It was all really weird, and Rose ended up walking back into his arms the next day, not admitting defeat exactly, but I think Connor would count it as a success.
“Is this time different?” Poppy wonders.
Rose blinks in confusion, wracking her brain. “I don’t know. I guess not. He told me that I was being inane about something. I can’t even remember what, but we both split at the restaurant. We rode in separate cabs home, and we haven’t talked since.” Realization hits her, and she collapses back against the seat. “God, what am I doing? I feel like I’m in prep school when I’m with him sometimes. It drives me crazy.”
I open my mouth, so tempted to sing the Britney Spears song again.
Rose shoots me a look. “Don’t. You. Dare.”
I laugh instead, and it takes a long moment for Rose to join in. She puts the bottle to her lips, swigging one last time just as the limo rolls to a stop.
Here we go.
{4}
Assigned seating. I curse you.
Fifty tables fill the grand ballroom, and my mother wedged us near the front under the brightest lamp. Not only do we have to endure our dates, but we have to do so under the scalding heat of a spotlight. While we wait for the guys to find us, I play with the glittery napkin ring on my plate and try not to anxiously scratch my arms.
My mother’s party planner had too much fun with the black and gold decorations. A black sparkler centerpiece fits in the center of every gold clothed table. Photos of gold Fizz cans with black carbonation bubbles are framed along the walls. Diet Fizz is the reverse color scheme with black cans and gold bubbles.
At least Fizzle’s logo isn’t lime green and puke pink—two colors that would induce an instant migraine. Still, you think she could have branched out a little bit. Maybe added a splash of blue or red. But no, those are Coca-Cola and Pepsi’s colors. No Fizzle-loving person would dare touch them.
I’m going stir-crazy waiting for our dates, but at least Rose and Daisy sit next to me, not allowing any room for a guy to settle near me. I also choose not to glance around for them like Rose, who scans the floor trying to speculate who the hell our mother invited to be our arm candy. Anyway, too many people mill about the ballroom for me to play that guessing game. They congregate by the open bar or eat fancy hors d'oeuvres as servers pass.
I feel like I’m at a million-dollar wedding reception.
Daisy leans back on the legs of her chair and folds her cloth napkin into a flower, clearly bored. “How convenient that Maria suddenly came down with a stomach bug.” Poppy never even made it out of the limo. The nanny called her as soon as Maria threw up, and she turned around to take her to the doctor. “I need to have a baby so I can use it as a way to bail.”
Rose clenches a champagne glass firmly in her hand. Her eyes shoot to our youngest sister. “Let’s not talk about children.”
“Yeah,” I say with a small smile. “The word baby gives Rose hives.”
Rose sips her drink, not disagreeing.
And that’s when I feel a hand plant on my shoulder. And by the force and the size, I know it’s male.
“Lily Calloway,” he says with added pleasure. I know that voice. I just can’t place it. I rarely can.
I slowly crane my neck over my shoulder, and my eyes widen in horror. I recognize the All-American build, blue eyes, and swept back brown hair. Even outside of prep school, he looks like a star quarterback—even if his sport of choice was lacrosse.
I didn’t sleep with Aaron Wells. I didn’t touch a hair on his head, and I never would. Because this douchebag tried to stuff Lo into a locker in ninth grade. Lo spun out of his grasp and sprinted down the hall, away from Aaron and a pack of restless bullies. Aaron wasn’t fast enough to catch him.
Lo fights indirectly with people. So I knew he wouldn’t retaliate with a baseball bat, swinging at Aaron’s head in angry retribution. There are some things that hurt worse than a punch. I think his father taught him that. Lo paid a guy to break into the school and alter Aaron’s exam grades, and his GPA fell. For guys like Aaron, reputation is everything and being on the bottom of the graduating class can ruin status. He must have realized Lo was the cause, so one day after school Aaron tried to confront him with fists bared. He clocked him. Lo escaped. As he always did. Four years passed and their feud escalated.
I became a target.
Aaron would try to trap me in the bathrooms, and I vehemently dodged him. I stayed glued to Lo’s side during every hour of the day. In those couple months, I remember being really scared to go to school. I didn’t know what Aaron wanted to do to me, but since their rivalry already became physical, I didn’t necessarily want to find out. I remember skipping often and fearing moments in between class. I’d jump even when it was just Lo who approached, and when he could tell I was becoming psychologically fucked from Aaron’s threats, he decided to do something more drastic to protect me.