He laughs quietly and opens the door, leading me out. He probably doesn’t want to risk getting on my mother’s bad side now that they’ve met, but he knows he won’t be able to say no to me.
We walk down the steps, and he takes the bag from me as I spot the limo sitting at the curb. Walking over, I stop and let him open the door.
“Hey!” voices drift out.
I see J.D., Ten, and Manny all sitting inside, snacking and drinking sodas, but if I know Ten, there’s alcohol going on somewhere in here.
“Hey, why didn’t you guys come in?” I ask as I climb inside.
“A prom picture with four guys?” J.D. teases. “Think of what Lyla would Facebook about that.”
Yeah, right.
But then the car door closes, and I dart my eyes over to see Misha leaning down and peeking in the open window.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I’ll see you at prom.”
What?
He starts to walk away, and I stick my head out of the window. “Misha!”
He turns around, walking backward, and I notice his truck behind him. He must’ve driven here and the guys pulled up after. “Don’t worry,” he calls, “and have fun. I’ll be there.”
I stare after him, completely confused. He’s taking the bag with him, too. He’s not going to do anything without me, is he?
Dammit.
I sit back in my seat, frowning. Now I don’t get to walk into prom with four men.
I feel the limo start moving, and I notice the inside is also silent. Looking up, I see Manny, Ten, and J.D. all staring at me.
And then J.D. speaks up. “Who’s Misha?”
The Baxter Hotel is decked out when we arrive. White lights glow in the trees and beautiful, turn-of-the-century lanterns flicker with small flames, leading us into the ballroom. The fast music vibrates out into the lobby, and I can already smell the food.
We sent the limo back, hoping Misha will have his transportation when he gets here, but as we enter the prom, I still don’t see him.
The room is exquisitely decorated in black and green—our school colors—with balloons, candles, and white linen table cloths. I look up to the stage, where the band is playing a cover.
“Do you see him?” I yell into Ten’s ear.
He winces, turning away from his conversation with Manny to answer me. “I haven’t looked for him.”
Okay. Relax. We just got here.
But things have finally calmed down between Misha and me, and we’re having fun. I just don’t want something dumb to screw it up.
I came clean to the guys in the car, figuring there was no harm anymore in telling them Masen’s real name. Misha said he wasn’t coming back to school, and I have real friends again. I feel awkward about lying.
“Do you want something to drink?” Ten asks, indicating his breast pocket.
I wave him off.
“Wanna dance?” J.D. asks at my other side.
I gaze around again, looking for Misha.
“Yeah,” I finally answer. Why not? He told me to have fun.
J.D. leads me out onto the dance floor while Ten and Manny sit down at a table. I glance back at them, seeing Manny look around nervously like the other shoe is about to drop. But then…Ten reaches over and grabs him by the tie, pulling him in closer, so he can straighten it.
I almost laugh. Manny looks taken aback, but a look passes between them, and I’m kind of curious.
Nah. Ten would never date a goth.
J.D. and I join everyone else on the dance floor, moving to the music as others laugh and talk. The energy and atmosphere is incredible. It’s dark and crowded, and it feels like what Misha talked about in one of his letters. About realizing you’re one of many and not feeling so alone.
I almost feel unseen—not on display—and I kind of like it. The song ends, and I fall into J.D., breathing hard and laughing. The fog machine and heat of so many crowded around is weighing on me, and I reach into my wrist purse and pull out my inhaler. I look around, hesitant. I usually go in the bathroom.
Screw it. Taking a puff, I see J.D. do a double take, but he only looks surprised as I take another one and try to inhale.
“You okay?”
I nod, giving him a thumbs up. “I’m fine.”
I slip the inhaler back into my purse and let him come in close. He places his hands on my waist as we slow dance.
“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” someone says.
I turn around and lock eyes with Lyla and Katelyn, who are glaring as everyone dances around us.
Lyla’s arms are folded over her hot pink dress. “It’s almost too precious for words,” she muses.
Katelyn smirks behind her, and I drop my head forward, faking a snore. “Oh, I’m sorry.” I pop my head up, looking at J.D. “I fell asleep. What happened?”
He chuckles.
In all honesty, though, I deserve Lyla’s animosity. I wasn’t a good friend. But with her, I’m not sure anyone can be.
I notice Trey lumbering toward her from behind and watch as he falls on her, draping his arms over her. His eyes are hooded, and he can barely stand.
“Hey, how goes it?” he slurs, gesturing between J.D. and me. “You, too, huh? You skip around pretty fast, girl. I like it.”
Oh, please. I turn away from him but not before I see Lyla trying to shrug him off.
“Come on,” he calls behind me, “friends share, J.D. You take mine for a spin, and I’ll take yours.”
Trey grabs my arm, but J.D. knocks him off. “Stay away from her.”
Trey comes in again, but I steel every muscle inside me. “Enough!”
But just then, a voice rings out, and I stop.
“Thanks for letting us intrude, everyone,” Misha says, and I blink, realizing the music has stopped.
Tearing my eyes away from Trey, I look up on stage and see Misha standing at the microphone. He’s still wearing his suit, but he has a guitar draped in front of him, and we meet each other’s eyes as a small smile dances in his.
I take a step, drawn in.
“We’re Cipher Core, and this is dedicated to the cheerleader,” he says.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I notice his band mates on stage, the same guys with him in the YouTube video I saw.
“Hey, it’s Masen,” J.D. says, mumbling. “I mean, Misha.”
The drums count off, the beat starts, and the guitars lead in, creating a fast and hard but soulful tune. Misha’s voice drifts in slow and haunting but quickly picks up pace.
Anything goes when everyone knows Where do you hide when their highs are your lows?
So much, so hard, so long, so tired, Let them eat until you’re ground into nothing.
Don’t you worry your glossy little lips.
What they savor ‘ventually loses it’s flavor.
I wanna lick, while you still taste like you.
Bookmark it, says the cheerleader I promise we’ll come back to this spot.
I have shit to do first. You won’t wait a lot.
I can’t make her stay, and I can’t watch her go.
I’ll keep her hellfire heart, And bookmark it ‘fore it goes cold.
Fifty-seven times I didn’t call Fifty-seven letters I didn’t send, Fifty-seven stitches to breathe again, and then I fucking pretend.
Fifty-seven days to not need you Fifty-seven times to give up on you Fifty-seven steps away from you, Fifty-seven nights of nothing but you.
His eyes are closed, and his face is so beautiful. Everything inside me is crumbling, because it’s the most perfect song I’ve ever heard, and I want him to keep going.
When did he write that? When we were fighting? Before we met?
A chaperone walks on stage after the song ends and cocks her head disapprovingly at the band. They smile and take off their instruments, quickly getting out of there, because while they may have had permission to perform a song, they probably didn’t have permission to say a few of the words that were in those lyrics.
I laugh as Dane takes a dramatic bow and the crowd cheers. I don’t even know what just happened. Were people dancing? Where’s Trey and Lyla? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
Misha hands off his guitar to one of the guys, and I inch forward through the crowd, waiting for him to come to me. He hops down off the stage as the other band takes over again and starts playing.
He comes up and wraps his arms around me under my ass and lifts me up. I laugh even though tears wet my face.