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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Liv’s excitement about the Mardi Gras ball is so contagious that, by Friday afternoon, I’m able to go more than five minutes without dwelling on my anger.

She’s been keeping me busy testing different hairstyles and trying on jewelry.

And she knocked on every door in Newberry Hall until she found the perfect shoes to go with my dress.

She’s even done an impressive job of not talking about Zander—too much.

It’s Saturday evening now, and we’ve been in Asheville for over an hour.

I sit on the edge of the hotel bed, peering into the full-length mirror bolted to the wall.

Mia and Jenna have already headed down to the dining room with Trevor, but Liv is still with me, putting the finishing touches on my updo.

“You didn’t happen to bring that faerie clip, did you?”

Fortunately, she doesn’t notice me stiffen. “No, why?”

“It would be pretty in the back here.” She shrugs and steps back to admire her handiwork. “But that’s okay, your hair still looks spectacular, if I do say so myself.” A knock on the door sends her running and squealing. “That’s Braden! ”

He saunters into the room, model-perfect in his tux, and right behind him is Zander. I wasn’t expecting him to come up and get me.

He grins. “Where’s my beautiful date?”

Ugh, why does he have to look so good in formalwear?

When I go to him, he rests a hand on my hip and kisses me on the forehead. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks. So do you.”

Offering me an arm, he leads me down to dinner, his free hand covering mine where it rests in the crook of his elbow.

Braden and Liv follow us, giggling and flirting like high schoolers.

According to Zander, Braden’s already hit the open bar.

More than once. So it’s no surprise when, first thing, he leads Liv there and orders her a Long Island Iced Tea. I opt for wine.

Our meal is nothing to write home about.

The chicken cordon bleu tastes okay, but the twice-baked potatoes are dry.

I pick at mine while Zander keeps a watchful eye on my wineglass, never letting it get below half full.

He offers me some of his chicken when he notices it’s the only thing I like, and makes sure the bread basket is never out of my reach.

At our table, spring break in Panama City is the topic du jour. Who’s rooming with whom, who’s bringing the hard liquor, who got arrested last year.

Zander leans in and murmurs in my ear, “You’re welcome to come, you know.”

“I know. Liv’s already invited me.” About thirty times in the past week.

“Well, now I’m inviting you.” In other words, he wants me to go with him —lie on the beach with him, drink with him, party with him. Sleep with him.

“I don’t know if I’m going yet.” I’m pretty sure I’m not. I mean, I shouldn’t, should I? Or would a week of relaxation and oblivion be exactly what I need after months of so much turmoil ?

Zander full-on smiles, making me wriggle in my gold-painted chair. He’s confident he can convince me to go, and with Braden and Liv on his side, he’s got a better shot than I’d like to admit.

“Come on, Betsy.” Braden gives me a charming, lopsided grin. “I can’t babysit Zander all by myself.”

“I’m not interested in a working vacation.”

“Yeah, but I hear the pay is fantastic.”

I roll my eyes at him, trying and failing to suppress a smile. “Shut up and eat your vegetables.”

Under the table, Zander squeezes my knee. And because of his attentiveness, because of his lethal dimples, because of the amount of wine I’ve consumed, I don’t brush him away. Even when his hand creeps further up my thigh.

After dessert, two servers in bow ties and black vests swing open the doors to the ballroom.

Masquerade masks in an array of metallic colors lay in rows on a table beside the entrance.

Some have glitter, others feathers or rhinestones.

The guys go for the simple ones in silver, black, and blue.

But I select a white mask, with curlicues of frosty glitter and a feather on one side.

Liv helps me get it on without messing up my hair. “Perfect.” She pops a chef’s kiss, then lets me adjust the black and silver, rhinestone-studded mask she’s chosen to go with her black dress. She’s so stunningly beautiful, I can’t understand how Braden isn’t on his knees.

I take Zander’s arm as we enter the ballroom.

Fairy lights sparkle from the ceiling like stars, and floor-to-ceiling windows offer a picture-perfect view of downtown Asheville.

The DJ opens with a slow song, calling couples to the dance floor like the Pied Piper.

Zander leads me right into the middle of the throng and pulls me in close.

“Thanks for coming tonight.”

I stretch my arms over his shoulders. “I have to admit, I’m having a nice time.” He seems to be working awfully hard to show me what I’ve given up .

“With me?”

“Yes, with you.”

He runs his hand up my back and murmurs softly, “Do you miss me at all?”

