It wouldn’t, I thought bitterly.Would it?
Swallowing hard, I started scanning the ballroom again, spotting Ms. Conan standing near the makeshift stage. She’d start the ceremony soon. There wouldn’t be time to find the Pembletons and introduce myself, not before we were cut off. Maybe Ms. Jenningsand Mom were able to weasel their way to Dr. Pembleton, to mention me, to brag about my college plans. Maybe?—
There. By the punch table. I spotted Lydia, Raelynn, and a few other girls my age surrounding a boy. From the ga-ga way Lydia was looking up at him, shoving herself to the front of the pack, I’d bet money that that was Carter Pembleton.
I suddenly felt tired. “Let’s just sit down,” I told Jamie, reaching for his wrist. “I can try to talk to Dr. Pembleton afterward. I—I just—not now?—”
I stopped, because Carter Pembleton’s eyes swiveled directly to mine.
And his face lit up.
At first, I thought he must’ve been looking beyond me, because surely the reaction wasn’t forme. We’d never met before. Nothing about him looked familiar, but recognition was written all across his face.
Murmuring something to his awaiting fans, he turned, striding across the dancefloor. And then it hit me. There was only one reason he’d recognize me when I didn’t recognize him.
In that moment, a new plan solidified in my mind, a path straight to the king.
“Go distract Mrs. Conan,” I ordered my brother. “Now.”
“What?”
“Go talk to her about Columbia or something. Keep her from starting the ceremony.”
“Why? So Mr. ASMR can come up to you? Nellie, I mean it, I?—”
“Carter Pembleton is coming over here,” I all but growled through my teeth, making sure my expression remained neutral. “Go.Please.”
Jamie looked around the room, spotting the quick-paced young man. “Fine. But if a fifty-year-old comes up to you, I’m getting Mom.”
“Helpful, Jamie.”
“Ever and always.” And then he was gone.
Carter still strode straight toward me, and in that moment, I couldn’t believe I’d gotten so lucky. My gaze dropped to his hands—his clearly young-looking hands. It was like pushing a chess piece blindly forward, only to find the risky move had worked in my favor, anyway.
The universe’s consolation for my orange-scented shoes.
I lifted my chin to focus on the black skylight in the ballroom, spelling in my head, calming down.
P-E-M-B-L-E-T-O-N.
B-E-C-K-H—no.
C-A-R-T-E-R P-E-M-B-L-E-T-O-N.
M-R A-S-M-R.
“E-Eleanor Brighton?”
The trembling, velvety voice was like a gunshot before a race, and all the adrenaline rushed through my veins at once.
Everything about Carter Pembleton was perfect, from the deep hue of his blue eyes to the way his light brown hair was styled out of his face. He wore a suit jacket despite the creeping heat, and it was a deep navy color that suited his skin tone. It wasn’t a Malstoni or Gilfman,but it was clearly by a designer who knew what they were doing.
P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
And then he smiled, and it was the most awkward smile I’d ever seen in my life. “Um, it’sme.”
I knew it had to be. After years of watching his hands on YouTube, I’d recognize those fiddling fingers anywhere. “Carter Pembleton?”
