THE LINE RINGS in my ear, Liv not picking up now or the last ten times I’ve called since getting the packages this afternoon.
She’s blocked me. I could start another social media profile—one she hasn’t blocked—on TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter, but I don’t have time right now, and that would be a new level of low and pathetic.
I just want her to want to talk to me. I don’t want to stalk her.
I’m going over there. I’m done. I need her, and she loves me. I know she does.
Standing up straight, I hold out the phone, snapping a selfie as I tip my hat with my other hand. I post it, tapping out the caption, “This could be it. I won’t let you go.”
She may have blocked me, but I haven’t blocked her. She’ll see it.
I post it just as a figure heads toward me out of the corner of my eye, and I look up, seeing my dad. He approaches in a black tux, his dark hair combed, and his crisp, white shirt making his skin look tan. He smiles gently, carrying a clear case in his hand as his eyes fall down my matching tux. His eyebrows rise to his hairline.
“I know, I know,” I mumble, hearing the hall fill up beyond the stairwell where I hide. “Mimi will freak when she sees me.”
He leans into the wall next to me, and I know he wants to talk, but I have no ambition. We haven’t really spoken since my phone call the other night, and even though I feel a little guilty, I don’t know why.
Maybe because we’re all in pain, and I expect my parents to be stronger than me. They aren’t, and I’m still debating on how mad I should be about that.
I’m still not apologizing, though. I’ll save that for Liv. She’s the only thing that’s important right now.
“Actually, I was thinking you don’t look the same,” he finally says. His eyes drop to the boutonniere in the box, his mind far away and his jaw tense. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry that we just couldn’t seem to pull it together. There’s almost nothing worse than having your children see you completely fuck up.”
My dad was around for a while, but the house felt less and less like a home, and my mother only wanted her grief. I understand how it hurt my dad. How he felt alone.
He just forgot I was there, too.
“We’re supposed to show you how it’s done,” he whispers, and I can hear the tears choking his voice. “We broke, and I didn’t know how to fix it.” He turns his head toward me. “I didn’t want to escape your mother. I wanted to love her.”
“Do you still?”
He doesn’t falter. “Still.”
There’s hope, then. I’m not the only one making mistakes, and no matter what, I still love my parents. Even now.
Maybe Liv still loves me.
Mrs. Wentworth saunters through the door, girls in their white gowns filling the hallway behind her, pulling on gloves, and squealing as they rush from one room to another, getting ready.
The director slows in her steps, looking me up and down. I stay there, not standing up straight.
“Your escort isn’t here,” she informs me, looking to my father, as well.
My father is supposed to walk me into the room, but at the end of the stage, Callum is supposed to take over. The symbolism of a father passing the jewel of his house onto the next man in her life like you pass a well-baked pie…
“I don’t have one,” I tell her.
What are they going to do? Tell me I can’t walk.
I actually appreciate the update from her. Callum hadn’t texted back, so I wasn’t sure if he got the message or perhaps decided to ignore it, as I expected him to do.
But he’s not here. Thank goodness .
“Oh, well, we have spares.” She looks at her clipboard, pulling at the gold and pearl earring on her lobe. “Just a date, not a mate,” she assures. “I’ll send him up.”
“No, thank you.”
Her gaze flashes to mine, alarmed. There was a time when I wanted to paint that perfect picture, and perfect girls are escorted by proud young men, but that desire is now gone. Alone, no white dress…I won’t look like anyone else, and while I’m not yet happy, I’m no longer trying to be something I never was.
Wentworth presses her lips together.
“She said no,” my dad reiterates before the woman has a chance to argue.
Her spine straightens like she has a pole up her ass, and nods, spinning on her heel and leaving. I almost smile. That’ll give the Garden Club something to talk about this week.
My dad pushes off the wall and turns me to face him. He takes my tie, and I look up at him under the brim of my top hat as he fixes the knot.
“Now the full Windsor is appropriate for formal settings,” he tells me, “but I like the Prince Albert myself. It looks good with more slender necks.”
