FRIDAY, WHEN I wasn't in class, I was running to and fro calling people to ensure all the finishing touches were in place for the Summer Dance the next day. It was more than enough stress to keep my mind away from any thoughts of Noah.
Rachel, May, Lisa and I were all planning on going to this little spa on Saturday to get our nails and hair done; Lisa's mom worked there, so she got us a discount.
I felt so out of the loop though – all the girls were gushing constantly about their dates; how his tie matched her dress just perfectly, how their crush had asked them to save a dance, how he looked so hot in his tux . . .
And there was me, dateless. I'd be showing up alone. I couldn't ask any of the guys to go as friends because they all had dates. I must've been about the only person in the school who didn't have one.
'We can all go as friends, though, right?' Lisa said Friday lunchtime, when I had a twelve-minute break to grab some lunch. She was going with Cam. Dixon and May were going. Warren was taking a girl from his history class who I didn't really know too well.
'Yeah,' Lee agreed. 'That way you won't show up alone.'
'It works out fine, Elle, see?' Dixon tried convincing me.
'Well . . . you did turn down a lot of offers,' Cam said tentatively.
'I didn't, actually. He turned them down for me just about every time.' I didn't need to clarify who I was talking about, of course.
'Hey, speaking of, is your brother going to the dance, Lee?' Rachel asked him.
'I don't know. I couldn't care less if he does or not.'
Rachel and I exchanged a look, both knowing that Lee did care. But neither one of us said anything.
Even though we were all renting out the limo together and going together as a group, I'd still be alone.
I kneaded my forehead. I could try blaming Noah, try being mad at myself for letting him tell everyone who asked that I wasn't going with them.
But I knew why I hadn't put up a fight. I knew why perfectly well – because I'd assumed I'd be with him, given that it was a masquerade. I'd hoped he could be my date. He'd even asked me, that afternoon in the garage – not in so many words, but in his own way.
But no, that was not going to happen now, no way. And what were the chances of anybody asking me now, when the dance was tomorrow?
Zero.
My hair was blow dried and straightened to perfection, soft and sleek and shiny. My nails were done in the most immaculate French manicure. I'd spent the last half-hour on my make-up, following the 'professional's guide I'd found online.
Not that there was an awful lot of point: my mask covered half of my face. It was only for the sake of it, really.
My dress looked wonderful now I was dressed up properly. The dark apple-green color seemed to make my skin glow and my brown eyes sparkle from under the mask. The material swished gently when I moved, floating around my thighs. My silver kitten heels matched the beading on the dress and mask perfectly.
I looked great. Hell, I felt great!
I hadn't felt so normal in ages. It was almost as though the entire Noah situation had never happened.
Well, if I'm going to show up alone, I'll look pretty damn awesome doing it, I thought firmly. Then I remembered what usually happened at the Summer Dance: yes, I was sharing the limo with the others, but I wouldn't get a photo in the ballroom with my date, I wouldn't have my dad taking embarrassing photos of us . . .
I might have looked the part, but suddenly I didn't quite feel it.
I sighed and the doorbell rang. I picked up my silver clutch and checked myself one last time in the mirror. They were early, but at least I was ready.
'Elle, they're here,' Dad called up as he went to answer the door.
'Yeah,' I answered.
I went downstairs to meet them all and get into the limo. On the landing, I stuck my head in Brad's room. 'See you later, then.'
He paused his game to look at me. 'Wow. Took you long enough.'
'Long enough to what?'
'To go from troll-butt-ugly to not half bad.' But he smiled in his sweet ten-year-old way with his missing tooth, and I had to smile, ruffling his hair.
'Ugh, get off! God! You're so annoying!'
I laughed again, and said goodbye.
I stopped in my tracks at the top of the stairs.
' . . .want to speak to her.'
'She doesn't want to speak to you. I think you'd better leave now.'
'Not until I speak to her.'
'No. Now get the hell off my porch before I call the police.'
Noah pushed his way in anyway, and as my dad started shoving him back out, I let out a strange noise – it wasn't even a word, just a weird squeak that made them both pause and look up at me.
'What are you doing here?' I hissed at Noah, scurrying down the stairs while gripping the banister so I didn't trip in my tiny heels. 'Noah, what the hell are you doing here?'
'He's leaving . . .' It was said with all the threat of an angry father. It actually made Noah shift from one foot to the other; he was intimidated or, at the very least, uncomfortable.
