“Are you sure?” Leanne squinted at me.
I swallowed, shifting under her scrutiny. “I’m fine.” The truth was that I wasn’t fine. I hadn’t been fine since I’d first seen him as a child, and it had only gotten worse as I got older.
Leanne didn’t look convinced. “Really,” I insisted. “I’m just going to lay low for the evening.”
Leanne checked the time. “The party’s going to start in an hour. You should come with us!”
“What party?” I asked. Normally I wouldn’t even consider a party, but I didn’t want to be alone tonight.
“The Seven Deadly Sins party! An alumni’s hosting it off campus. I’m going as lust.”
Oliver piped in. “She should be going as sloth. She’s in denial.”
“Look who’s talking, Gluttony,” Leanne said. “You blew through our entire stash of snacks.”
Oliver put his hands on his hips. “I was hungry. And I was doing you two a favor. I saw you muffin-topping the other day Leanne.”
I watched as Oliver got wacked by a pillow for the second time today. It was becoming a habit. Leanne had a better arm on her than me, and she managed to lay Oliver out.
“Ohmigod, Oliver, I’m so sorry!” she cried.
Oliver pointed a finger at her from where he lay on the floor. “That’s it. You’re wrath.”
***
It took two hours to get ready, mostly because Oliver designed outfits for each of us and used his roommate, Paul, to conjure them.
Leanne did end up dressing as wrath, saying it made her look “fierce.” Her deep maroon dress had convenient tears to illustrate her savagery—and her ample cleavage. Oliver made up her eyes in dark reds.
Oliver dressed as Envy. Only now as he wore an emerald tunic did I realize how regal he looked. His hair nearly reached his shoulders and looked so soft and silky it made me want to run my hands through it. His skin was luminescent; it sparkled and glowed in the dim light.
He really was going to make everyone envious, envious of his looks, envious that he wouldn’t look twice at a girl, and envious that no man could hold his attention for long. I wondered if all fairies were like that—flittering from one person to the next.
Paul was “dressed” as pride; in reality he wore his usual clothes. Paul had begrudgingly decided to come to the party. I was guessing that Oliver had harped about it until Paul gave in. I could empathize; Oliver had beaten out nearly all of my resistance.
I eyed Leanne’s outfit enviously. I wanted to look dangerous. Instead Oliver had insisted that I go as lust; I was going to look like a cute little sexbot, something I wasn’t too happy about.
Oliver was huddled with Paul, discussing his drawings. Paul, who had looked bored designing Oliver’s costume, had significantly perked up now that he was assessing the dress, and then me, and then the dress again.
I watched in awe as the dress materialized from nothing. According to Leanne, this type of conjuring—taking an idea and making it physically exist—was rare. Most conjurors could only duplicate an item physically in front of them. Apparently the Politica was looking into recruiting him. Big effing surprise; I’d hire him too if he could conjure my breakfast lunch and dinner.
And then Oliver held up the dress.
“No.” It was the skimpiest red dress I’d ever seen. The front had a plunging neckline and the entire back of the dress down to the skirt was bare save for a series of crisscrossing red ribbons.
I folded my arms. “I’m not wearing that skimpy thing. It looks like it went through a paper shredder. And why do I have to go as lust?”
“Because you are a siren—excuse me, the last siren. And you’re a vamp. I can think of no better definition of lust. And it’s not skimpy; the skirt goes down to mid-thigh.”
I huffed and puffed and lost yet another battle to Oliver. Reluctantly I put the dress on and was surprised to find that I looked good. Oliver touched up my makeup, making my lips a deep red color.
After we were all ready, we snuck out of the dorm, taking the damp underground passage. Apparently the staff and faculty did not approve of parties, so the persecution tunnels were really the only way to leave campus. So much for being considered an adult.
I heard a howl in the distance, and shivers raced up my back.
Oliver quietly swore. “These tunnels are so creepy.”
“You can say that again.” I rubbed my arms.