He hasn’t asked about my outfit. I wonder if Mom told him everything.
I guess from the sound of it, they knew long before I did anyway.
He finishes, and I walk to the window, the light inside the stairwell making my reflection easily visible against the black night outside. “You’re right.”
I smooth down the slim tie and pop my collar, looking like a British gentleman from 1912. Fabulous.
But then Liv’s words come back to haunt me as I study the tie. I need a good handle on you. I blush, hoping she likes it. She can drag me around by it for as long as she likes, I don’t care.
Dad kisses my cheek and leaves, going to where the fathers stand, and my heart rate kicks up a notch, because I’m actually kind of wishing I wasn’t alone, after all. Everyone will be staring, and everyone else will be walking with their boyfriends or escorts, and I’ll just be standing there, nothing to distract me from all the eyes.
I could just walk out now. Leave and let my parents deal with the embarrassment they kind of deserve, but I want to do this. I always did. It’s tradition, and it’s me coming out to the community as a member of society who will be working and contributing, and I want them to see that people of value won’t always look like them.
Walking back into the hall, I head past eyes and whispers, and see Krisjen, but she’s not dressed. She veers down another hallway, and I debate following her, but it’s almost time.
Where did she take Liv’s dress when she left my house?
I stand backstage, hearing Mrs. Wentworth test the microphone, and seeing my grandmother sitting down at a table near the stage. Have my parents warned her about my attire? Probably not. I have a sneaky feeling my mom wants to ‘surprise’ her.
I close my eyes, the orchestra tuning. I still hold my phone in my hand.
What is she doing right now?
My stomach growls, and I lick my red lips, wishing I had water, but I don’t care to look for some.
A figure appears at my side, a flash of white, and I look over, my mouth falling open and my stomach dropping as I do a doubletake.
Liv stands there, her hair in shiny, silky waves down her bare back, her body adorned in the gorgeous gown she’d sent me earlier today. Her breasts bulge out of the top, and I can’t inhale a full breath.
“What are you doing?” I burst out.
She turns to look at me, and my eyes drop to her dark pink lips. I can’t stop myself. I take her in my arms, breathing her in and staring at her mouth.
“You look…” I can barely find the words. “So beautiful.”
“I hope so,” she says, that easy bantering tone back in her voice like nothing has happened. “I’m not particularly comfortable. Did you know the average woman owns twenty pairs of shoes and only wears five regularly? Wanna bet all five are sneakers?”
And before I can even laugh at her little joke, I feel my body move without my consent. I grab her face and sink my mouth into hers, exhilaration shooting up my spine when her hands take my waist and hold me back.
“Lips, lips!” I hear Krisjen shout, panicked. “Oh no. Guys, oh my God. Aracely! I need lipsticks!”
And she’s gone, and I know people are looking at us, but it’s honestly in the top three things I couldn’t care less about right now. Tilting my head and sliding a hand around her waist, I deepen the kiss, feeling her body flush with mine, every inch of me so alive I’m ready to cry.
Is she really here? How…? What…?
“You said you loved me,” she whispers.
I smile, kissing her mouth again and again, over and over. “I was wondering…” More kisses. “If you’d noticed that.”
“I didn’t say it back.”
I stop, now reminded myself. I search her eyes, hoping she says it but almost wishing she doesn’t speak at all. I just want a few more minutes with her if she’s about to walk away.
“I didn’t want you to know that you could break my heart.” Her brown eyes, behind beautiful smoky eye makeup, glisten. “I didn’t want Clay Collins to ever know that…”
She pauses, the eyes and whispers around us, my family in the audience, and Wentworth’s booming voice on stage not nearly as loud as my heart.
“That she has always broken my heart,” she tells me. “I love you.”
My chest swells.
“I’ve only ever loved you.” Her breath warms me from head to toe, and I’ve never felt happier. “My heart is yours,” she says. “Shred it, burn it, I don’t care. I want every minute I can get.”
Yes.
I laugh, smile, and dive in, lost in her mouth for I don’t know how long until we’ve lost control, and I’ve fallen into the wall, her body pressed to mine.
