or said hello in passing, but nothing more than that.
Ivy and Ava are staring at me from behind him, odd expressions on their faces, a mixture of surprise and excitement, although I’m not sure why.
I look at him again, my voice soft. “Um, yeah.”
His hand gently touches my elbow as he leads me away a few steps, far enough that Ava and Ivy won’t overhear us.
It’s actually kind of cute how he shifts his weight between his feet and reaches to rub the back of his neck. He’s nervous, but I have no idea why.
“I’m just going to spit this out.” His blue eyes meet mine. “Would you go to prom with me?”
Okay, this is unexpected.
That bitch of a feeling blooms in me again, not as strong this time, nothing that grips my heart or flutters in my stomach. But this type of hope is more a gentle warmth that lets me believe for just one second that my life is normal, just like everybody else’s, and that I’m not bound to a marriage I don’t want.
Ten years.
Plenty of time to have fun.
Even if it’s not with the boy who first suggested it.
Temporary thoughts float through my mind of dressing up and waiting for Paul to arrive at my house. I can imagine the awkward feeling of first inviting him in and my mother wanting pictures, the scratchy band of the corsage he’ll put on my wrist, and the relief of finally walking out the door to go to the waiting car.
It’s all right there until reality comes crashing in that it will be Mason who does those things.
Always Mason.
The hope is gone again, and I hate myself for allowing the feeling at all.
“I-“ Breath leaks out of me, my shoulders withering. “I have to go with Mason,” I explain, “but if you’re okay with meeting me at the dance-“
Paul’s gaze shoots past me before I can finish the thought, eyes rounding as concern bleeds into his expression. He takes a step back and looks down at me.
“Actually, never mind. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He practically runs away from me like I’d insulted him, that or threatened him for as quickly as he moves. It hurts that he rescinded the offer so fast, confusion strangling me as I turn around to see what Paul is running from.
Damn it.
I’m moving now, too, because the last person I want to deal with is Ezra...or Damon...I don’t know which one, to be honest. But he’s walking straight to me, and I refuse to get caught up in their bullshit again.
I make it as far as Ivy and Ava, both of them glancing up to see who I’m trying to avoid.
Thankfully, Ivy snaps into protect-the-bestie mode and blocks his path, her mouth opening to tell him off when he grabs her by the shoulders, moves her aside without hurting her, and continues walking to me.
“We need to talk.”
“Don’t you have Hillary or Kelly to talk to? I’m sure you have a lot of planning to do since you’re going to prom with them.”
I don’t mean to sound jealous, but it slipped out anyway to land at his feet like a slimy, flopping fish. His mouth curls at the corner, those amber eyes glimmering with something I can’t name.
“That’s what we need to talk about.”
Shaking my head, I cross my arms over my chest, the hope I felt earlier completely dead, brutalized and murdered by the anger that’s overtaking me now.
“No, we don’t. And what did you do to chase Paul off?”
How dare he think he has the right to step in and demand I talk to him about anything? Also, how fucking dare he somehow threaten another boy who wanted to speak to me?
No, he didn’t yell, or growl in that way he does, but he did something to chase Paul all the damn way across the lawn, running as if his life depended on it.
“You don’t own me,” I snap, not sure where the words are coming from.
And then, there it is, that growl. Not as a warning or a threat, more in frustration when he loses his patience and grabs my elbow to lead me away like Paul did earlier.
Except his touch is much firmer, more possessive, sparks erupting over my skin and shooting up my arm from where our bodies are in contact.
Ignoring the way I feel when he touches me is impossible.
My legs move independently of what my mind wants as Ezra or Damon - again, I have no