Admittedly, there’s a lot to miss: his smile, his laugh, and how I fit so perfectly in his arms. “Yes,” I say. Because maybe wearing this mask makes it easier for me to say the truth aloud.

He tilts his head like he’s about to kiss me, but I turn away, my self-protective instincts kicking in.

I hook my arms under his and tip my head against his jaw, reminiscing as we sway.

It was uncomplicated being Zander’s girlfriend.

A simple equation with only three variables: time, devotion, and sex.

So long as I consistently gave him all three, he was affectionate and faithful. So close to perfect, and yet so not.

Because nobody owns me.

When the DJ starts a round of dance music, we break apart and I sweep all these concerns aside. I came tonight to have fun, not to ruminate on relationships, especially the ones I’ve been in as of late.

Soon we’re joined by Braden, Liv, and several others, including none other than Lara. Her haughty posture and red hair are enough to give her away, even in her gold mask.

“Betts, it’s so good to see you,” she says, like she’s the hostess of this shindig and I was at the bottom of the invite list. “I wasn’t sure if you were going to come.”

“Well, here I am.” Sorry if I’m wrecking your plans to smash Zander tonight.

He slides his arms around me from behind, sending her a big fat signal that I’m sure she’ll ignore. She’s been after him since day one, I just didn’t see it until now. Her effusive praise at the KPT open house, her eagerness to get to know me and get on my good side. She’s been infiltrating.

The Nàdarians should get Lara to help them find the weapon. No one can plot and sneak as well as she can.

“Who’d you come with?” I ask her .

“Cole.”

Who, incidentally, is nowhere to be found.

“Oh. Are you two going out?”

She shrugs, her eyes on the guy holding me. Poor Cole.

I turn to Zander. “Let’s get some drinks.”

His frown lifts as he takes my hand and guides me back out to the dining room. “It’s open bar, babe. Go wild.”

“Hmm. Okay.” I ask the bartender for suggestions and finally agree to a Cosmopolitan. It’s delicious. Dangerously delicious.

We enjoy a peaceful, Lara-free hour, buzzes building as we drink and dance.

Except for a quick break to help Braden with the raffle tickets, Zander hasn’t left my side, or should I say front.

We’re plastered together as we pulse to the music, and my naughty hands have been wandering—into his curls, down his chest, across his back.

I’m fast approaching that oblivion I’ve been seeking.

My mind has clocked out and left my body in charge.

We’ve all shucked our masks, but Braden and Jake are keeping things festive by weaving through the sea of bodies handing out Mardi Gras beads. When they get to Jenna, Mia, Liv, and me, Braden grins and waggles his brows. “You ladies know what you have to do to earn a string.”

We all look down at our one-piece cocktail dresses. How are we supposed to flash anyone in these?

“Just give me the damn beads,” Mia says, shoving him in the shoulder. He wisely hands over several strands. Meanwhile, Jenna offers Jake a black bra strap and a bare shoulder.

Braden turns to me and winks. “How about a little leg, Betsy?”

What can I say? Braden knows how to make a girl feel hot and I’m just drunk enough to enjoy it. I reach for the hem of my already short dress and pull up, noticing the flash of heat in Braden’s eyes when I reach the lace of my thigh-highs.

Zander growls at him and snatches away my hand. “Back off B. You’ve got your own girl, you don’t need to be eye-fucking mine.” He nabs a handful of beads and pushes his best friend in Liv’s direction .

It takes some cajoling to get the scowl off Zander’s face. I stroke his jaw and flirt. “Are you gonna give me those beads?”

“If you show me what you showed him.”

I take his hand and slide it up my thigh, past the lace. His pupils dilate as his fingers grip my bare skin. “Fuck, I miss you.”

“I want my beads.”

He places two of the three strands around my neck.

“Ooo. Purple,” I remark. As cheap as they are, the plastic beads catch the lights and sparkle like real jewels. “What about the last one?” I eye the gold string dangling over Zander’s forearm.

“If you give me a kiss.”

My stomach flips but I ignore it, burying my fingers in his thick hair as he covers my mouth with his. This feels so good, so non-threatening and familiar. I sink against him, letting him hold me up with his strong arms. “Babe—” he groans, and kisses me again.

I pull away before I completely lose control. I’m too lit to comprehend what I’m doing and why.

Satisfied, Zander gives me the last strand of glittering beads. They swing back and forth across my chest as I dance. Feeling generous, I give the green necklace back to him, giggling when he double wraps it like an opera-length string of pearls.