CHAPTER 1 #4
I played it all through in my head. It’d be too obvious to walk in and straight up to Carter Pembleton, wouldn’t it?
I couldn’t seem like every other girl who’d been vying for his attention.
No, I needed a way that was subtle, more like fate than anything else.
I bit down on my lower lip, envisioning it, playing out the scenarios, and seeing which one worked best.
“I’ll go in and get a drink,” I told Daisy, forming the plan. “You’ll point out which one Carter is. I’ll make my rounds before we go on stage, run into him, nearly spill on him—”
“And use that as your way to introduce yourself,” Daisy finished for me, nodding eagerly. “That’s perfect.”
Jamie frowned. “Oh, sure, but when Lydia did it, it was dumb?”
“She was trying to embarrass someone else,” I told him. “The only person I would be embarrassing is myself. Because I’ll almost spill on him, and I will spill on myself.”
That was the difference. Lydia would never embarrass herself for the bigger picture of things. I looked down at my green dress, at the way it flowed over my hips, dipped down near my chest. It was expensive. I could see it play out in my head, finding no flaw.
Unless, of course, Carter was an absolute jerk of a human. Possible. Around here, likely. But I could always twist that in my favor once his father found out his son was rude to David Brighton’s daughter.
Moves and countermoves.
“What about Mr. ASMR?” Daisy asked. “If we see someone random coming up to you, should we intercept? Who’s more important here?”
Mr. ASMR was another variable. I’d been planning on quickly saying hello to him before attempting to knock the socks off Dr. Pembleton, but we’d run late, and now Carter had entered the equation.
Too many men to juggle. “Intercept anyone unfamiliar,” I decided.
“I’ll send him a DM later that I was too busy to talk. ”
It was for the best. I could meet him another time. Tonight was too important.
“He won’t be disappointed?” Daisy asked.
While I was interested to meet Mr. ASMR, I wasn’t excited about it on a romantic level. Nothing about our DM conversations seemed anything beyond platonic either. In fact, if we both weren’t attending this event, I doubted we’d ever have planned to meet in person. “It’ll be fine.”
Our heels clicked on the marble floors, with Jamie’s softer footsteps trailing behind us.
T-H-R-I-V-E. I would. P-E-R-F-E-C-T. I was.
With my best friend on my arm and my brother behind me, it was easy to forget the uneasy feelings; to forget the invisible baggage that hung from my shoulders.
Tonight was Phase One in my beautiful future, and I’d be able to check it off.
The double doors that led into the ballroom were swung wide as we turned down the hallway, and the closer we got, the louder the string music became.
I pictured what I looked like, running over the details, even down to the eyeshadow.
I hadn’t rubbed my eye on the car ride over, had I?
I looked down at my hands. Even though the skin was clean, I wasn’t sure.
“Wait.” I pulled Daisy to a sharp stop. “I’m—I’m going to go check my makeup one last time.”
“It looks fine,” Jamie muttered.
“It looks great.” Daisy patted my hand, dropping her arm. “But go ahead if you need to check. Jamie and I will scout around and get an eye on Carter.”
Jamie grumbled again as Daisy hooked her arm through his, though awkwardly, given their height difference. He let her pull him away, though, and into the ballroom.
I hooked a left down the hallway to where the bathrooms were and ducked inside, pleased no one else was crowding around the sinks.
My lipstick had faded a bit on the car ride over, so I quickly pulled the tube from my clutch and reapplied.
I frantically combed my fingers through my hair, taming the baby hairs out of place. My eyeshadow hadn’t smudged.
“P-E-R-F-E-C-T,” I spelled, the letters swimming around me.
I’d expertly capture Carter Pembleton’s attention.
He’d introduce me to his father.
His father would mentally put me down on his list. David Brighton’s daughter, he’d think with a nod of approval. She’s going places, just like her father. I’ll be sure of it.
P-E-R-F-E-C-T.
And again, like a magic spell, my nerves calmed.
Feeling more assured, I left the bathroom. The music playing swelled in the ballroom as I neared, creating the perfect grand entrance. Drawing in a deep breath, I stepped forward and into the limelight alone.
