Chapter 27 Aria
ARIA
The air is cloying and dense, like exhaust tangled in artificial fragrance, burning my eyes and filling my lungs with expensive hairspray. I cough, swatting the fumes away with perfectly French-manicured nails, pretending that the tightness in my chest has anything to do with the spray.
“That should do it,” Clara says as she bustles around me, poising the sleek can just above my head. “Just rake your fingers through them to break the stiffness.”
I do as she says. My curls are gleaming under her vanity lights, lacquered into perfect spirals that looked like they belong to someone with more confidence, the kind of girl who has control over her life. Someone who’s not me.
“Thanks,” I tell her with a soft smile. “It’s perfect.”
She grins at me in the mirror, her eyes dropping to the blush-toned, fitted dress she picked out for me. There’s a quick flash of satisfaction before she wraps another strand of her own hair around the hot iron rod, giddy to start the night.
I can’t be the one to ruin this for her.
Not after everything we’ve been through this year. If she can set all of it aside on my behalf, then the least I can do is offer her the same. Pretend. Even if just for a little while longer.
She leans into the mirror and gives her nose a quick pat with her compact just as her phone pings, cutting through the up-tempo pop music she’d been blasting. Her smile deepens as she glances at the screen.
“It’s Jayce and Gabe,” she bursts out, killing her playlist and stuffing her phone into a gold sequined clutch bag that matches her dress. She spins around, glowing with excitement, warming the room in a way that doesn’t quite reach me, but I play it off well enough.
She doesn’t notice the strain tucked behind my grin, already halfway out the door, calling for me to hurry.
I grab my own matching clutch and follow her outside, nerves writhing in my stomach like maggots in a decomposing body, a sharp contrast to the artificial flush painting my cheeks.
Panic thickens beneath the surface, stretching until we reach the curb where the limo waits, long and dark like a coffin. The door clicks open.
Clara squeals as she gathers the length of her dress higher on her leg and climbs in first. Reluctantly, I follow, my nails digging into the gathered fabric in my fist, heart clenching. It’s just for a couple of hours.
Inside, the limo is dim, the speakers humming with low bass that pulses beneath the leather seats. A strip of LED lights runs along the ceiling, casting a wash of blue, green, and violet across the space. It feels claustrophobic. Too dark. Too cramped. An assault of sound and color.
I blink through the haze, my chest tight, a part of me silently unmoored by the sensory blur.
Gabe whistles from the far end of the seat, his deep brown eyes pinned on Clara, hooded and intent. “Get your sexy ass over here,” he calls, raising his voice over the steady vibration in the bass as he pats the space beside him.
She crouches, stepping over the narrow aisle until she’s at his side. “Where’s my corsage?” she asks, nudging his shoulder with a playful smirk.
“You said you didn’t want one.”
Clara throws herself against his side, giggling, unbothered by the small audience around her as she nestles closer.
She says something I can’t hear, her voice swallowed by the low thrum of the speakers.
Her hand slides across his chest, their bodies fitting closely together. Too intimate to be observing.
Their laughter cuts off abruptly, muffled into a long, open-mouthed kiss that has my skin prickling like a rash I can’t stop. I look away, desperate to escape the creeping discomfort, only to freeze when I catch Jayce watching from across the seat.
His mouth tips up, faint and calculated, like he knows exactly what’s running through my head and relishes the part he’s playing in it.
Dread settles in my chest like a rock.
I take the spot beside him, resigned to the fact that I don’t have another choice in the matter, angling my body just enough to carve out as much distance as I can without drawing attention.
He doesn’t hesitate. Sliding closer, he ignores the invisible boundary and erasing the space in one smooth motion. I flinch when his hand lands on my thigh, his grip firm and unbothered.
“Careful,” he murmurs, his warm breath fanning across my ear, the warning in it stiffening every muscle in my body. “Let’s not ruin the night before it’s even started, yeah?”
I clench my thighs together, an uncomfortable prickling crawling up my skin as I cast a quick glance toward Clara, still oblivious, her lips still smushed into her date’s at the far end of the bench.
Jayce peppers kisses into the crook of my neck, ignoring the quiet sob that slips out of my throat as I try to lean away. He pulls back just far enough to pin me with a sharp, angry stare, the violet LED behind him casting shadows across his face, making him look almost devilish.
