“That’s the point of a tux, jackass,” Reece fires back.
The limo pulls away from the curb, and the conversation flows smoothly. Aubrey shares a story about a disaster that happened at Noah’s house, complete with dramatic hand gestures and sound effects.
Reece and Sam are quiet. Sam’s hand rests on Reece’s knee, and he keeps leaning down to whisper things in her ear that make her smile and blush.
Jace stays mostly quiet. His thumb continues to brush against my shoulder in slow, absentminded strokes, and every now and then he leans down and whispers in my ear things that make me laugh or shiver or both.
“You doing okay?” he asks at one point, his voice quiet.
“Yeah,” I say, leaning into him. “This is perfect.”
“Good,” he says, and he presses a kiss to my temple. “Because if you’re not having fun, we can bail. Fuck prom. We’ll go get burgers or some shit.”
I laugh. “We’re not bailing on prom, Jace.”
“Just saying,” he says. “The option’s there.”
I shift my gaze towards him. He’s watching me with that intensity that still makes my stomach flip.
“I’m having fun,” I tell him. “I promise.”
“Yeah?” he says, and there’s something vulnerable in his voice—something that tells me he needed to hear that.
We go through the motions when we first arrive. Photos in front of the backdrop, names checked off a list, punch in plastic cups that tastes too sweet. It’s all background noise, really. The kind of stuff that happens at prom because it’s supposed to, not because it matters.
What matters is Jace’s hand in mine. The way he keeps pulling me closer every chance he gets. And how his eyes haven’t left me all night, except to glare at anyone who stares too long.
We’re at a table near the edge of the dance floor. Aubrey is sitting on Noah’s lap. Sam and Reece are lost in their own world, his fingers playing with the ends of her red hair.
The music is loud, with bass thumping through the floor, and the dance floor is packed with bodies moving under the colored lights.
I’m standing next to Jace, his arm around my waist, when I notice Nicole standing near the far wall alone. Her arms are crossed over her chest, and she’s watching the crowd with an expression that appears indifferent but just seems empty. Her dress is stunning, red, sleek, and expensive—the kind of thing that would’ve had everyone talking six months ago. But now, people just walk past her without a second glance. There’s no date, no friends around her. She is… alone.
I scan the room, searching for Tia and spot her on the other side of the dance floor. She’s also alone, leaning against the wall with her phone in her hand. Her white dress catches the light, shimmering with every slight movement, but it doesn’t matter. No one is looking at her either.
Something uncomfortable settles in my chest. Not quite pity but close to it. These girls ruled this school. They made people’s lives miserable, mine included. But now, seeing them standing alone while everyone else is laughing, dancing, and living, I can’t help but feel a little sad for them.
Jace turns me to face him, his hands on my hips, his eyes locked on mine. “Dance with me,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, and he pulls me onto the dance floor.
The music is loud and fast, a pop song everyone seems to know except us. Jace doesn’t mind. He just moves, his hands on my hips, pulling me close in a way that’s probably too bold fora school dance, but no one stops us. His mouth is near my ear, whispering things that make me blush, laugh, and forget we’re surrounded by people.
His fingers grip my waist, holding me close enough that every inch of his body is against mine. When he moves, I move with him—our bodies syncing to a rhythm that has nothing to do with the music and everything to do with us.
“You know everyone’s watching us, right?” I say at one point, breathless.
“Let them watch,” he says, his lips brushing against my neck. “Let them see exactly who you belong to.”
The possessiveness in his voice causes me to shiver, and I tilt my head back to gaze at him. His eyes are dark, intense, burning with something that makes my stomach flip and my pulse race.
I kiss him right here on the dance floor, with half the school watching. I do it because I can’t help myself when he looks at me that way. When Jace Cooper looks at me with that heat in his eyes, nothing else matters—not the people around us, the music, or that we’re supposed to be acting proper especially at a school event.
When I pull away, he’s grinning. That cocky, devastating grin that makes my knees weak and my heart stutter in my chest.
“Careful, Bells,” he says. “Keep kissing me like that, and I’m going to drag you out of here and find somewhere private.”
“Maybe that’s what I want,” I say.
