"I can't believe we're actually going to the dance," she whispered, staring up at him.
He glanced down at her, a surprised, wanting sort of look flickering across his face. "I've been looking forward to it for a long time," he whispered back.
With their hands firmly linked, they hurried toward his car and the waiting ballroom.
*
After giving their tickets to Mrs. Pratchett, the English teacher standing guard by the door, Claire and Matthew ducked under the bronze-painted branches and into the ball.
It was gorgeous.
Fairy lights and the glittery leaves that Claire had sort of helped Emily and Amy with hung everywhere. Piles of miniature pumpkins and sparkly acorns decorated the tables. In the corner was a DJ, his computer wired into several sets of enormous speakers. A few couples were already on the dance floor, and Claire noticed with a selfish sort of pleasure that her dress was much prettier than any of the others she could see.
"Looks nice this year. Last year was such a flop—that stupid trick-or-treat theme was really pathetic." Matthew rolled his eyes.
"I think it looks fantastic," Claire said. She sounded like a little kid at her first carnival, and it made her grimace. The was no need to remind everyone in earshot that she'd never been to a dance before.
Emily came tearing up behind her, dragging Randy along by the hand. "Sorry—I couldn't find the tickets! I forgot that I put them in the dumb secret pocket of my bag. It's, like, five inches wide! I didn't think it would be that hard to remember where they were." She rolled her eyes at herself.
Next to her, Randy smiled, looking amused and pleased at the same time. Claire tried to shoot Emily a hey-this-looks like-it's-going-really-well glance, but Emily wasn't paying attention. Amy had come up behind her and was whispering something in her ear.
Emily shook her head, her gaze shifting in Claire's direction.
"C'mon." Emily grabbed Randy's hand and jerked her head in the direction of the dance floor. "Let's go dance."
Claire grinned. This was what she had come for. What she'd been so jealous of all those times that Emily had gone to the dances while Claire sat home and ate Lisbeth's brownies. She wrapped her arm around Matthew's waist and leaned into him.
"Right behind you," she said.
Matthew put his arm around Claire's shoulders, and the two of them followed in Emily's wake.
The DJ was actually decent. Amy and Claire and Emily ended up in their own little corner of the dance floor, with their dates hovering nearby. The three of them made a perfect circle, dancing like they were at their own private party. It was like they'd been hanging out for years, and Claire let herself enjoy it. It was like sneaking a drink out of someone's mom's liquor cabinet—thrilling and forbidden and probably a little bit stupid. But right then, she was having too much fun trading hip-checks with Emily and singing along to all the songs with Amy to worry about it.
The pounding bass gave way to the sweet hum of a slow song, and Matthew caught her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.
"Hey, you," he said. "How about a dance?"
"Are you kidding?" She grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."
He slid his arm around Claire's waist and spun her away from the girls. She held onto his shoulder as he twirled her, her dress fluttering behind her like a butterfly wing. Matthew smiled down at her. It was a sweet-as-cider moment.
As they danced, the heat from his skin radiated through the thin fabric of her dress. It poured across her middle and wrapped around her waist where his hand rested against her. Claire's skin felt starved inside the green silk.
She tilted her face up as Matthew bent to kiss her, while the fairy lights twinkled overhead. His mouth begged hers for more, and the press of his fingers against her hips made Claire ache to be alone with him.
He pulled back from the kiss, just a fraction of an inch, the length of his body still crushed against hers.
"Oh, God," he whispered. "I don't want you to go tonight. There's got to be some way for you to get out of it—just this once." His lips grazed her ear and she trembled.
"I can't. I want to. I—oh, Jesus," she breathed, as he tugged her into the darkness behind a glitter-flecked tree, running his fingertips across her bare collarbone. She caught his hand and held it, not capable of thinking while he was lighting a fire beneath her skin. "Matthew, it's not something I can just make go away. I would if I could, but you know how serious this naming thing is." In spite of the molten look in his eyes, Claire's desire went cold—an ember turning to ash. He knew she couldn't give him what he was asking for—he knew the pack came first tonight.
Does he even get how much it took for me to be here at all?
"I know." He looked hard at her expression, his own face falling in response. "I shouldn't have asked you to do that."