And so very mine.
Producing a long-stem white rose from behind his back, he hands it to me. “For the most beautiful girl at the ball.” My nose brushes against the soft petals, and I breathe in their delicate scent. “White roses represent new beginnings and rebirth,” he explains, offering me his hand. “Will you be my new beginning? And can I be yours?”
Be still my beating heart. This man slays me in all the best ways.
Ash makes a gagging sound, but I ignore her, taking Dillon’s hand and beaming up at him. Our gazes connect, and a zap of electricity shoots up my arm the second our skin touches. My chest heaves as I stare into his beautiful face, and butterflies swoop into my belly, turning somersaults. My heart swells, soaring to dizzy heights the longer we just stand there staring, lost in an intimate moment, despite the noise surrounding us.
A flash pops, and we both turn sideways. “You are sickeningly cute. Mum said I was to take pictures, so get in closer,” Ash says with a happy smile on her face. We pose for several pictures, with our arms wrapped around one another, and I make her send them to me so I can forward them to Audrey and my parents.
Dillon leads me over to a quiet corner, handing me a badly wrapped pink package. “Happy birthday, Viv.” He kisses me sweetly, and my cheeks are flushed when we break apart.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re my girl. I’m pretty sure it goes against the boyfriend code to not buy your girlfriend a present on her birthday.”
His words send an enormous thrill through me. “You already got me a gift. Thank you for breakfast,” I add, having forgotten to tell him previously.
“Open it.” He shuffles nervously on his feet, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black pants.
I tear the pink paper off with zero patience, and he grins. There are two gifts inside. The first is a photo album.
“To make new memories,” Dillon explains, rubbing the back of his neck.
I’m momentarily frozen to the spot. How ironic that Dillon chose a similar gift to Reeve’s. Shaking myself out of my temporary melancholy, I stop overthinking it. It’s not that unusual. Dillon knows I’m documenting my trip through photos. It makes sense he’d give me something like this. “Thank you. I bet I have enough photos to fill half this album already.”
“I look forward to filling the rest.” He smiles, making me swoon again.
My heart is in my throat as I lift the lid on the small black box, and I gasp as I lift the silver necklace from the cushion. “Dillon, it’s beautiful.”
“It’s a Claddagh necklace. The Swarovski crystal represents your birthstone. April is actually diamond, but until Toxic Gods makes it big, I rob a bank, or win the lotto, that’s all I can afford,” he half-jokes.
“It’s perfect. I love it.” I fling my arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.” I dust kisses all over his stunning face, and my heart is fit to burst. “Help me to put it on,” I say, easing out of his embrace. I remove the silver diamond choker around my neck, stowing it carefully in the inside zip pocket of my purse. Dillon looks at it, frowning, and I can guess where his mind has gone to. “It was a birthday present from my parents,” I softly say, and his puckered brow smooths out.
I hold my hair up so he can fasten it around my neck. “All done.” He presses a kiss to my temple as I finger the delicate chain.
“Take a picture of me wearing it. I need to show Audrey.”
Wordlessly, he takes my phone and snaps a pic, and I send it to my bestie.
Grabbing more drinks, we join the rest of Toxic Gods and our friends, spending an enjoyable few hours dancing and listening to music. Dillon is attentive, and he never leaves my side. He even insists on coming with me to the bathroom, keeping me company as we stand in the long line. Back outside, I burst out laughing as he and Jamie search through some large bushes at the side of the field, emerging with twigs and leaves stuck to their suits. “Laugh all you want, but we have tequila,” Jamie says, waggling his brows and raising the full bottle.
“They have tequila at the bar,” I remind them.
“We have to pay through the nose for that,” Jamie says.
“Not all of us are loaded Americans,” Dillon says, and his words slice a layer off my happiness.
He makes the odd cryptic remark about money at times that irritates me. I mean, it’s not like he grew up poor. Ash has explained the challenges that come with running a farm and supporting a large family. I know things haven’t always been easy, but none of them ever went without, so I don’t understand why Dillon has such a chip on his shoulder. It’s unfair I should be punished for growing up in affluence. It’s not like either one of us has gotten to choose our families.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, pulling me into his arms. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I guess we just have different outlooks on money.”
“If it bugs you that much, maybe you should pursue the band’s interests more thoroughly.”
“It’s not about being rich per se.” He sways to the music with me in his arms. “And we get by. We’re lucky we have a regular slot in Whelans, and we’re starting to earn decent money from streaming our EP.”
“Then what is it?”
He shrugs. “My own hang-ups, I suppose.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I know it’s not fair to take it out on you. You didn’t choose your upbringing, and you’re not flashy with your money or mean either.”
“I know I’m fortunate, and this is cliché, but money doesn’t guarantee happiness. Look at my ex. He had every material possession, yet he would’ve given it all up to have his mom back, his dad present, and a loving family environment.”
Dillon snorts, and a sneer pulls up the corners of his mouth. “Please don’t use him to make a point. That dickhead had everything handed to him, you included, and he doesn’t fucking appreciate it.”
“Woah.” I run my hands up his chest. “Where is all this coming from?”
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and air whooshes out of his mouth before he tightens his arms around me, burying his head in my shoulder. “Sorry, I’m just pissed on your behalf. He hurt you, and that’s not okay with me.”
I relax against him, running my fingers lightly through his hair. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up.”
He lifts his head. “It’s okay. I know he was a big part of your life. I know you don’t intentionally do it. I understand he’s tied to a lot of your memories.”
Dillon’s mood swings give me a headache sometimes. He seems to veer from one emotion to the next and back again all within the same minute. I don’t call him on it, though. I don’t want anything to ruin this incredible night. “Thank you for understanding.” Stretching up on my heels, I kiss him. “But let’s not talk about him anymore.”
We drink shots of tequila and dirty dance in the crowd, kissing and groping one another, while drunken revelers party hard around us. By the end of the night, bodies litter the ground and groups of disheveled students sit on the grass outside tents, smoking, drinking, and laughing.
The night is still young though, by Trinity Ball standards, and many attendees start wandering off to parties while others stay put, content to wait a few hours for the pubs to open. According to Ronan’s girlfriend, some students party hard from the day before the ball to the day after, and it’s not unusual to spot students in ballgowns and tuxes in pubs across the city.
“What do you want to do?” Dillon asks, breathing tequila fumes across my face.
“Ride your cock like a porn star all night long,” I reply without hesitation.
“And the prude has left the house!” Jamie pipes up, looking highly amused. I flip him the bird, and he cranks out a laugh.