Page 36 of Creeping Lily
I’m still not sure how Bethany convinced me to go out for her birthday. On any other day, the answer would’ve been a hard no. My idea of a perfect night is curling up in bed with a good book, not squeezing into a crowded club where the music rattles your bones. But it’s her birthday, and saying yes feels like the least I can do.
Bethany doesn’t just pick my outfit—sheengineersit. Her closet is like stepping into a boutique, and she chooses a black dress that should probably come with a warning label. The fabric clings and skims in all the right places, shimmering just enough to make my skin glow, hugging the curve of my waist before sliding over my hips. It’s fitted without being suffocating, a whisper of silk that feels foreign against my skin.
“Girl, you’re smoking hot tonight,” Bethany drawls as she leans in, blending smoky shadow over my eyes. “See? When you make an effort, youslay.”
“Thanks… I think,” I mumble, unsure whether it’s a compliment or a warning.
She taps the corner of my mouth, and I part my lips so she can sweep on a layer of gloss. The mirror shows someone Ibarely recognize—nineteen years old, polished, camera-ready. I look beautiful. I also feel… fake. This isn’t me. But tonight isn’t about me—it’s about making Bethany happy.
When Justin and Trick pull up, their car is the first in a convoy. The moment we step out of the dorm, whistles and catcalls trail us like shadows. My skin prickles under the attention, and I wish I could disappear.
Justin leans against the driver’s side door like he’s posing for a magazine cover—black dress pants, a blue shirt that makes his green eyes impossible to ignore, and hair swept to the side in lazy waves. The James Dean energy is unfair, and my stupid crush on him doesn’t need any more fuel.
He lets out a low whistle as we approach, pushing off the car to scoop me up in a hug that lifts my feet off the ground.
“You’re looking damn fine, Lily,” he says, voice warm with mischief. “Gonna have to keep my eye on you tonight.”
By the time he sets me down and winks, Trick has emerged from the passenger side. His head pops over the roof of the car, his expression frozen—like he wasn’t expecting me to look like this. My stomach tightens, the memory of last week’s walk to my dorm flashing uninvited into my mind: the sudden press of his hand against my arm, the way he leaned in before I could step away, his mouth on mine. It had been quick, but not quick enough for me to miss the hope in his eyes afterward. I’d laughed it off at the time, desperate to make it seem like nothing, but ever since then I’ve been avoiding him.
I give him a quick, polite wave and slide into the back seat beside Bethany. Trick climbs in and immediately twists around to face me, his smile slow and deliberate.
“You look beautiful, Lily. Real beautiful.”
The way he says it makes my skin prickle. I offer him the tightest smile I can manage, then shift my gaze to the window, hoping he’ll take the hint. He doesn’t. His eyes stay locked onme, studying me like he’s trying to read something between the lines.
Bethany catches my discomfort and smirks. I know that look—her “told you so” face. She warned me Trick wasn’t going to give up easily. I pinch her arm.
“Oww! What was that for?” she hisses, glaring at me.
“You have to stop this madness,” I whisper against her ear. “I’m not interested in Trick.”
Her smile curls. “Then whoareyou interested in, Lily?”
My jaw tightens. That’s the last question I want to answer—not here, not now, and definitely not with Trick watching me in the rearview mirror like he’s still replaying that kiss in his head.
Bethany isa walking spotlight in her short green dress, the kind of green that makes her blonde hair look like molten gold and her eyes blaze even brighter. Heads turn as she crosses the dance floor, not just because of the way the hem swishes against her thighs, but because she carries herself like she owns the room. She flicks away men she isn’t interested in with a lift of her chin or a flick of her hand, but dances freely with anyone she deems worth her time. Bethany is here to have fun, and she doesn’t apologize for it. We’re as different as two people can be—and somehow, that’s why we work.
“I’m glad she got you for a roommate,” Justin says from across the table. His drink is a gin and tonic, ice clinking softly as he swirls it. My cherry Coke sits in front of me, the straw bobbing. I haven’t touched alcohol in years—not since I saw firsthand the kind of chaos it can unleash on a person’s judgment.
“I’m lucky to have her,” I admit.
He shakes his head, leaning back in our booth on the mezzanine.From up here, we can see the bodies swaying below, lost in the pulse of the music.
“She’s better with you in her life, Lily. Grounded. Centered. Not as selfish as she used to be.”
“I can’t take the credit for that,” I say, eyes dropping to my glass. I spin it slowly, watching the soda swirl, trying not to get caught in the hypnotic pull of Justin’s gaze. His green eyes are impossible to forget—they glint like there’s an entire world hiding behind them.
“You’ve played a bigger role than you think,” he says quietly. “You’ll never really know.”
The music is too loud, the drinks too warm, and yet it feels like there’s a bubble around our table, keeping the chaos at bay. We’ve already sent away would-be dance partners more than once. Neither of us came here to dance.
Justin nods toward the crowd. “Looks like Wendolyn finally reeled him in.”
I follow his gaze to where Trick is dancing stiffly with her. His expression is pure misery, even as she beams up at him, guiding his hands to her waist.
“He looks constipated,” I murmur.
Justin bursts out laughing, the sound rolling out of him in a deep, unrestrained wave. It startles me—not because it’s loud, but because it’s warm. I’ve never heard him laugh like that, and for a second I’m proud of myself for pulling it out of him.
