Page 111 of Romeo

The drive to Rosewood High was quieter than I expected, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Fiona sat beside me with her hands folded in her lap, the corsage on her wrist catching the streetlights whenever we passed beneath them. Every so often, she smoothed a hand over her dress or glanced out the window, only to look straight ahead again.

She was nervous.

I could’ve told her she didn’t have a damn thing to be nervous about. That when we walked into that school, every person inside was going to wonder how they’d managed to overlook her.

Instead, I kept my hands on the wheel and my mouth shut.

She’d already had enough people telling her what she should feel tonight.

The parking lot was packed when we arrived, cars wedged into every available space and music faintly pulsing through the brick walls of the school. I found a spot near the entrance, killed the engine, and reached for the door.

Fiona didn’t move.

I looked over.

Her fingers were twisted together now.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She glanced toward the school. “Just... it’s been a while since I’ve done something like this.”

The last time she’d come here for a dance, she hadn’t made it through the doors. Neither of us needed to say it; instead, I reached across the console and took her hand, easing her fingers apart before threading mine through them.

“You look beautiful, Cher. And anyone who doesn’t see that isn’t worth your time.”

She turned toward me, and for a second those pale silver eyes took every clever thing I’d ever known how to say and scattered it.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Ready?”

Her smile was small, but it was real. “Ready.”

I got out and walked around to open her door. She put her hand in mine and stepped onto the pavement, the silver skirt moving around her legs as she straightened.

I’d seen beautiful women my entire life.

None of them had ever made me forget what the fuck I was doing.

Fiona looked up at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

Her eyes narrowed and I smiled and offered my arm. “Come on, Ma Belle.”

She slipped her hand through it, and we headed toward the entrance.

The first few people who noticed us did double takes. By the time we stepped into the gym, there was enough staring that Fiona’s grip tightened around my arm.

The room looked like every high school dance committee in America had raided the same catalog. White linens covered the tables, strings of lights hung from the ceiling, and somebody had spent entirely too much time trying to make a gymnasium floor look romantic.

None of it held my attention long.

Fiona did.

She’d gone stiff beside me.

A group of girls near the refreshment table whispered to one another. A couple of boys looked our way, then looked again. Fiona noticed every bit of it.