I just looked at Noah, waiting for him to answer. Then I really looked at him.
He was wearing a white dress shirt and a slim green tie that was a little haphazardly slung around his neck. He had a black tux, but had paired it with his trademark black boots which he somehow managed to pull off as sexy. His dark hair almost fell into his eyes and looked a little windswept and disheveled.
He scratched the back of his neck nervously. 'I came to talk to you.'
I sighed and half turned to Dad. 'Can you give us a minute?'
'Fine,' he said after a long pause. He pointed a finger threateningly at Noah. 'But you lay one finger on her, and I swear—'
'Dad!' I hissed pointedly, jerking my head at the kitchen. He glared at Noah again and then walked into the kitchen. I could hear Brad's music still playing; he was totally oblivious to what was going on down here.
I looked over at Noah, who was stepping out of the front door. 'What are you doing? I thought you wanted to talk.'
'I told you, Elle. I'm going to do this right.'
And with that, he pulled the front door shut behind him. I stared at it in confusion for almost a full minute, feeling beyond lost, and then the doorbell rang.
Still baffled, I opened it.
And there was Noah, of course. Holding a white calla lily corsage. On one knee.
'What are you doing?' I said, laughing nervously.
'Elle Evans, will you be my date to the Summer Dance?'
I couldn't help it – I honestly couldn't. I burst out laughing. I saw him scowling at me, so I sobered up and bit my lip hard.
Seriously? Who'd have ever imagined Noah Flynn, of all people, the bad-ass (supposed) player and violence junkie, bending down on one knee on a girl's porch to ask her to the dance? It was just so surreal, it was hilarious.
'Are you serious?'
'Yeah. So are you going to be my date?'
I wavered. I wanted to say yes, and it was such a sweet gesture too. But I knew I shouldn't. It would be such a terrible decision to say yes. I'd hate myself for it. And I'd hate myself for saying no . . .
He stood up then, and looked at me with a little smile, one of those wonderfully rare, infectious smiles that showed his dimple in his left cheek.
'Come on, Shelly, cut me some slack here. I'm trying, aren't I? I know I was a complete jerk and I hurt you, and I've done and said a lot of things that I regret, and . . . I'm trying to make up for that here. Please come with me to the dance?'
He held out the corsage to me, and I looked down at the gorgeous, sweet-scented flower and back up to his face. He still had that smile, and a hopeful spark in his blue eyes. I couldn't say no to that face, could I?
'I . . . I don't know . . .' It came out as a whisper. 'I don't think it's a good idea.'
'Forget what everyone else thinks and what anybody else will say. What do you want?'
'I shouldn't – I mean, we can't—'
'Screw what's the right thing to do. What do you want?'
I looked at him. Ah, hell, I knew what I wanted to do. My head was just fighting it. I knew what I should do, what was the right thing, what everyone else wanted me to do.
'Shelly?' he prompted me, holding the corsage out again.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes for a moment. This was it. Do or die. Now or never.
It'd be doing everything against my better instinct and every piece of sense screaming at me . . .
I held out my wrist. 'Yes, Noah, I'll go to the dance with you.'
He gave a breath of laughter. 'Seriously?'
I nodded, looking him right in the eyes. He grinned wider that I've ever seen him smile, and pinned the corsage onto my wrist.
Refusing to listen to those stubbornly sensible thoughts, I blurted, 'Have you even got a mask? It is a masquerade.'
'Yeah.' He rolled his eyes with a slight smirk, as if to say, Duh.
'Oh, okay.'
He smiled at me again, and all I could do was smile back. 'I must be a complete fool agreeing to go to the dance with you.'
He nodded. 'Yup. So you ready to go?'
'Uh, one sec,' I said, and went to the kitchen, leaving Noah on the doorstep. I slipped inside – Dad had clearly just rushed back to his seat and grabbed the TV guide to make it seem like he hadn't been eavesdropping.
'Don't be mad,' I said quietly, hoping he wasn't too disappointed in me.
'I'm not mad, exactly . . . I just don't think it's a good choice,' he said, shaking his head at me. 'After everything you went through with Lee—'
'I know,' I said patiently, 'but . . .'
Dad sighed heavily, taking off his glasses and pressing his fingers to closed eyelids. 'There's a "but". Great. And just when I thought—'
'He got down on one knee to ask me,' I said. 'I think he's really sorry.'
