beeline for Elias, who was sitting casually on the couch with a glass of water, scrolling on his phone.
“Elias,” I said firmly, planting my hands on my hips.
He glanced up, his brows lifting slightly. “Yes?”
“I want to go with you.”
His lips twitched as though suppressing a laugh. “Oh?”
“And no,” I continued before he could say anything else, “it’s not because of pity or because I feel burdened or whatever other reason you’re overthinking in that big head of yours. I want to go because—” I hesitated for a split second, then pushed forward, “—it’ll be my first time at a fancy party, and I want to see how the rich do it.”
That did it. He laughed, a full, warm sound that echoed in the room.