“There’s nothing to be done,” I say, trying to fight back a surge of raw emotion. I was looking forward to going shopping with Tess, believe it or not. I truly feel like … we could have a relationship if we tried. If I could just be myself. If she could just learn to relax. But that isn’t what Justin wants—at least not yet. I won’t soon forget how he took note of the diamond tennis bracelet I wore in the limo that day. He cares about Tess in his own, strange obsessive way.
Eventually, something will happen to push us together.
I just don’t think either of us will like what that thing is.
“So … match your corsage to this dress?” Chasm continues, trying to make light of the situation. He and Parrish exchange a look, and I can’t help but wonder who, exactly, is supposed to be buying me a corsage.
Parrish grabs a plastic container and pops the top as Maxx steps closer and opens one with a pair of peep-toe gold pumps inside; they have crystals all over them and, of course, red soles. More Louboutins. Inside of Parrish’s container, there’s a series of boutonnieres. As in, the flowers girls buy for dudes to wear to prom on their suit jackets, on the same side as a pocket handkerchief.
There are three very pretty, very red roses.
“Yikes,” Maxx says, reaching out to take one and holding it in his hand. “Why three of them?” He pauses and gestures loosely at Parrish and Chasm. “I mean, I get the symbolism behind it, but I can’t go tonight—not even as a chaperone. I’ve got that dinner thing with my parents.”
“They’re being weird again?” Chasm confirms, and X nods.
“Yep. Disturbingly insistent.” He sighs and sets the flower down before glancing over at me. “I have a bad feeling about tonight,” he says, but I don’t need him to tell me that. We all know something’s going to happen and, whether big or small, it’s going to suck serious ass.
“I do, too,” Parrish agrees, swiping a hand down his face. “But this certainly looks like a very strong suggestion to attend. I don’t imagine Justin would appreciate us backing out now.”
I stare down at the designer boxes strewn across the counter, and I feel sick.
This is going to be bad. It is. I just know it.
The only thing I don’t know is how bad, exactly, it’s going to be.
The answer: monumental.
Laverne’s white limo makes a return visit to the house to pick us up that evening, after I’ve been coiffed and powdered and prettied to Justin’s standards, my green and black hair hanging over my shoulder in a braid woven with beaded gold leaves.
The shoes are adorable, the dress is stunning, but I’m not comfortable wearing any of it.
The phrase gilded cage comes to mind. This outfit, as expensive, as beautiful, as it is, is just that. A trap. A prison. A posh, Babylonian nightmare.
The only part of the outfit that I enjoy comes in the form of three gaping boys at the bottom of the stairs.
“Holy fuck,” Chasm murmurs as I pause on the staircase and smile down at them. “I know Justin sucks serious ass, but you’re goddamn stunning.”
Maxx is already late to dinner with his parents, but I know he wanted to see me all dressed up. He grins as I finish descending the stairs, looking me over with a shake of his head.
“Even though Lumen’s going to be crowned prom queen tonight, damn. There’s no doubt that you’re the one who deserves it. You look like …” He trails off, but that’s okay. I know what he was about to say, and I don’t mind.
“It only bothers me when Justin calls me a princess—you can say it.” I pause when I hit the first floor, my left hand still resting on the newel post, and glance over at Parrish.
He’s completely silent, affecting his apathetic sloth demeanor the best he can since Tess has just walked into the room, but he can’t hide the emotion in his eyes. That beautiful, brimming, overflowing well of emotion that he hides inside of himself and releases only for … me.
“You look … marginally better than normal,” he chokes out, and Tess gives him a sharp look.
“Don’t berate your sister,” she tells him, holding the box of boutonnieres in her hand. Paul waits just beside her, but his eyes aren’t on me. Instead, he looks at Parrish—and even Chasm—with pride. And, happily, he isn’t on his phone which is a damn blessing.
I take the boutonnieres—glad that Maxx took the third one and hid it in his pocket earlier—and study the boys I’m taking to prom.
Chasm is first, in his black-on-black-on-black tux, slacks, and tie. He’s in Seamus-approved mode tonight—unfortunately his dad is also chaperoning—but that doesn’t make him any less handsome. Actually, he looks like a CEO or something. There’s power in the way he stands, in the way his amber eyes take in a room. He’s too smart not to be dangerous.
