“You came,” I say and offer a smile.
He doesn’t return it. “I said I would.”
I clench my jaw to keep from saying I liked him better when he was inebriated. At least then he was nice to me. I certainly hope my plan for tonight doesn’t blow up in my face. This morning it seemed reasonable to assume Dorian was attracted to me, at least a little. That somewhere beneath the liquor last night, when he spun me in the streets and smiled at me like I was the only girl in the world, was truth.
But now that his icy demeanor is back in full force…I’m starting to think last night truly was my last chance to get him to kiss me. Not even my sparkly dress will turn his eye tonight, I just know it. Panic swims through me, and I’m tempted to call the whole night off and run back to the church. But the sentiment is fleeting, washed away by the deep knowing that I must go through with this. I must give it my best effort.
Otherwise, I die.
“Shall we?” I ask.
He nods and we head to the back of the queue. Everyone in line seems to be engaged in animated chatter regarding the match, but Dorian and I stand silently side by side. Every inch that separates us feels like it’s weighted in iron. I note his every move from the corner of my eye, the way his hands are tucked in his pockets, the strange contrast in his posture—a carefree slouch with stiff arms that betray his discomfort. Even his silence feels heavy. Meanwhile, I can’t stop my heart from pounding. I try to keep my expression neutral, but I can’t cease nibbling the inside of my tingling lips, and my cheeks are burning for no reason at all.
We move ahead a few places in line. I clear my throat and try for small talk. “Did…did you go to Club Scorpius tonight?”
He sighs, refusing to look at me. When he speaks, his words come out flat. “No. I’m not drinking tonight.”
There goes all hope I’ll be able to coerce him into a giddy, carefree mood. Podaxis was right. I messed up in not taking my opportunity when I had it. There’s no way he’ll kiss me. I clench my jaw and glance over at him, judging the distance between us. What are the chances I could spring myself upon him right now and plant my kiss before he tries to stop me? With his hands in his pockets—
“What?” he says, finally turning his gaze to me. His chest rises as our eyes meet, as if he caught his breath, and his posture goes even more rigid than it already was. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
I face forward. “I’m not looking at you.”
“But you were.”
“Is that a crime?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “The way you look at me sometimes makes me feel like it is.”
I don’t know what to say to that so I remain quiet. But now he’s the one looking at me and I’m beginning to grow tense under his scrutiny.
With another sigh, he looks away. “I like your hair,” he mumbles.
I’m so surprised, I can’t help but glance at him again. “You do?”
“You seem shocked by that.”
That’s because I am. While I tried curling my hair with the pins Nadia packed for me, it didn’t turn out looking anything like Nadia’s smooth waves. Apparently, it takes more than a couple of hours for them to set. In the end, I simply shook out my pink strands and tucked one side up with my shell comb like I’ve grown used to doing. “I thought it looked messy.”
“It does,” he says, but then his lips curl up at the corners, giving me a glimpse of the other version of him. He meets my eyes. “I like it messy. And the color. The pink is…really nice.”
My cheeks warm and my smile mirrors his. I want to say something, perhaps about how I like his hair too, but I purse my lips instead. Now that I’ve gotten him smiling, I should do my best not to ruin it.
“Pardon,” says a man behind us, tone indignant.
I blink a few times, realizing Dorian and I are still staring at each other…and have completely missed that the line has moved forward a few places.
“Apologies,” Dorian calls over his shoulder, and we move forward in the queue.
The next time I spy him from the corner of my eye, he seems more relaxed, his expression softer, the ghost of a grin still tugging his lips. It’s enough to set me at ease too. Allows me a moment to pretend.
Pretend I’m not on a mission but a real date.
Pretend the boy next to me likes me more than anyone else in the world.
Pretend I don’t have to kill him.
* * *
