Probably I shouldn’t.
Besides, I’m still way more dressed than many of the other girls I see going in, who have basically put on a mask and a nightie. Maybe I should have done that. Maybe—
“Su-Lin?”
I freeze. It’s Brendan. I turn and see him there, in that suit—the same one from the wedding (and his wedding) and the prom. Looking so unbelievably handsome and breath-taking.
His blue eyes are wide and his mouth parted. My cheeks flush. He’s clearly checking me out. Is it too much to hope that maybe he’s having a little trouble breathing, too?
I smile at him. “Hey,” is all I manage to say.
He blinks, several times. “Hey,” he says back. Sounding a little hoarse.
My heartbeat speeds up, which I didn’t think was a possibility given how fast it was already going.
“You look . . .” He trails off, and the idea of how he might finish that thought kills me.
What? I lookwhat? Beautiful? Sexy? Like the kind of girl he could feel intense passion for?The kind of girl he could fall in love with?
“You look like the night sky through a skylight,” he says softly.
I melt completely. He’s thinking of the beach house too, and the stars, and maybe, maybe he wants that as much as I do.
“Really?” I say, wishing that I could hold the way he’s looking at me right now like it was a physical thing.
“Really,” he says.
There’s a moment where we’re just staring at each other, until I can’t take it anymore. I have to look away or I’m going to jump him right here on our not-date, in the middle of a crowd of people making their way past us to get into the dance.
“Well, I learned one lesson from Mei-Ling’s wedding,” I say, and hike up the skirt of the dress just enough to show that underneath this elegant gown, I’m still wearing my sneakers. “No heels ever again. Chucks forever.”
He laughs, this kind of startlingly light sound after the heavy feeling of moments ago. “They’re perfect,” he says. And we stand there for another long beat, just smiling at each other.
I don’t want this to end, and I really don’t want to date anyone else, and I really really don’t want to pick out girls for him to date. But we can’t stand out here forever, so I gesture to the dance. “Come on,” I say, and he follows me in.
The masquerade is in most ways the same as the prom. Same packed, loud exhibition hall with the same thumping music and strobe lights and bars serving those bright, non-alcoholic drinks. No bubbles this time, sadly, and the theme seems to be veering toward a Mardi Gras atmosphere, with cheap plastic bead necklaces around every neck—there are people handing them out at the doors, though I imagine that unlike actual Mardi Gras, flashing for beads is neither required nor encouraged.The big screens around the hall are showing clips from various YouTube shows, and on the stage behind the DJ, there is a group of acrobats dangling and swinging from long silks.
I usually love a good party, but I don’t want to be here at all.The beat of the music makes my heart feel out of sync, the twisting, jumping press of people makes my nerves feel frayed at the ends.
I want to be back in our hotel room. Even if we can’t date or do anything more than just hold each other like we did earlier today. Brendan is looking around the room with about the same level of enthusiasm I feel, his hands jammed in his pockets. But he’s always uncomfortable in a situation like this.That’s normal.
What’smyproblem?
We stand there awkwardly for several minutes, both of us declining beads offered by a passing convention employee. Not talking to each other, sort of vaguely moving to the beat like we care about the music. He’s probably waiting for me to pick out a girl for him to dance with—that’s what we’re here for, after all. I reluctantly start scanning the room—there’s lots of cute girls here, and notallof them are dressed like they just stepped out of the changing room at Victoria’s Secret, so I’m sure I can find one that—
“Hey, guys!”
It’s Jane Shaw, standing right next to us, smiling her big, gorgeous smile. In the world’s sexiest Queen of Hearts cosplay, complete with short skirt made of playing cards over red fishnet stockings, and a tight corset adorned with red lace and vintage Valentine hearts. Her long legs look even longer in tall leather boots in the same cherry red as her full lips.
I want to sink into the floor. Any sexiness I might have felt inThe Dress seems ridiculous now, like a game I tried to play to which I never knew the rules. She might be the one in costume, but I’m the one playing dress-up.
“Hey, Jane,” Brendan says, and I realize I should probably respond too, so I give a pathetic little smile and wave.
“Wow, Su-Lin,” Jane says, looking me over. “That dress is gorgeous. You look incredible.” She sounds like she means it, too, which she probably does. She’s always seemed legitimately nice, not one of those fake-sincere girls, dishing out compliments and then being bitchy behind your back.
“Thanks,” I manage. “You too.” And I certainly mean that, though I wish I could do so with the same level of generosity she did.
Jane grins. “Thanks! And congratulations on your launch. I had a signing then, but I heard it was amazing. I wish I could have been there.”
