Sixteen
The Opera in Coleum was apparently the equivalent of The Oscars or Fashion Week. Everyone who was anyone was there, including some actors and musicians that were there on vacation. There was even a red carpet, which had a whole slew of photographers all eager to get a picture. I entered with Apollo, with no where to hide, and the dress that left little to the imagination.
Everly and Queen Lucy entered ahead of us. We followed behind, and it was the two of us that everyone seemed to be obsessed with. “Apollo! Rose! Apollo! Rose!” They shouted our names.
At one point, Apollo stepped back so that it was just me on the carpet.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Don’t make me do this alone.”
“I’m not,” Apollo said, “but I am giving them what they really want. They can get pictur
