"You're glowing," she observes during a rare lull.
"I'm sweating. It's hot in here."
"No, you're glowing. You're in love. It's disgusting and adorable." She grins. "Tonight's the big night, right? The final date?"
Did I just hear right? Did she say I’m in love? Am I in love? I can feel myself starting to panic, am I in love with Sebastian? One thing I do know is, I’m not going to think about it right now, because the night is already going to be stressful enough this is something I can not worry about.
Loving Sebastian Thornhill is something I never thought I would say.
"The gala, yeah."
"And then?" She asks.
"And then we figure out if this is real or if I've been delusional for two weeks."
"My money's on real. I've never seen Sebastian Thornhill look at anyone the way he looks at you." She wipes down the counter. "Just promise me something?"
"What?"
"If it goes wrong tonight, if he turns back into the asshole he was, you'll let us help. You won't try to handle it alone."
The request catches me off guard. "Why would it go wrong?"
"I don't think it will. But guys like Sebastian... they're complicated. They have pressures we don't understand. And sometimes, under pressure, people revert." She squeezes my arm. "I'm not trying to be negative. I'm just saying we're here. Whatever happens."
"Nothing's going to happen. Tonight's going to be perfect."
I say it with more confidence than I feel.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of anticipation. Classes feel endless. My afternoon library shift drags. By the time I'm back in my dorm room getting ready, I'm a mess of nerves and excitement.
The gala starts at eight. Sebastian is picking me up at seven-thirty.
I shower, do my makeup more carefully than I ever have, style my hair in loose waves. The red dress from yesterday hangs on my closet door, Sebastian had it dry-cleaned overnight and returned it this morning with a note:For tonight. You're going to be the most beautiful person there. S
I slip into the dress, the heels, check my reflection.
I look... different. Not like Isla Monroe, scholarship student who works two jobs and wears thrift store clothes. Like someone who belongs at a Valentine's gala with Sebastian Thornhill.
The thought is both thrilling and terrifying.
Ivy knocks on my door at seven. She's dressed for some other Valentine's event, but she wanted to see me before I left.
"Holy shit," she says when I open the door. "Isla, you look incredible."
"You think?"
"I know." She comes in and closes the door. "Okay, last-minute pep talk. You've got this. You're brilliant and strong and if Sebastian Thornhill screws this up, it's his loss, not yours."
"You're being very supportive for someone who's been warning me about him for two weeks."
"I can be supportive and cautious at the same time." She hugs me carefully, avoiding my makeup. "Text me when you get thereand when you leave. And if anything goes wrong, anything you call me immediately."
"Nothing's going to go wrong." I pray nothing goes wrong.
"It won’t. But just in case."
At seven-thirty exactly, my phone buzzes.
