Page 29 of Don't Be in Love

Anytime I was on campus late, it was to leave the library. And I didn’t go prancing through the gardens after. But walking through them now, I wish I had.

The majority of the space behind campus was clean-cut lawn decorated with iron tables, chairs, and trees. It simply looked like a vast forest where fairies took advantage of the seating, only lit by the small sconces attached to the school’s verandas. A werewolf or Mr. Darcy wearing a billowing coat could pop out at any moment.

“The Dinner happens in there.” Sabrina pointed to the one lone stone building across the grounds. A pawn set apart from its chess pieces. “It’s designated for events and other university-hosted things.”

As the main campus’s veranda ended, I swung my umbrella over our heads as we stepped onto the pavers stamped into the grass, like lily pads in a pond. My feet wobbled in my heels.

We followed the stream of students, filing into the building. Many of whom wore designer dresses. Archival pieces. Right off-the-runway pieces.

“Is that a chandelier?” Mia whispered, tilting her head back as we entered the lobby. Her box braids dipped down her ivory dress, a pearlescent hairclip twinkling.

“That’s a chandelier,” I responded, watching the grandiose gems refract light off the walls. “Really accentuates the spiral staircase, don’t you think?”

Mia spoke in a terrible British accent, “I wouldn’t go that far. The staircase is only made of a maple wood, nothing tasteful like a Parisian marble.”

“Oh, a Parisian marble you say?” I twirled my fake mustache.

“Guys,” Sabrina glared at us as she checked our coats at the desk.

“Her words are divisive. But her eyes are saying we’re hilarious,” I told Mia.

“Americans.” Sabrina’s hair bobbed as she shook her head.

Leaving our coats, we walked past the desk and up the spiral staircase. Sabrina’s face quieted as we joined the group of luscious fabrics and tapping heels. Her neck arched every time a male with brown hair popped up in front of us.

“Do you think Dorian’s already here?” she fretted.

“I’m not sure. But we’ll have fun either way.” I reached for her hand and squeezed as we reached the second floor.

“A ballroom with floor-to-ceiling windows. I think the chandelier just became less impressive,” I commented, taking in the view.

The ballroom was shaped like a half-moon, four long tables satisfying the back of the room along the windows. They were draped with black tablecloths and crystal flatware. At the front of the space, students were mingling, some even dancing to a small group of musicians playing violins and cellos.

“Are we sure we’re in the right place?” I asked. “I knew Townsen events were … lavish. But it feels like we’ve entered some Secret Student Society and they’re going to chop off a piece of our hair for admittance.”

“Oh, we’re in the right place. I just saw Brad from Psychology II picking something out of his teeth,” Mia pointed to Brad, who was indeed trying to get something out of his teeth.

“I need tea,” Sabrina exhaled, going straight to a side table that housed a tea dispenser and porcelain teacups. I stood back at the edge of the entry way as Mia followed her for the cucumber sandwiches.

Where was he?

I didn’twanthim to be here. I wanted tonight to be easy. Easy would be fantastic. Chat with my friends, eat some sad excuse for a pie, convince someone’s affluential, spoiled college kid that I was social yet professional enough to work for their CEO of a mother when I graduated. Not keep a third eye on Dorian all night.

But I didn’t catch any left dimples or even a head of platinum hair. Most of the men wore the same attire: black dress pants that matched their black suit jackets with white button-downs underneath.

Then someone moved, and there was Dorian.

I saw the silver rings on his fingers first, and the crease of his dark brow next. His navy blue jacket was off, thrown over a chair somewhere. Shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing two tattoos. His smile was abundant. A painting of joy. His eyes were closed with heavy laughter. Strands of hair fell forward like branches as James held onto his arm trying to finish a story. It was how I found him the night we met, but wildly different in so many ways.

I hadn’t realized how long I had been staring until his laugh ceased and his gaze caught me like an arrow to the chest.

Shit. Should I wave? Turn around and pretend like I hadn’t been staring? The dinosaur trick? Maybe I—

His face bloomed into something earnest. I was expecting discomfort. A sweeping glance in the opposite direction. But he stared right back at me. Silver rings rubbed at the side of his neck.

Placing a hand in his pocket, I watched as his lips mouthed one word:Wow.

I shook my head, as if to say,Do you ever stop?