Cord had always been Avery’s go-to for events like this. Atlas, meanwhile, was here with Sania Malik, a girl he’d known for years. Not the most believable fake date, but it was all Atlas could come up with on short notice.
Avery walked over to where Cord was standing next to Brice, along the edge of the flexiglass bubble. On the other side grew rows of potatoes, their fronds swaying back and forth in the water, lit by cheerful solar subs.
The radzimir skirt of her deep blue gown swished pleasantly as she approached. “Cord, will you dance with me?” she asked without preamble.
“Of course.” He held out a hand and led her onto the dance floor. “Can I hold your bag?” he added, with a nod to her tiny silver micro-clutch, barely large enough for a single paintstick.
Avery nodded as he slipped the bag into a pocket of his tux jacket. She was struck by a sudden memory of Cord’s mom, back before she died, shepherding them both to cotillion when they were in fifth grade. “When you take a girl to a party, Cord, you should always offer to hold her drink or her purse, ask her to dance, make sure she gets home safe, and—”
“I get it, Mom,” Cord had groaned, and Avery had stifled a giggle, exchanging a knowing look with Cord.
Cord didn’t speak as they moved expertly around the dance floor. The space between them felt relaxed, uncomplicated. Avery remembered the way Watt had danced—his steps correct but so painstaking, his brow furrowed in nervous concentration—and felt another pang of regret for the way she’d treated him.
She saw her parents across the dance floor and gave them a little wave. Happy now? Her father nodded, his eyes lifting in evident approval. He’d always liked the idea of her and Cord; after all, her parents had been good friends with the Andertons before they passed away six years ago. Avery was glad now that Atlas had insisted on their both asking dates. It might relieve the pressure cooker they all found themselves in.
The song ended, and Cord took a small step back, grabbing a champagne for her off a passing tray. That was when Avery saw Atlas and Calliope.
They were standing on the far side of the bar, their faces too close together. Atlas was leaning back on his elbows with a relaxed, casual smile—a smile that Avery didn’t see very often, except when he was with her. She realized with a start that he trusted this Calliope girl. And Atlas didn’t easily give his trust.
Calliope was talking animatedly, making little flourishing gestures with her wrists as if to show off the jeweled bracelets she wore on both arms. Her vermilion gown skimmed shockingly low over her cleavage. She’d kicked one foot behind the other, and Avery saw that she was wearing carved bamboo heels, which were way too casual for black tie, but which she seemed to have gotten away with since they were on theme. It was the sort of shoe Avery’s mom would never let her wear, and for some reason that irritated her.
She gazed into her champagne without taking a sip, watching its bubbles dance merrily upward, and attempted to make sense of her own feelings.
It might be foolish and juvenile, but Avery couldn’t help instinctively disliking Calliope, given what she now knew about her travels with Atlas. The truth was, she still resented Atlas for just leaving her like that; taking off on a spree of adventures without saying good-bye, making all those memories that Avery wasn’t a part of. It hurt more than she cared to admit, learning that those memories had included a languid, leggy mystery girl.
She and Atlas had agreed not to talk to each other tonight, but maybe if she went over there and said hi—just for a minute, to reassure herself that nothing was happening between him and Calliope—she would feel better.
Avery took a deep breath and pushed her way through to where they were standing.
“Hey, guys!” Her tone sounded perky and overbright to her ears. She didn’t miss the flicker of lowlying resentment that darted across Calliope’s face at the interruption, or the weary resignation that Atlas turned on her. He was obviously disappointed with her for barging in like this, after all their promises to ignore each other. But what was she supposed to do, when she saw another girl circling him like some kind of jungle animal closing in on her prey?
“Hi, Avery,” Calliope said, after a beat. “You look fantastic. I love that dress.”
Avery didn’t return the compliment. “Who did you come here with tonight, Calliope?” Maybe you should go pay attention to your own date, she thought, though to be fair she hadn’t done the best job of that either.
“It’s funny—he’s actually your date’s older brother! I’m not sure where he is,” Calliope exclaimed, smiling.
“What a funny coincidence,” Avery said, in a tone that made it clear she didn’t find it funny at all. Atlas was looking back and forth between them, clearly at a loss as to what he should say.
“Avery, are you and Cord dating? He’s really cute,” Calliope went on, seemingly unconcerned by the hostility in Avery’s voice.
Avery almost choked on her sip of champagne. “No, we’re not,” she finally managed. “Actually, he’s single, if you’re interested.”
“Aves,” Atlas interrupted, “do you know where Mom and Dad are?”
She knew he was just saying something, anything, in an attempt to halt her attack on Calliope. But his comment sparked something in Avery.
“Actually, that’s why I came over here. Mom and Dad sent me to find you. Sorry, Calliope, do you mind?” she added halfheartedly.
“Of course not.” Calliope shrugged and headed off into the crowd, lifting the sheer tulle skirts of her gown to keep from tripping. Her toenails were painted a deep purple. Avery thought she saw a flashing silver inktat on one ankle, but she couldn’t be sure.
“Aves. What the hell?” Atlas asked, but Avery didn’t answer, just reached for his arm and began dragging him through the crowds. She led him toward one of the small setup stations along the back of the party, where a few tired-looking caterers were depositing plates for bots to stack.
“Can you give us a minute? We have a family emergency,” Avery requested, wielding her smile like a knife. The caterers shrugged and stepped aside. Avery pulled Atlas into the tiny setup station and yanked the door shut.
He took a step back, and even though the room was tiny, it felt like a vast distance suddenly loomed between them. “We weren’t supposed to even talk tonight, and now you brought me here alone? What the hell, Aves?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry,” she said resentfully. “I just couldn’t watch that girl hit on you anymore. God, did you not realize that she was literally throwing herself at you?”
“Of course I realized,” Atlas said, and the matter-of-factness in his tone made her even angrier. “That’s the whole point. I thought we were trying to distract Mom and Dad—bringing dates, not talking? And now you’ve gone and dragged me into a room, in front of all the waitstaff.”