Page 20 of Bad Moon Rising
8
LILY
“Oh, Lily, that color is perfect on you.” Mom beams as she tugs at the neckline of the blood-orange dress, making it sit right across my collarbone. “It matches your hair perfectly. You’re going to wow them at prom. Do you think you can convince your date to wear a matching tie?”
My date. The words blaze through my body, producing a mixture of excitement and dread and crushing sadness.
I have a prom date.
I, Lily Dean, have a prom date.
Sure, he’s not my first choice, but Chase is so nice and fun, and we have the whole nerd thing in common. Besides, it’s not as if I can take both twins to the dance, even if they wanted to go, and Jackson has made it pretty clear that they’d rather have their toenails pulled out with rusty pliers than step foot inside the gym on prom night with me.
Fine. I can pick up what they’re putting down. They’d rather hang out at home than go to a dance with me. Jackson didn’t even invite me to watch movies with them, and we always hang out and watch movies together. That’s what we did when Brooks went to his senior prom. He took Serena Wainright. I’ll never forget her short black dress riding up as she got into the Mustang. I hated seeing them drive off together so much that when Jackson offered me whisky he stole from Brooks’s room, I drank far too much of it and threw up all my candy. I was scrubbing bits of gummy bears off the toilet bowl for days.
I thought maybe I had something with the twins, something more than just friendship, but I was wrong. All those moments of fizzing tension, all those times when Jackson or Orion looked at me like they were holding something back…I imagined it all.
The twins don’t even care that I’m going to the prom with someone else. Chase asked me two weeks ago, and they haven’t teased me about it. Not once. In fact, I’ve barely seen them. Jackson hasn’t been around to carry my books to class or wheedle my middle name out of me. They’re always busy during lunch. Orion runs off as soon as the final bell rings, so I walk home by myself or study in the library with Chase. I know it’s senior year and they’re busy, but they haven’t even invited me over for our usual hang outs, and I see Brooks’s Mustang coming and going at crazy times of the night.
It’s fine, I tell myself as I suck in my stomach. They don’t owe me anything. We’re just friends. And that’s all we’ll ever be. I have to try to move on.
And moving on starts with finding the perfect dress for prom.
As soon as I told Mom I was going to prom with Chase, she dragged me out of the house and into Sardinia for dress shopping. “I know the perfect little boutique,” she said. “All my students shop there. They do one-off, unique vintage pieces. You’ll love it.”
She was right. The minute I walked into the store, my eyes landed on this dress. And it looks even cooler on me than it did on the rack. The blood-orange color picks up the light in my hair and heightens the gold flecks in my eyes. The little cap sleeves and sweetheart neckline studded with beads make me feel like a movie starlet. The dress hugs my hips and thighs and then flares out into a fishtail skirt that’s made of some amazing silky, glittery material. It looks like it’s made for a fairy queen.
I look nothing like Lily Dean, Haddenwood’s resident nerd girl and archery captain.
I wish the Bellua boys could see me…
No. I don’t wish that. Because I don’t care what they think. I’m getting this dress for Chase. Chase, my date.
Why do those words ring like a death toll in my head?
“Come over to the window,” the assistant says as she pulls me towards the entrance of the store. “You’ll be able to see how the fabric shimmers in the light.”
“Go on, honey.” Mom has her phone raised. “Give us a twirl. I want a video to show your father.”
I obey, holding my hands up and twirling around. The skirt flares out around my legs, and the light catches the glittery surface. The fabric doesn’t just shimmer, it flickers like it’s on fire. The light plays off the tiny beads and the witch’s mark charm that still hangs around my wrist.
I close my eyes and let myself imagine walking into prom wearing this dress with a Bellua twin on each arm. Jackson’s wicked grin grows wide as he twirls me on the dance floor. Orion’s shadowed gaze sweeps over my body as he holds the door of the limo for me. And just as my favorite song starts up, a dark figure cuts in and rocks me in his shadowy embrace. Brooks Bellua stares down at me with those fathomless eyes of his, and I don’t care that he’s invaded my daydream…
Hey, dreams are free.
I swallow down the lump in my throat as I try to replace the Bellua brothers with Chase in my imagination, but it doesn’t work.
I open my eyes and jump out of my skin when I realize those same dark, fathomless eyes are watching me in the real world.
What the—?
My heart stops.
It’s Brooks.
He’s standing outside the window, looking so damn fine that the saliva dries in my mouth. He’s wearing faded black jeans and his army boots and that fuck-the-world scowl. His duster flaps around his ankles, and his hair is delightfully rumpled. He carries an armload of old silverware, and his eyes are fixed on me with a furious intensity that makes my knees weak.
He’s frozen on the pavement, an immovable force. A woman with a stroller tries to maneuver around him, but she can’t fit between him and the parked cars and he doesn’t seem to notice her.