'Mm.' Dad clearly thought otherwise. 'That, or he's only interested in one thing.'
'Dad. Come on. It's just a dance,' I said quietly. 'This doesn't mean I'm like . . . I don't know, back together with him, or whatever.'
'The fact you agreed to go speaks volumes, Elle. Look, do what feels right, but just be careful. I don't want you getting hurt. Or pregnant, for that matter,' he added sternly.
'Yes, Dad,' I said, ever the impatient teenage daughter.
'I'm serious, bud. You do what you want – do what feels like the right thing. I can't stop you. But I really don't think this is right for you.'
'I don't know what to do.' I sighed and felt like I was seven years old again, not almost seventeen. So I did what any vulnerable little old girl would do – I hugged my dad. 'I don't know what to do.'
He hugged me back. 'You'll figure it out.'
'I damn well hope so.'
He chuckled and pulled me up to my feet. 'Look at you, Elle. When did my little girl grow up?'
I gave him a little smile.
'You look gorgeous. And you'll figure this all out, I know you will.'
'He really does make me happy, Dad.'
He gave me a weary smile – one that suddenly made him look so much older.
I gave another half-smile in return and went back into the hallway, where Noah was waiting for me, looking a little nervous. I didn't even realize Dad had followed me out until he spoke.
'All right – well, I suppose if you're taking my little girl to this dance I have to have some photos.' He picked up the camera again and motioned for me to stand by Noah.
Feeling more than a little awkward, I shuffled over. Noah pulled me in close to his side, his arms going around me. I felt at ease in an instant. It was familiar. Nice.
Dad took a couple of photos and then said, 'Now listen up. I'm not happy with this at all, but if it's what Elle wants, then I'll put up with it – for now. But you do anything – and I mean anything at all – to hurt her, and boy, you'll wish you never stepped foot in here tonight. You got that?'
'Yes, sir,' answered Noah, sounding surprisingly sincere and polite.
'All right then. You kids have fun.'
'Bye, Dad,' I said. I shot him an encouraging smile and he gave me a dubious shrug in return. I pulled the door closed, and Noah, his arm still around my waist from the photos, guided me down the driveway.
'Wait,' I said, stopping. 'Does Lee know about this? Did you tell him?'
'No. Why? Does it really matter that much? Tell him later.' But he looked down at the ground when he said that last part.
'Well, they're all supposed to stop by, like, right now, with the limo . . .'
'Text them and tell them you've gone ahead. Or something went wrong and you'll meet them there later. I don't know. Tell them you're with me if you really want.'
'I'll say I had a make-up malfunction,' I'd already decided, and texted Lee.
They've just left Dixon's. Thanks for the heads up. Meet you there.
That was the wonderful thing about my best friend being a boy: no condolences and no worried messages asking if I needed help or what was wrong. He just accepted it without question.
I felt horrible for lying to him, even if it was only via text. I had a horrible, ominous sensation in my gut that it was all starting again – the lying, the sneaking around, the backstabbing . . . And the worst part was that I was doing it all so willingly, without a second thought.
But I could hardly text him saying, Don't worry about collecting me, I'm going to the dance with Noah instead now. Yeah, right.
I had to tell Lee to his face. Make him understand. Explain everything. That was the only way. No more lying. That was the least I could do now. He deserved more than a text, or even a phone call.
I wondered for a moment what Noah was doing when he went to the passenger side of the car. Surely he wasn't going to let me drive? He barely let anybody touch his car without permission. Lee was almost as bad – he never let me drive his car either. (Seriously – one teeny tiny scratch on my dad's car from a mailbox and I'm branded for life.)
But instead, he held the door open for me. It was such a gentlemanly gesture that I wondered if my eyes were working properly.
'Thanks . . .' I said, unsure, sliding into his car. He shut the door behind me before getting in himself, then pulling away and heading to the Royale. It was a twenty-minute drive maybe, and I had no idea how to fill that time without things being awkward between us.
I did have one question I needed to ask, though.
'What do we do, then? Just turn up there together and let everyone know we're . . . we're . . . whatever we are?' I didn't want to say 'dating' in case he didn't think we were.