And straight into a black blur.
The person had been on their way out of the ballroom, and quickly, as if their feet couldn’t carry them fast enough.
We collided into each other, my chest crushing into theirs, my heels stuttering as I tried to find balance.
Their hand braced just above my elbow, steadying me as their other hand narrowly drew their drink back from dumping down the front of my dress.
In the split second as the world still spun, I knew it was a man I ran into from the dark suit jacket my fingers instinctively curled into paired with the woody, sharp scent of his cologne.
Did Daisy direct Carter Pembleton out to me? I wondered in that split second. Is this some sort of divine intervention?
I drew in a breath to apologize, except when I looked up, the words died on my lips.
The dread I’d felt when Mom told me Dad wasn’t coming was nothing compared to the pure horror that swallowed me now. A check in the world’s longest-running chess game, and my moves were limited.
No, nonexistent. I was done for.
C-H-E-C-K-M-A-T-E.
It was not Carter Pembleton, someone I never would’ve recognized.
There were far more differences than similarities, but I recognized this boy in an instant.
Even if it’d been forty years instead of four, I think I’d always recognize him in an instant.
B-E-C-K-H-A-M J-E-N-N-I-N-G-S.
“I’m sorry, sorry,” Beck said in a halting voice.
His deep green eyes focused down at me as if he were staring straight into my soul.
A lock of his platinum blond hair fell over his forehead, and even from here, I could see the darkness of his roots peeking through the bleach.
The green was the same. The blond was new.
“I didn’t even see you. I—I should’ve looked. ”
Time held perfectly still for exactly one second. Beck looked at me neutrally, perhaps even a little embarrassed, but completely unknowing. We’d both changed drastically in four years, it seemed.
And then Beck’s gaze dipped to my throat, to the necklace that hung around my neck. The same necklace he’d put on me four years ago.
The second the recognition hit, every ounce of pleasantness evaporated. The light in Beck’s eyes didn’t so much dull as it flicked out completely, like a tidal wave slammed into him and cut the electricity.
Before it vanished completely, plunging him into darkness, I caught it: a horror of his own.
I suddenly thought of the blood draining from Ms. Jennings’s face when she’d looked at my necklace. A-Alice, she’d begun. I forgot to tell you—
I could finish the sentence for her now. I forgot to tell you—my nephew is back.
“Eleanor Brighton,” Beck breathed, my name sounding like a delicate curse on his lips. The stark emotion that’d flickered in his gaze a moment ago was gone now, replaced with something far more relaxed. “I almost didn’t recognize you. I’d hoped you’d be uglier.”
Breathing had become impossible, because even though the horror had yet to fade, something else swept in. My feeling wasn’t a tidal wave so much as a tsunami, drenching me where I stood, sweeping me off my feet. N-O N-O, the letters were as loud as exclamation points in my brain. N-O-T H-I-M.
But then, with my fingers still locked in his shirt, different letters spelled out in a forbidden font, F-I-N-A-L-L-Y.
My voice came out barely above a whisper. “Are—are you Mr. ASMR?”
For a heartbeat, I let myself feel the shameful relief. If Beck was Mr. ASMR, it meant he’d known who I was when I’d first messaged him back in April, and he’d still chosen to reply. He hadn’t blocked me immediately. He’d responded, messaged me back and forth for weeks, and came here.
It meant maybe, just maybe, he’d missed me as much as I’d missed him.
But then the heartbeat passed, and the shame swallowed the relief whole. Beck’s hand was still on my arm, no longer steadying me, but trapping me in place.
“Mr. ASMR.” A small, mocking smirk tugged at his lips, and his expression filled with a dark sort of amusement.
Mocking. Cruel. “You know, I don’t know what I thought you’d say to me after everything,” he mused, voice as low as if telling me a secret.
He brought his drink to the front of his chest, between us, tilting it, nearly letting the contents dribble over.
The green in his eyes flickered, debating. “But it wasn’t that.”
And then he dumped his cup out on our feet.