now blissfully engaged to a guy who’d once made a promise to ruin her life and hated her guts but now adored the ground her fancy heels walked upon. I was morbidly single. She obviously had game, and I could use a few pointers.
Hours dragged. Music played. People laughed. When it became apparent that Knight and Poppy weren’t going to acknowledge us, too engrossed in their own little universe, Daria dragged me to the dance floor and convinced me to shake my butt. It was nearing midnight, and the acute sense of time running out slammed into me.
“The plan isn’t working,” I complained to Daria as she twerked against my thigh, throwing her head back and forth to “Lollipop” by Lil Wayne. I felt like a broken Cinderella. My carriage was going to turn into a pumpkin soon, only this was not a fairytale—more like a Halloween nightmare. I hated that Knight could see what I said if he wanted to. Even from across the room.
“Honey, making a guy jealous is like getting a fine ass. You have to work hard for it.” She waved me off, twirling in place and sipping on her champagne. “Act like you don’t care.”
“I do care.”
“Ugh, I know. Which is so awful, isn’t it? Guys are trash.”
We danced until my feet screamed in agony, threatening to fall off. The entire party seemed to pour itself onto the deck for the ten-second countdown welcoming the next year. Everyone stared at the dusky sky, dotted with stars, holding their drinks. I realized to my horror that, other than myself and Daria, everybody was hugging a significant other they could kiss. Jesus Christ. How had I not noticed it before? We were going to look so pathetic.
Well, maybe not Daria. Daria had a famous fiancé with NFL plans in his future and an engagement ring any girl would murder for. Yup. This sounded like a classic me problem.
I spotted Knight and Poppy standing in the far corner of the area, his head bent as she whispered into his ear. A shudder ran through my spine like an earthquake. The countdown started. I couldn’t unglue my eyes from them, even though I knew I should. That the entire point of being there was showing Knight I didn’t care.
“Ten!”
“Look at me, Luna. Not at them.” Daria snapped her fingers in front of my face.
“Nine!”
“Jesus, Saint Lu. He wants you to react this way!”
“Eight!”
“Luna.”
“Seven!”
“Luuuuuuunaaaa!”
“Six!”
“Don’t make me do something crazy.”
“Five!”
“Bitch, you’re more basic than an android.”
“Four!”
“Last warning, Rexroth.”
“Three!”
“You asked for it.”
“Two!”
“Actually, I always wanted to know…”
“One!”
I didn’t have time to catch Knight dipping his head farther down to kiss Poppy. Daria clasped my chin, tilted my head in her direction, and pressed her lips against mine as claps and shouts erupted around us, fireworks exploding in the air and in the pit of my stomach. Her soft, warm lips crashed into mine, the flavor of her watermelon lip gloss invading my mouth. I groaned, not used to the pliability of kissing a girl. Or kissing, in general. The only boys I’d ever kissed were Knight and Josh. And Vaughn, I guess, if you could count it.
God, why wasn’t I stopping this? I let Daria deepen our kiss, my eyelids dropping shut of their own accord. She felt surprisingly good, and not just physically, which I guess was expected. When her tongue slid past my lips, I knew the shouts and barks around us were because of us. We had an audience. Daria always had an audience. Only tonight, she’d decided to put me in the spotlight to make a point.
I reciprocated, tonguing her mouth, shuddering at how hot and sweet the kiss was. I realized I’d changed. I was no longer the girl who hid behind her parents, and Knight, and Vaughn. I had desires. I was real. I was whole.
With and without Knight, I was complete.
Daria had stolen the attention from Knight—my attention from Knight—and forced him to pay attention to me. A genius move, if I really thought about it. Maybe that’s why I cupped one of her cheeks as our tongues danced together, my eyes still closed, and felt both of us smiling into that kiss. A smile that spoke a thousand words we never said to each other:
Thank you for having my back.
Thank you for tonight.
Thank you for being the wonderful, crazy, ruthless you.
“All right, show’s fucking over,” a gruff voice grumbled, and I felt the fabric of my dress pulled back.