Noah sighed. 'Look, I'm going to just lay it all down here, Elle. Cards up. I like being with you. I really care about you – more than I probably should. So . . . I don't want to lose you again. I'm trying to make things up to you here, but I get it if you want this to stay . . . you know, casual or whatever.'
'So . . .?'
'So, what I'm trying to say here is . . . I guess it's up to you.'
My heart was pounding so hard, I hardly heard the rest of what he said.
'If you, you know . . . want to date . . . be a couple . . .'
I stared at him – from his eyes, which were focused on the stop sign in front, to his fingers, flexed around the steering wheel. He looked . . . well, there was no other word for it: vulnerable.
He'd told me why he never had girlfriends, only flings – because they didn't want to date a guy who gets into fights. And I didn't blame any of those girls. But . . . there was no denying it: Noah had a really, really sweet and caring side. Like showing up at my door tonight, and holding the car door open for me.
Lee is going to hate me for this . . .
But what I said was, 'I have to talk to Lee first. I can't just drop this on him.'
I didn't say anything in so many words, but even so, Noah's eyes brightened when he looked over at me. A smile – not a smirk, a smile – was tugging at the corners of his lips. 'Really?'
I laughed. 'Really, really.'
We both knew what my answer really was. But I needed to make sure I wasn't going to lose my best friend over this. No guy, not even Noah, was worth that. And he understood I'd said I had to tell Lee first.
I didn't get a chance to say any more, because he leaned in quickly to give me a quick kiss on the lips before the lights changed. It was way too quick for my liking, but it still made my heart go wild.
He reached over and his hand found mine, our fingers linking together. It felt so natural and easy, like we fit perfectly – even if everything about our personalities and habits would've suggested otherwise.
The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence. Except it wasn't an awkward kind of silence, one where I wondered if I should make conversation. It was the nice kind of silence. The one where you just enjoy the company.
We weren't too far from the Royale now. There was a little traffic, thanks to the fire truck, the two police cars, a bunch of limos, the town cars and the Rolls-Royce, and the two or three horse-drawn carriages – not to mention the people who'd turned up with their normal everyday cars.
'The limos I understand,' Noah said. 'But the carriages? That's just madness. It's not like MTV are gonna be here. It's a total waste of money.'
I laughed at that, having thought pretty much the same thing.
I smoothed out my dress and then took out a compact to touch up my lipstick. Feeling his eyes on me, I glanced over at Noah. 'What?'
'Nothing.'
'No, seriously, what is it?' I persisted, checking myself in my too-small mirror, wondering if maybe there was lipstick on my teeth now.
'Nothing. You look great.'
'Oh. Thanks. Hey, it's weird how your tie matches my dress.'
He looked down at his tie, like he needed visual confirmation. 'Well, yeah. I remembered you telling me your dress was green, and this was the only green tie I could find at the mall that wasn't covered in palm trees.'
My reflection grinned back at me as I continued to check my makeup.
'Honestly, Elle, put it away. You look gorgeous enough already.'
Gorgeous . . . I couldn't stop smiling. 'Really?'
'Really, really,' he chuckled. The traffic started moving, now that the limos had begun to disperse, and we crawled forward another few yards. 'Oh, hey, look – there's your limo.'
I craned my neck, looking over to where he pointed. A black stretch SUV limo was parked outside the Royale doors, and I recognized Lee instantly, with Rachel on his arm, and the others all climbing out after them.
With everybody in their masks, it was actually quite hard to tell who people were. You could easily mistake them for someone else. Plus, a lot of the boys wore plain masks that all looked really similar.
Maybe nobody (except Lee, of course) would recognize me and Noah together. Maybe I wouldn't be surrounded by hordes of girls wanting to know why I'd turned up with Noah Flynn.
I kind of hoped we wouldn't be recognized. It would make this night a whole lot easier.
We drew up to the hotel, where a valet was waiting to park the car. I got out, but not before Noah had rushed around to open the door for me. I hadn't even noticed him put his mask on; it was a black one with gray metal studs on the top edge, and it covered at least half his face.
The valet took the keys from Noah while Noah put an arm around my waist and guided me up to the doors. I could feel people looking at us already, trying to figure out who we were. And we weren't even inside the ballroom yet.
There was a knot in the pit of my stomach and I could hear my breathing getting a shallower.
'Calm down,' Noah whispered in my ear, his breath tickling my cheek. 'It'll be fine, I swear.'
'Oh, I really hope you're right . . .'