Page 73 of The Two of Us

We wait in line to retrieve the wristbands that permit us access to the ballroom. Brandon’s next to me, a pocket mirror in front of his face, examining himself for any last-minute flaws. His reaction to my dress was exactly what I’d hoped for and he barely kept his hands to himself the entire ride over.

The low-cut, slinky black dress is so far removed from what I’d usually choose for myself that I decided to make the rest of my appearance match. The hair that drapes over my shoulder is pin straight, coal liner rims my eyes and my lips are a deadly shade of red. The bottom of the lipstick tube literally said “Dead Red.”

I haven’t heard from Cat since the store incident and anxiety chews away at my stomach. She told me she was going to get a ride with Ambrose and while I want to search for her and apologize again, I don’t want to put a damper on her prom experience.

We reach the front of the line where teachers are cross-checking tickets.

“Name?” Mr. Moinyhan asks.

“Mara Makinen.”

He glances up at me again. “Miss Makinen. I hardly recognized you.”

I grimace. “Thank you?”

He hands me a wristband and crosses my name off the list. Brandon returns to my side, draping his arm over my shoulder. “Ready, milady?”

“Yep.”

As if he knows my history with school dances, Mr. Moinyhan gives me a sympathetic look, twirling a familiar string on his finger. “Good luck in there.”

As soon as we get inside, I’m blown away by the opulence. Our school is by no means made of money, but there’s a rumor going around that a mysterious senior’s father made a generous “donation” for their child’s last prom. Everyone knows the senior is Brandon and “donation” is an understatement.

The red spotlights and velvet furniture give the ballroom a sultry vibe. Real billiard tables are scattered throughout the room and students gather at the tables lining the center, playing rounds of blackjack and craps.

Brandon squeezes my hand and leads us to a small table off to the side to find our dining seat assignments.

“Mara Makinen and Brandon Lang.”

A young girl with glasses scans the roster without saying a word.

Her voice is near silent when she says, “Table twelve.”

We glance at the linen-lined table that’s already occupied. Cat’s shoulders shake with laughter at something Maitland’s saying in her ear and the growing crowd forces us to move in their direction.

We slip into our assigned seats, pulling the attention of everyone else present. Shayla Marks simultaneously watches me and whispers in Jackson Healey’s ear—something that has him biting his lip and I cringe. Directly to their left, Ambrose studies me. His eyes take me in from head to toe and he frowns. Sasha’s glare bounces between me and Brandon, venom infused in her eyes. Cat sits next to me but she’s quiet as Maitland and I exchange polite ‘hellos.’

I’m pretty sure I had a nightmare once that went exactly like this.

I tap Cat’s hand with my finger. “You look amazing.” I smile.

She smiles back but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, Mar. You too.”

She’s forgiven me but she still feels the effects of my words. Cat has a habit of forgiving people before she’s ready to forgive them because her heart is that big. She cares more about making sure you feel forgiven than giving herself the time to process and move on from the pain. What she doesn’t realize is that this feels worse than if she were just to be angry at me outright.

I clear my throat. “Cat, can we talk in private?”

“Mait, grab a bite with me?” she says, taking Maitland’s hand, escaping to the buffet table.

I slump in my chair and begin fumbling with the napkin in my lap.

When Cat returns ten minutes later, I throw myself into the line of fire again. “Hey, Cat?”

“Maitland, do you want to dance?” Maitland looks at me with pure pity in his eyes before nodding to Cat. They leave the table without looking back.

Brandon returns to the table, dropping a bread roll onto my plate.

“Oh. I asked for two,” I say.

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