Page 35 of Forged By Shadows

“I’ve never done this sort of thing,” I confess to Garrett. He’s watching me casually, but I’ve come to know he sees more than he says. My movements are being cataloged, so I might as well be upfront. “The galas and award ceremonies were always Wyatt’s thing. I much preferred staying home and watching through the TV screen.”

“Sounds lonely.” I snort a laugh.

“You haven’t met Meg’s friends. During spring break, we had a group come and stay while Nixon and my mom were out of town. Gowns and galas may not be my thing, but apparently booty shorts and beer kegs are.”

“Really?” Garrett sits forward, his face alight with curiosity. Tasha returns with her arms filled with special garments she keeps out back. Every single one is exquisite, and a one-off she assures me. I shift through the selection, unsure where to start.

“What color will Axel’s suit be?” I try to approach the selection process from a logical standpoint. If Meg were here, she'd have already picked out my entire outfit with matching accessories. Garrett laughs, verging on bitterly.

“You won’t get that man in a suit and tie. He’s triggered by tight collars around his neck. He’ll wear a very expensive t-shirt and jeans though.” I peer back but Garrett’s attention is on the images littering his arms. No doubt he’s looking for space to squeeze in something else. Affronted with Tasha’s curious gaze, I think back to the frat house party. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but where the rest of the gang wore shirts and slacks, I now remember Axel in a fitted tee. Interesting.

“So I’m matching denim. Navy blue is it.” This immediately whittles the selection to two dresses. A much more manageable choice. Tasha leaves to set up the dressing room while I browse shoes and bags, cursing myself for being so shit at this type of thing. Although maybe it’s not that I’m shit. Maybe it’s that I don’t really care for it. Gowns, diamonds; it’s all so frivolous. I’ve never been interested in being dressed up and paraded around.

Arms wind around my waist, fingers prying a clutch from my hand. Garrett’s head drops into the crook of my neck. He inhales, my eyes flutter closed. The press of his body, the steady rise and fall of his chest. A rare moment of stillness takes place and my mind drifts. How long has it been since Garrett was still? Since he took the time to quiet his mind? Warmth spreads through my entire body, my back molding into him. I feel light and weirdly safe, despite knowing Garrett of all people could switch personas and leave me in the dust if he wishes.

“I knew you’d be perfect for him.” The whisper brushes my collarbone. My gut churns. As much as Axel is a gorgeously haunted man who I could see myself connecting with on a deep level, there’s something similar within Garrett. We stand in our embrace for a while. Long enough for the small voice in the back of my head to grow from an equally tentative whisper to a shout, overpowering all common sense.

Maybe I want to be perfect for you, too.

Chapter Twenty Six

At precisely six o’clock, a light rap sounds on my dorm room door. I briefly glance at Kay, who is curled up in bed on her phone.

“Well, it isn’t for me,” she grumbles. Her on-off girlfriend invited someone else to the ball, prior to officially calling it quits with Kay via text message. She’s been in moping mode all week, and watching me twirl around in my ball gown hasn’t helped.

Checking my face and teeth one last time in the small desk mirror, I brush down the navy satin skirts. My phone is tucked into an invisible pocket, beside the thigh-high slit. Along with a low dip between my cleavage, the bust held in place by thin spaghetti straps, I can see why Garrett chose this dress before I’d even tried it on. Meg wouldn’t have believed I was going out with so much skin on show, which is why I sent her a dozen photos before pulling on the satin shawl.

My heels click across the room and I open the door. Axel is leaning against the hallway wall, standing promptly as he looks me over. His hazel eyes sparkle, his features slack. I hide my blush by tucking the free blonde tendril from my updo behind my ear. He steps forward and untucks it again.

“You’re stunning,” Axel breathes. So is he. Garrett mentioned he’d be in jeans, but Axel’s swagger is evident in his styling. The denim is dark, the fit tight and akin to slacks. His t-shirt is also fitted and mostly hidden beneath a blazer. His brown belt matches his dress shoes.

“You don’t fix up too badly yourself,” I smile back. From behind his back, Axel produces a corsage. A singular rose, the petals a flurry of rainbow colors.

