The Golden Lily Page 0,79

campus in the family carpool.

"I hope I'm ready for this," I muttered, as we pulled into the parking lot. The dress had distracted me so much that I hadn't had time to ruminate over my other concern: going to a dance. All my old social anxieties returned. What did I do? What was normal here? I hadn't had the nerve to ask any of my friends.

"You'll be fine," said Eddie. "Your boyfriend and Micah will both be speechless." I unfastened my seatbelt. "That's the third time I've heard 'your boyfriend.' What's going on with that? Why won't anyone say Brayden's name?"

Neither of them answered right away. Finally, Jill said sheepishly, "Because none of us can remember it."

"Oh, come on! I'd expect that from Adrian but not you guys. It's not that weird of a name."

"No," admitted Eddie. "But there's just something so... I don't know. Unmemorable about him. I'm glad he makes you happy, but I just start to tune out whenever he talks."

"I can't believe this," I said.

Brayden was waiting out front for us, no doubt having been there for at least ten minutes.

My stomach fluttered as he looked me over from head to toe. He didn't comment, though his eyes widened a bit. Was that good or bad? I flashed my student ID to get him in the door, and Jill almost immediately joined Micah. Eddie's brief romantic flare was gone as he shifted into business mode. A brief look of pain crossed his face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.

I touched his arm.

"You going to be okay?" I asked softly.

He smiled back. "I'll be fine. Just have fun." He walked away, soon melting into the crowd of students. That left me alone with Brayden. Silence fell between us, which wasn't uncommon.

It sometimes took us a few minutes to warm up and get the conversation going.

"So," he said, as we walked further inside. "You have a DJ. I wondered if it'd be that or a live band."

"Our school just had a bad experience with a live band," I said, thinking of Angeline.

Brayden didn't press for details and instead gazed around at the decor. Fake cobwebs and twinkling lights were strewn near the ceiling. Paper skeletons and witches hung on the walls. Over on a far table, students were scooping punch out of a giant plastic cauldron.

"Amazing, isn't it?" said Brayden. "How a pagan Celtic holiday has become such a commercial event."

I nodded. "And a very secular one. Well, aside from attempts to merge it into All Saints Day."

He smiled at me. I smiled back. We were safely in familiar academic territory.

"You want to check out the punch?" I asked. Some fast, bass-heavy song was on, drawing lots of people to the dance floor. Fast dancing wasn't really my style. I didn't know Brayden's take and was afraid he might want to join in.

"Sure," he said, looking relieved to have a purpose. Something told me he'd been to as many dances as I had: none.

The punch provided us with a reason to discuss sugar vs. artificial sweeteners, but my heart wasn't into it. I was too concerned about something else. Brayden hadn't said one word about my dress, and it was filling me with anxiety. Was he as shocked by it as I had been?

Was he politely holding back his true thoughts? I could hardly expect compliments if I wasn't giving them, so I decided to take the plunge.

"Your costume's great," I said. "That's from the theatrical company, right?"

"Yes." He glanced down and smoothed out the folds of his tunic. "Not entirely accurate, of course, but it'll do." The tunic was knee-length, pinned on one shoulder, and made of very light, off-white wool. He had a woolen cape over it dyed in a dark brown that was accurate to the time period. Even with the cape, a fair amount of his arms and chest were exposed, showing a runner's body with a lightly muscled build. I'd always thought he was cute, but it wasn't until this moment I realized he might actually be hot. I expected that to trigger a stronger feeling in me, but it didn't.

He was waiting for me to say something. "Mine's not entirely, um, accurate either." Brayden studied the red dress in a very clinical way. "No," he agreed. "Not at all. Well, the cut's not that far off, I suppose." He thought for several moments more. "But I still think it's very pretty on you."

I relaxed a little. Coming from him, "very pretty"