Page 16 of Stalked

As we approach the entrance, heads start to turn. Whispers break out. A freshman nearly trips over his date's dress when he spots us.

“Is that Lia Morgan with Vane Blackwood?”

“No way...”

“Didn't she hate him?”

“I thought they were going to kill each other in Chemistry last week!”

I lead Lia through the decorated doors into the transformed gym, keeping my hand at the small of her back. The music pounds as conversations falter and eyes swing our way. It's like Moses parting the Red Sea—people actually step back to make room for us.

“Everyone's staring,” Lia murmurs, her lips barely moving.

“Let them,” I say, tightening my grip on her waist. “They're just shocked that the two rivals are walking in together.”

The DJ switches to a slower track, and the lights dim across the dance floor. Perfect timing.

“Dance with me,” I say, not quite a question. I extend my hand to Lia, watching her eyes widen slightly.

She hesitates, glancing toward the edge of the gym. I follow her gaze to where her friends are clustered near the punch bowl—Megan, Zoe, Dani, and James.

Megan catches Lia's eye and breaks into a grin, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. The others follow suit, even James, though he looks reluctant.

A smile tugs at Lia's lips. “Looks like I have their blessing,” she says, turning back to me.

“Like you needed it,” I reply, still holding my hand out.

“Fine,” she agrees, placing her hand in mine. “One dance, Blackwood.”

I guide her to the center of the floor, aware of the curious stares following us. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer than strictly necessary. Her body stiffens before gradually relaxing against me.

“I've never seen you nervous before,” I murmur as we begin to move. “It's cute.”

“I'm not nervous,” she protests, but her fingers tighten on my shoulder. “I'm just... processing the surreality of dancing with my nemesis at prom.”

I laugh. “Nemesis? That's what you call someone you've gotten off with?”

Her cheeks flush beautifully. “Shut up,” she whispers, glancing around to make sure no one heard.

“Make me,” I challenge, pulling her closer until our bodies are pressed together.

She doesn't push away. Instead, her amber eyes lock with mine, a silent battle of wills as we sway to the music. Her dress feels like liquid beneath my palm, and the scent of her perfume—something floral with an edge—fills my senses.

“You're a better dancer than I expected,” she admits after a moment.

“I'm full of surprises.”

The song ends, and the next one is faster, but I keep her close, unwilling to break this moment. When her hips start moving against mine to the rhythm, it takes everything in me not to drag her out of here right now.

“Having fun yet?” I ask.

She smiles—not her usual guarded smile, but a real smile. “Surprisingly, yes.”

We dance through three more songs, her body relaxing more with each one. When she laughs at something I say, throwing herhead back and exposing the delicate line of her throat, I have to clench my jaw to keep from kissing her right there on the dance floor.

Later, we join her friends at their table. Even they appear to be warming up to me, though James still watches me like I might steal his wallet. Smart kid.

“Want something to drink?” I ask Lia, needing a moment to collect myself.