“I figured you didn’t have an official prom.” My smile falls away as Axel eases the band around my wrist. Amongst the flirtatious fun, I hadn’t expected such a considerate thought. My eyes float over Axel’s shoulder, watching others being accompanied from their rooms to the stairwell. No Garrett in sight. My chest tightens, a feeling I can’t describe bubbling beneath the surface. I push it aside and find my smile once more. I vowed to myself to enjoy this night. Like Axel has already pointed out, putting myself out in the real world isn’t a regular occurrence.

Axel offers his arm, guiding me from the dorm block to the parking lot. A limousine awaits. I tip my head to the chauffeur who opens the rear door, revealing the rest of the Shadowed Souls. Garrett looks at me over the rim of a glass, his smirk blocked from view. As I take a seat, the slit in my dress opens wide. Huxley’s eyes drop immediately while Dax acts the gentleman and looks away. Across the far end of the seats, with a bottle of whiskey in hand and a girl in his lap, is Wyatt. He’s the only one who seems to have brought a date.

“You guys seriously hired a limo for a four-minute drive?” I scoff. “Why am I even surprised?” Axel slides into my side, winding his arm around my waist and tugging me close. Apparently, being his date tonight means he gets handling rights over me. Garrett downs his drink, a brightly colored cocktail of some kind, and raises a brow.

“Economy needs rich fuckers like us to do reckless things,” he half shrugs. Axel leans into my ear.

“What he means is - we paid the chauffeur for the entire night. After this four-minute drive, he’s grabbing takeout and going home to his family. We had a nice chat while waiting for you to get ready.” I blink a few times, trying to concentrate while Axel’s thumb brushes my cheek. Everywhere he touches me, I’m alive. It’s the first time his fingers have graced my skin since creaming my tattoo. At odds with this recent behavior, he’s no longer holding back. The drive is quick and before I know it, we’re stepping into the main hall.

Instantly, the rich, earthy scent of fallen leaves and cinnamon strikes. Garlands of vibrant orange, red, and yellow leaves are strung along the walls, interspersed with twinkling fairy lights. The ceiling is draped with gauzy fabrics in shades of hazel and gold, creating a canopy that bathes the room in a warm, golden glow. My arm is in Axel’s as we pass through the curtained archway, a slow smile spreading across my face. It’s busy, but for once, I couldn’t care less.

We stand in line for a photo op, the red carpet trickled with more leaves and pumpkins. I stand in the center of a roped area, a camera facing the autumnal backdrop. Pausing, I glance back at the four guys giving me their thumbs up. Wyatt decided not to enter with us and I’m not mad about it. I chew on my bottom lip when the assistant calls for my smile, my hands wringing the strap of my clutch bag. I’ve never really been the ‘look at me’ type, and I’m certainly not comfortable alone in the spotlight, but I give it my best shot for the flurry of flashes which follow.

Suddenly, a rush of bodies slam into me from all sides. Hands claim every inch of my waist and hips, the guys grinning goofily. Someone tickles my ribs and someone else grabs my ass. My own laughter is caught on camera several times over. Two photo strips are handed over, one going into my bag and the other in Huxley’s pocket. We move on, letting the rest of those queuing have their turn.

The main feature in the center of the hall is a large dance floor, its polished wood reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror. At one end, a stage is set up for the band, adding a lively backdrop to the chatter and laughter filtering throughout. Around the dance floor, tables are set with burgundy tablecloths, littered with gold flakes and adorned with centerpieces of carved pumpkins. Across the far side, a long buffet is announced as open.

“Food!” shouts Garrett. He barrels through a nearby crowd, causing drinks to spill. Axel chuckles, his mouth dropping to my ear.

“He literally just ate before we left.”

“I do like a buffet,” I shrug, tugging him in the same direction. We graciously sidestep around the group now wearing their apple cider and I offer a pack of tissues from my clutch. They decline.

Dax and Huxley hang back to grab a table, although I’ve lost sight of them amongst the women who took their cue to shoot their shot. I have no right to be jealous. We all deserve to enjoy the evening, but I opt to not look back and regularly assess their choices in women either.

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