“You remember what we talked about, don’t you?” he grits through his teeth, his grip on my thigh tightening.
I nod, chin trembling as he grips it between his fingers and tilts my face back, his expression softening with false tenderness before he leans in to resume his unwanted kisses.
The knot in my throat aches, the sob lodged somewhere low, not that anyone besides him can hear it over the deep, percussive rumble of music filling the limo.
I hate him. I hate this.
I hate myself for letting him do this to me.
The weight in my chest builds the longer it goes, my legs growing stiff from the tension keeping them glued in place as I hold my breath, unsure how he’ll take it. Would it go past just a couple of kisses and unwanted touches? Where does it stop?
Maybe coming here was a mistake.
But what choice did I really have? This is on me. A foolish, clumsy mistake that I can’t take back or erase. I’ll have to endure it.
Heat burns behind my eyes as I blink with care, refusing to break down so easily.
I’ve taken every precaution possible to keep myself out of trouble.
I vowed to always be in control of my life, to never fall victim to abusive men the way my mother had, and yet, here I am, like a puppet on strings, unable to walk away. Exactly like my mother.
The minutes blur before the limo eases to a stop, Jayce leaping forward to pop the door open, finally giving me enough space to breathe. Clara and Gabe step out next before I finally follow, my mind already working out how to keep enough distance between me and Jayce once we’re inside.
Clara shuffles past the guys, putting a much-needed buffer between me and Jayce before slipping her arm through mine.
The evening sun casts a fading glow across the stucco facade of the banquet hall, the last remnants of day stretched thin across the pavement.
By the time we reach the entrance, she’s already snapped several photos of us, taking advantage of the warm light while it lasts.
We head inside just as the color begins to drain from the sky.
Blue and white streamers greet us, draped overhead as we make our way down a side hall toward a check-in table that waits just outside the main room.
A girl I don’t recognize, with chin-length hair and a red halter dress, glances up from behind the booth, her kohl-rimmed eyes looking dull until they float toward Jayce, and she instantly perks up.
“Hey, Jayce,” she says in a sultry voice, dragging her gaze over the crisp lines of his navy suit before landing on his face, twirling a pen between her fingers.
Good grief. It’s like the rest of us don’t even exist.
Part of me hopes he’ll ditch me for her. Or for anyone, really. Please take him, I silently plead, as if thinking it hard enough might somehow make it manifest.
Clara leans in and mutters under her breath, pitching her voice to a sugary whine. “Hey, Jayce, look at me. Pay attention to me. I’m not desperate at all.” She bats her lashes dramatically, topping it with an eye roll.
I can’t help it, she pulls a small laugh out of me, but the conversation between the two stifles when they hear us. The girl drops her smile, crosses off our names, and shifts her focus to the next couple walking in behind us.
“I think she heard you,” I tell Clara as we walk away.
She uses a scarlet nail tip to comb a clump of mascara off her lashes and shrugs. “Good. Someone needed to remind her he’s taken.”
“Don’t worry, babe, you won’t have to fight girls off me,” Gabe says, swooping in behind her and wrapping his arms in front of her as they sway inside the main room. “Everyone knows I only have eyes for you.”
“Gabe, you goofball.” She giggles when he starts nipping her ear, showering her in kisses. “Jayce is helplessly in love with Aria. Don’t listen to him,” she says, casting an apologetic glance my way before turning to Jayce and extending a long accusing finger. “You better be treating her right.”
I want to tell her I couldn’t care less who Jayce has eyes for, but the two of them drift deeper into the sea of students swarming the dance floor, the music pumping loud, puncturing my eardrums with its relentless, pounding beat.
With a heavy heart, I watch my best friend disappear, leaving me alone with a problem I’m not ready to confront. The scent of fresh bread wafts from one of the white-draped tables nearby, staff weaving through the setup, balancing more bread baskets and pitchers of water in hand.
A deep rumble twists my stomach, reminding me that I haven’t eaten much today besides just a few bites of pancakes at brunch with Clara, my nerves clinching in my throat too tight to swallow more.
Maybe I can kill time at one of the tables until another girl inevitably steals his attention.
I don’t understand why he’s so adamant about us attending together after I pushed him away—unless this is about getting back at me.
If he’s trying to torture me, he’s already succeeded. What more does he want?