He looks really against the idea, and at first I think he is going to say no, but instead he lowers his hand and sits there with a straight face. I take this as my cue to continue, and I press the thick pencil onto his right lid.
“Is Terrell coming?” I ask as I draw a line.
“No, why?” he says quietly.
I shrug. “Thought you’d bring him as your date or something… Guess I was wrong.”
“Why would I bring him as my date?”
I give him a look, with an eyebrow raised. People think they are less obvious than they are. I see the way they look at each other.
“Aren’t you guys dating… or at the very least hooking up?”
He’s silent for a bit and I feel like I’ve crossed some line. Oh well.
“We’re not dating,” he says.
So they are just hooking up then.
“On to the next lid…” I tilt his head to the side slightly. His jaw is so tense, you’d think I was hurting him or something.
“I like Terrell. Wish you’d have brought him… He’s much better company,” I say.
Devon says nothing, so I just finish applying the eyeliner in silence.
“There,” I say once I’m done, stepping back to admire my handiwork. I smile. He actually looks really good. Much better than before. I hand him a mirror and he looks at himself silently.
I can’t really tell what Devon is thinking.
“Do you like it?” I ask.
He shrugs.
Which I take to mean yes.
“Before I forget, I got us masks. I figured it would be weird being the only ones without them,” I say, reaching into one of my drawers and handing him a black mask. The Snowflake Ball has always been a masquerade. Another Niveus tradition.
I sit next to him now, checking the time on my phone. It’s just turned four. The ball starts at six.
The journalist at Central News 1 told us to message her when we are about to leave so that they have time to arrive and set up their equipment. Devon and I will be going through the back entrance, the same one we used to get into Morgan Library on Sunday; no CCTV for anyone checking. We’ll leave the entrance open for the journalist and her crew to come through.
Then we get up onstage and they hit record.
“I’m actually really excited for tonight,” I tell Devon. “I can’t wait to wake up tomorrow and not have to look over my shoulder, or feel like I’m losing my mind… I can’t wait to go back to focusing on Yale and med school. I know you don’t think this is going to work out, but I do. I really do.”
Devon is silently looking down at his shoes, and then after a few moments, he glances back up again.
“I didn’t believe you at first, or the journalist woman… so I tweeted about Niveus and what they’ve done—”
“You what?”
“I tweet—”
“I heard you. If anyone at Niveus sees that tweet, they might make things even worse for us. What were you thinking? Delete it!” I say, panic rising a little.
He looks at me guiltily.
“What?” I say, because there’s obviously something he’s not telling me.
