Alistair sighed. “So, I guess this means there’s no getting out of the dance.”
The court was presented at the football game on Friday, but the winners were crowned halfway through the dance Saturday, per a tradition set long before the magical school decided to actually field a football team.
“Getting out of the dance?” Oakley asked. “Why would you want to miss it?”
“Because he thinks it’sbeneathhim,” Fairfax answered, a little smile tipping his lips. “Alistair always finds something very posh to do with his moms that weekend. Skiing or antiquing or whatever white people do in the country when they’re not there to farm.”
“Skiing? In October?” Balthazar scoffed. “Come on, polo and bocce were right there.”
“The point is,” Embry started, turning the ship back around, “there’s no missing this year, Alistair. Your presence is required. If you try to skip, I’ll drag you out of your room myself.”
Ames side-eyed Alistair and shook her head. “She will. Don’t test her, Elton-Bentley.”
The diviner scrubbed his handsome walnut curls off his face. “I’m not asking for a test. I’m simply saying if you want me to go, you should just comewithme.”
Embry’s lips twitched.
Did Alistair Elton-Bentley just ask her to the dance? Or was he making a statement? She couldn’t tell from his expression, which was guarded in its aristocratic way. If Embry interpreted it as a request for her to be his date, he’d accept that. If she misread his intent, the wording protected either one from something very awkwardandvery public. Alistair’s phrasing hung there, waiting for her choice. Their friends seemed frozen around them, watching.
A smile broke across Embry’s face, and she nudged Alistair’s shoe. “Of course, we should go all together. You think I’m going to pass up this opportunity to color-coordinate?”
“Well,we’rewearing pink,” Ames announced, snuggling Fairfax while rushing in to bail Embry out because she was the literal best. “And before you can joke about me borrowing that hideous costume of yours, Em, I’m thinking a rose pink, not Pepto.”
“Thank the Goddess,” Fairfax mused. “I prefer not to match my ties to over-the-counter diarrhea medicine.”
“Laugh it up, I’ll be a very memorable Witch on stage,” Embry shot back, smoothing the tulle skirt draped over her legs. “It got your attention, did it not?”
Before either Ames or Fairfax could drum up a suitable quip, Alistair drilled Embry with his attention yet again. “If they’re wearing pink, what are we wearing?”
Now, that could not be misconstrued.
Oakley narrowed her eyes. Balthazar stiffened. Alistair didn’t drop his gaze from Embry’s face. Ames watched Fairfax as he rubbed a hand across his jaw and half laughed, half scoffed. “Are we really doing this right now, my dude? After all these years?”
Doing “this”? What did—
“When I first met you guys you said you weren’t a thing,” Oakley whispered, narrowed eyes scanning from Embry to Alistair. “But you are.” The vampire wrenched herself away from the diviner’s side, so she could more easily inspect Alistair’s expression. He did not waver from watching Embry. “You’re asking her to the dance to make it official.”
“No, that’s not it,” Embry barged in, her words smushed into a single syllable as her mouth automatically formed an apologetic smile. One arm flailed at Alistair. “He’s simply—”
“I’m simply asking if you’d be my date to the homecoming dance,” Alistair cut in coolly. “I would be honored if you were on my arm, Embry.”
“This is even better than I thought it would be,” Fairfax stage-whispered to Ames.
“She’s processing,” Ames whispered back. “This is gonna be good.”
Actually, Embry wasn’t processing.
There was nothing to be processed. Absolutely none of this was real. Which was good because she really did not want nosy Rye overhearing from the next room, because he would most definitely not let this go. If it were real, of course. But it couldn’t be real because there’d never been anything romantic between them.Like, ever.
That reflexive smile was back. It was nearly a grimace now. “You don’t mean that.” She looked to Oakley. To Balthazar. “He doesn’t mean that—”
“I do mean it. Every word.”
Why was she suddenly so hot? Sweat pricked on Embry’s skin, at the roots of her hair,insideher eyeballs. She shook her head emphatically. “No.”
“Yes, Embry, he does,” Fairfax insisted with a little chuckle thatfelt as if it were at her expense. “Put me under oath, I can solemnly swear as a dude-bro confidant, that if pining were an actual physical act like, I don’t know,mining, my guy Alistair would’ve dug himself a tunnel to his mothers’ beach house on the French Riviera and back by the time senior year started.”
Alistair didn’t deny it. Ames nodded her head. Embry couldn’t look at Oakley or Balthazar for some reason.
