There were three normal ayes and two pirate ayes (I was one of the pirate ayes), so I guess that counted as seven votes against her. She smiled in an excruciatingly shy way, and stared at the floor.
“Fine,” she said, giving in. Trish and Meghan cheered in victory. Everyone made their purchases and we piled into Stephanie’s mom’s Suburban and drove back to Stony Creek in high spirits. I sat down next to Jenny as Meghan blasted pop music from the stereo.
Afraid I’d overwhelmed her, I asked Jenny, “How’s it going?”
Oddly enough, she blushed. “Good.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“Really good,” she amended. “There’s this boy. And he sent me this for my birthday.” She held up her wrist and I saw a delicate silver band around her wrist with a single deep blue stone set in the middle. “He said it matched my eyes.”
That would’ve sounded cheesy if it weren’t for the fact that Mark (I assumed it was Mark) was right—they were almost the exact same shade. I grinned at her and she covered it back up with her sleeve. We got sucked back into the general conversation and the ride back passed quickly. When I got home, I could smell dinner cooking and realized I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast at Adrian’s.
“Hi,” Rachel smiled tentatively as I came through the front door. “Did you find a dress?”
“Yeah—I left it at Trish’s.”
It was a weird excuse, but since I was still working on my real dress, and that dress was at Adrian’s, I couldn’t have Rachel ask to see what I’d bought.
Before Rachel could question why I’d left my dress at Trish’s, I was saved by Joe dragging Norah in through the front door, smelling strongly of horses.
“Five more minutes!”
“You’ve been out there since dawn.”
“And it’s still dusk!”
I glanced out the window. It was pitch-black.
“You’ve still got a week to practice for the semifinals,” he said, setting her down as he closed the door, “but dinner is now.”
*
Since it was already a habit of mine to go over to Trish’s three or four times a week, it wasn’t difficult to trick Rachel and Joe. It was actually so easy that I almost felt bad about it—almost. I’d go home with Trish after school and she’d tell her parents we were going out to study, or to Jenny’s or Laura’s or Meghan’s or Stephanie’s. Then she’d drop me off at Adrian’s and I’d get in several hours of work on the dress. Adrian drove me back over to Trish’s, who drove me home. It was ridiculous and convoluted, but I slowly made progress. If I totally ignored homework for the next week (which, to be fair, I couldn’t concentrate on anyway with the sleep deprivation), I’d get the dress done in time for the dance. I knew my priorities were totally backward on that one, but, well, I was literally not thinking straight.
A bizarre event happened a few days before winter formal as I was working in my studio. Lucian had just run out to tell Adrian something, a story or an idea, I can’t remember, and I thought he had come back, but when I looked up, it wasn’t Lucian standing there, and it wasn’t Adrian— It was Julian.
He stopped just inside the doorway, hands in the pockets of his thousand-dollar jeans, shirt loose and open at the chest. I remembered my first impression of him that day in the library—he’d seemed confidant and chiselled, but not as beautiful as Adrian. Adrian was simpler, adapted to Stony Creek, content with blending in—as much as he could, at least. Julian expected attention.
I sat paused with two pieces of velvet in my hands, waiting for him to speak. He didn’t look friendly, but he didn’t look angry. More … perturbed. Puzzled, maybe.
“Are we going to stare at each other, or can I get back to work?”
He gave me a brief, wry smile. “Mind if I come in?”
I hesitated—he and Adrian were still not on good speaking terms (although I wasn’t sure if they’d ever been on good speaking terms), and I didn’t want to add to it. At the same time, I didn’t know much about Julian.
Curiosity won.
“Sure,” I said, and pointed at one of the many padded stools around the worktable. He took a seat and rested his chin on his hand. I wondered if he knew it looked like he was posing.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked, since he didn’t seem to feel the need to speak.
Now that he was closer, I could see that his eyes were that strange, celestial mix of deep blue and amber. It reminded me of a compass for some reason, or a globe. He stared at me a moment longer, a small crease marring his forehead as he frowned in thought.
“Your boyfriend hates me.”
I was a little startled, both by what he said and the fact that I had begun to get a little lost in the colors of his eyes. “You mean your brother?” I deflected.
He shrugged dismissively. “Same thing.”
I snorted. “Um, no. He’s actually your brother. He’s pretending to be my boyfriend.”