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“I don’t know how to do this.” She flings one of her scuffed New Rock boots into the wall and flops down on the bed.
“Do what?”
“Go to a dance with a boy. What do I even say to Isaac? I can barely talk to anyone, actually. But boys are the worst. I don’t even have to be into them and I turn into a hamster. I sat next to Eli the whole game last night and we barely said a word to each other.”
“You seemed to be doing fine to me.” I shrug, pretending I hadn’t noticed or cared she sat with Eli last night at the game (which Stonehurst lost, as predicted. Our cheerleading routine, however, went off perfectly despite Daphne trying to trip me during the opening number). I can still feel the burn of his eyes on me as I spun through my kicks and tumbles, and the stab of jealousy in my chest as Eli and George bent their heads together to whisper to each other.
They looked like they had plenty to talk about.
Even when he hates me, Eli is still the Golden Boy, shunning his many other friends to sit with George – who has no one else and only came in the first place out of loyalty to me. And then, on Wednesday, George didn’t show up at our table for lunch. I went looking for her in case Cleo had done something to her, and found her and Eli bent over a desk in the computer lab, laughing at a video of Gizmo on his phone. I snuck away before they could see me.
I’m dying to ask George if Eli said anything about me, but I can’t put her in the middle like that, not when I know she carries a candle for Eli and that she’s already wound up about the dance.
I don’t have to wonder why George has a crush on Eli. Of course she does – he’s perfect. I don’t know if it’s the same kind of heart-pounding, pulse-racing, panty-melting want she has for Isaac, or if it’s more of an innocent kid-sister thing born of his kindness. It doesn’t matter. He deserves someone like George, someone who won’t barge into his life like an iceberg to sink all his hopes and dreams to the bottom of the icy ocean.
I have Noah and Gabriel. I need to let Eli go. He can be with George if he wants to, or any other girl. Even Cleo, if that sack of bitching and Botox makes him happy. He has every reason to never speak to me again.
I wish…
Daddy showed me how to sneak a Roman bust into the country and how to stand on a man’s windpipe until he stops breathing. But he never taught me how to mend a broken heart.
To distract myself from imagining what can never be, I yank George off the bed and give her hair a final twist. “There you go. You’re ready to knock his socks off.”
“Thank you, Mackenzie.” George’s eyes sweep over my outfit. “Do you need anything else?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I’m better than good. I’m fierce. The ice-blue fishtail dress George picked out for me hugs my curves perfectly. There’s a scattering of beading across the breast and around the hem that catches the light as I move, and the crystal crown she’s set into my hair sparkles under the garish lighting. I’m a mermaid – the Ice Queen of the deep.
I text Gabriel to let the guys know we’re ready. A moment later, the front door of the condo bangs open. George and I hang over the mezzanine as Gabriel grins up at us, a bottle of Champagne in hand.
Gabriel pours drinks while we crowd around, taking selfies with the horrific decor. My chest does a little flip-flop as I take in my dates. True to his promise, Gabriel is wearing a pinstripe, gangster-style suit – the narrow lines accentuating every sinful curve and muscle of his body. A black skinny tie covered in grinning skulls and a pair of patent leather creepers covered in bones perfect his look. With his freshly-dyed crimson hair and a bone-shaped stud in his labret piercing, Gabe is every inch the bad boy rockstar. Well, almost every inch – I notice the drink in his hand is sparkling grape juice.
And Noah… fuck me dead, Noah Marlowe is magnificent. His suit and shirt are pure midnight black, matching his eyes and his heart. The only sparkle of color are two dots of blood-red on his cufflinks – rubies sparkling from their gold settings. He steps up to me and hands me a velvet box. I open it to see a matching ruby ring.
I swallow.
I want to say something, but the words catch in my throat.
No one’s ever given me a gift like this before. Noah’s coal-eyes bore into mine as he removes the ring from its cushion and slips it on my finger. “I wanted to give you something that would remind you of my promise.”
I will bleed for you.
Fire leaps beneath my skin as Noah’s fingers caress mine. I press my hand against my pattering heart. The metal is cool, grounding. Against my pale skin and the ice of my dress, the color of the red jewel deepens to rich crimson. Our blood. Our promise.
Gabriel admires my finger as I hold the jewel up to the light, admiring it from all angles. “I can’t let Marlowe here steal the show.” He hands me a larger box. “Everyone at the dance has to know you’re my girl, too.”
My breath hitches, and I’m afraid I might cry. I lift the lid off the box and gasp. Inside is an amazing corsage made of metal wire and crystal beads – all in glittering ice blue and silver, like the skeleton of a flower. Gabriel points to the matching buttonhole on his lapel. His fingers dig under the neckline of my dress, brushing against my nipple as he threads the pin through the fabric. My whole body is alive with fire and need and… something else. I can’t speak. My throat’s closed over. My heart is dancing and I’m not sure if I’m going to throw up or float away.
“Thank you,” I manage to choke out. Gabriel laughs, holding his hand up to Noah for a high five.
“We’ve rendered Mackenzie Malloy speechless. We’re the greatest boyfriends in the universe.”
Noah returns the high five with a rueful smile.
“Obviously,” Gabe continues, “I’m the superior boyfriend because my dick is so large and my songs make girls cry…”
I let them argue about dick size as I stare down at their gifts – perfect pieces of themselves they’ve given to me. George grins at me and grabs my phone to take our picture. Isaac has been hanging with Noah and Gabriel, and he got George a corsage too – a more traditional one with real flowers, but instead of a ribbon, it has a little fabric cat face.
I think how much this scene feels like something from a teen movie… the perfect moment where the heroine’s heart melts into her shoes. All these years I wished I could be someone I wasn’t – the pink princess with the perfect boyfriend and absolutely no dangerous mobsters trying to bury her alive. For tonight I have it – I have the impossible dream. The best friend. The two gorgeous boys who possess my heart. Lungs that still draw breath. And a ballroom filled with students ready to be blown away by my presence.