“Lipsticks!” Krisjen chides, coming over.
I pull away, cleaning her mouth as she cleans mine, and I’m dizzy. She takes the lipstick from Krisjen and tries to reapply mine, but I can’t stand it. I take her face in my hands, needing another dose.
“I’m never letting you go,” I whisper in her ear.
But she meets my eyes, something wicked in hers. “I kind of hope you try.”
What?
“You spent years torturing me,” she points out, pushing me into the wall and jerking her body into mine. “I might like returning the favor if you ever try to keep this from me again.”
I groan as she grips my body and her warmth seeps through my clothes.
Please, God, take me to a car now. Jesus .
She hands everything back to Krisjen and looks at me. “So, you ready for this?”
To be with her wherever and whenever I want? “Hell yes.”
She nods. “Then let’s make a scene.”
My father steps up behind us and Krisjen takes Liv’s hand, pulling her away to get in position, and I watch her go, the dress on her unlike anything here tonight. She’s the most beautiful.
“Ready?” My dad takes my hand, hooking it over his arm.
“For anything.”
The music starts playing, the line forms behind the stage, and I’m tempted to push myself and my father back a few spaces, so we’re not front and center and dominating attention like my outfit no doubt will, but what’s worth doing once is worth doing big. I’m not hiding another second.
“Please welcome the Daughters of St. Carmen in the Ninety-Ninth Annual Debutante Ball!” Mrs. Wentworth announces on the stage.
Three-two-one…
We walk, stepping out from behind the curtain together and keeping in time, slow and steady, as I come into view and the applause suddenly falters. My skin warms as everyone watches us, my dad and I both in suits, me in a top hat, and then the clapping turns to whispers, because I’m the only one in nearly a hundred years who’s broken protocol. I snort, nearly failing at holding in my laughter, and I look up to Dad, seeing him look down at me with a wink. What are they going to do? This isn’t even the fun part.
We descend the stage and stop in the middle of the dance floor, bowing to the crowd. A full curtsy is customary next, and I oblige, dropping to the floor and lowering my head.
The orchestra plays, and I rise, hoping Krisjen took care of the next part.
Finally, I hear it. “Uh…” Mrs. Wentworth clears her throat, composing herself. “Miss…um, Miss Clay Collins, escorted by…” I hear a heavy exhale. “Escorted by Olivia Jaeger.”
A few claps, but I don’t expect more and don’t wait for it as I watch Liv walk around the dance floor and stop at my side, slipping her fingers between mine.
I gaze at her, the way the string of little flowers drape off her shoulders and down her arm. The way the dress hugs her body and only complements, doesn’t hide. How she looks fantastic in a little pink, and I know, in this moment, that I have no intention of looking into any other pair of eyes for the rest of my life.
I ignore the heat of my grandmother’s anger I can feel somewhere in the room. The camera phone here or there that’s probably documenting this. And anyone who might be whispering or laughing, because my mom’s right.
There are people who will never be lucky enough to feel this.
• • •
I probably pull her too roughly, but I’m just too full of energy. We burst through the front doors, out onto the front walkway just before the circular drive, and I swing her into my arms.
“Well, that was fun,” she teases.
I paw the back of her dress, pulling the tie to the corset as I breathe in the balmy air and bite her lips.
“These dresses suck,” I growl in a low voice over her mouth.
“I agree,” she groans. “I feel like meringue.”
I laugh and grab her hand, both of us running to the parking lot and toward our limo. An hour was long enough, right? We stood our ground, danced, held hands, and now it’s time to get out of Dodge before I have to subject her to my grandmother. That will happen eventually.
Tonight, she’s mine. I back her into the car and press myself between her legs as I yank up her skirt and try to find her skin in all the fabric.
“School’s going to be fun on Monday,” I whisper.
“You scared?”
“No.”
At this moment, not at all. And I don’t think I will be when the time comes either. I mean, I’m pretty sure most of Marymount knows by now. Someone in there tweeted and snapped a picture.
Which reminds me…
I pull out my phone as Liv sucks on my neck, sending shivers across my body. I switch off my phone and tuck it back inside my breast pocket.
I grab her and we both can’t get close enough to each other.
“Get it!” someone calls out, followed by a whistle.
I scowl, looking over my shoulder. Krisjen stands with Aracely by the back door of the banquet hall, both of them smoking.
I roll my eyes and open the door, shoving Liv inside the limo. “Get in.”
Jumping in after her, the driver snaps to, his snoring cut off as he wakes up.
“Take me home,” I tell him, pressing the button to close the partition between us and pulling off my hat.
I see him nod before I lose sight of him. A moment later, the engine starts.
“Undo me,” Liv pants, giving me her back as she turns her head and kisses me.
“God, I love you so much,” I tell her, yanking the thread of the corset, loosening her gown, but unable to keep my mouth off her neck, shoulders, and lips.
Reaching back, she wraps her hand around the back of my neck. “Let’s go to my house, instead,” she says, kissing me. “I want you loud tonight.”
Fine, okay. God, I don’t care where we go. I just need her.
“You let that girl wear your jacket,” I grit out, finally pulling her bodice down.
She scoots the dress off and shoves it to the floor. “Oh, calm down. You can’t kill her.”
I wrap one arm around her stomach, her tight corset keeping me from her skin. I stick my other hand down her panties. “Can I stick my tongue down your throat in front of her?”
She breathes out a laugh between kisses. “I like you jealous.”
Reaching up, I press the intercom. “Take us to 2743 Devon Road, instead.”
“Yes, Miss Collins,” the driver replies.
“Yes, Miss Collins,” Liv mimics.
I release the button, take her in my arms, and eat up her mouth so fast I don’t know if I can wait.
“God, drive faster,” I beg the driver, too softly for him to hear.
I kiss her forehead and every inch of her face, learning her body like it’s my home. Every curve. Every bone. Every patch of skin.
This is my girl. And I know I was made for her.
A screech hits my ears moments before the limo halts, and I grab onto Liv with one hand and the back of the seat with the other, keeping us steady.
What the hell?
The limo stops, and I don’t have time to remove the partition to talk to the driver before the glass on the door shatters, and an arm reaches inside the car and unlocks it.
I gasp, every muscle hard as I pull Liv back. But I’m not fast enough.
The door whips open, and Callum is there in jeans and a hoodie, dark figures looming behind him.
He sticks his head inside, his eyes gleaming with delight when he sees her nearly naked body in my arms.
“Well, what do we have here?” He sneers.
“What the hell do you want?” Liv growls, shooting out her leg to kick him back, but he grabs her foot instead.
Milo bends down, peering inside the car. “Goddamn.”
“Hey, what’s going on?” someone shouts, and I realize it’s the driver.
“Help!” I shout.
But Callum yanks Liv, and she screams. “No!”
I lunge, slamming my fists and trying to hit anything I can—his head, his arms, anything to loosen his hold.
But he has her. He sweeps her out of the car and away from me.
“No!” I cry.
“Ahhh!” Liv yells.
“Time to pay your dues, bitch!” Callum spits out and throws her over his shoulder.
I go after her, but the door slams in my face. I pull the handle, slamming my body against the door, but I can see Milo leaning into it through the broken window.
“Livvy!” I scream.
“No!” I hear her muffled cry.
Finally, the door gives away, and I bolt through it, falling onto the road. I climb to my feet and spin around, seeing Callum’s car and Milo running to the passenger side.
I run as they climb into the car, but Callum hits the gas, speeding in reverse and whipping the car around in a one-eighty, speeding off down Main Street.
“Liv!” Two other cars follow, the rest of their crew, but I don’t know who it is. I didn’t catch any other faces.
“I’m calling the police!” the driver exclaims.
But I shake my head. The police won’t know where to find them, and even if they did, they’ll show up before Liv’s brothers can fuck Callum and Milo up. I don’t want them in our way.
I pull out my phone and Google Jaeger’s Lawn Service . A moment later, one of them picks up.
“Trace…” I cry.
