Chapter 1
DAISY
“I’m late,” Dahlia calls as she hurries down the stairs with an apple in one hand and her golf bag slung over her shoulder.
She puts the apple in her mouth to wave and then flings open the door.
A breeze flows through the living room as she slams the door behind her and jogs across the street, joining more student athletes on their way to practice.
Our house is only a few blocks from campus, nestled between dorms on the southside and Ray Fieldhouse and the rest of the athletic facilities.
Weekday afternoons are the best for people watching.
“I haven’t seen any baseball players in their cute pants,” Violet says, looking over my shoulder.
“They have a day off. I heard a guy in class talking about it.” Jane flips through a Cosmopolitan magazine on the couch. She looks up from the page and pulls back the curtain giving us a better view.
Basketball players jog the street, football players are heading in for weight training in cut-off T-shirts, and if I squint, I can just make out the empty baseball diamond in the distance.
The hockey arena is two blocks west and out of view, but I like to picture Liam at practice in all that padding, flashing that big, bright smile underneath his helmet.
The prick of a needle on my shoulder makes me jump.
“Hold still. I’m almost done.” Only Violet could sound annoyed and sympathetic at the same time.
As instructed, I stand perfectly still while she uses me as a model for her latest creation.
The material falls to the floor with a small train.
The bodice is a black corset that squeezes my ribs and pushes up my small boobs to an impressive, gravity-defying height.
Soft, see-through lace covers my shoulders and arms, and clasps at my neck with a vintage brooch.
The cropped blouse does nothing to cover my cleavage, but I’m certain that’s the point.
The dress is Victorian Gothic with a sexy edge. Very Violet. She’s studying fashion design, and her affinity for all things historical comes through loud and clear with everything she creates.
Violet places a pair of stilettos in front of me and then sits to do the bottom hem.
“Wouldn’t it be better if you pinned it with me flat footed? That way you’ll be able to wear two or three-inch heels, no problem.” My cousin is a good two inches shorter than me and has a propensity for heels, whereas I prefer to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground.
She shakes her head, black hair swishing around her shoulders with the small movement. I step awkwardly into Violet’s hot pink stilettos. Her feet are a half-size smaller and pinch my toes. It’s a good thing the only thing I need to do in these is stand.
Violet removes a pin from the cushion around her wrist and secures the fabric at the top of my foot.
I force myself not to fidget. We’ve been at this for the better part of an hour, and Violet isn’t much company as she works.
She is deep in concentration, and any words she speaks as she makes her way around me, pinning the material in place, are to instruct me or comment on the people outside.
And Jane spends her entire break between classes reading through the dozen of magazines she subscribes to—physical and digital.
“Okay.” Violet stands and does another circle around me. “What do you think?”
“It’s gorgeous, as always. What’s it for?” I step out of the heels, thankful to feel my toes again.
When Violet grins, her entire face lights up with excitement. “It’s for the Wallflower Ball in January.”
My shock of her creating another dress for the event (this would be number three she’s designed and made for the ball) is temporarily blinded by her nickname for the masquerade party she’s putting together. “Can we stop calling it that?”
In a flash, her smile falls into an annoyed frown. “Wallflowers are awesome. Own it.”
Oh, I’m owning it. Not like I have a choice.
That’s one of many differences between Violet and me.
She’s friendly and outgoing. People are always quick to like her.
She did the dance team in high school and, she’d kill me for telling anyone, was even the homecoming queen.
Two months into our freshman year at Valley, she just gave it all up and decided she was over partying and hanging with vapid, self-loathing assholes.
Those are definitely words straight from her mouth.
“What’s wrong with the last two you made for the ball?” I smooth my hand down the lace skirt. I can’t get over how soft it feels.
“Nothing. This one is for you.” Her smile is locked back in place. She pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of me, all while I still process her words.
“I can’t wear this.”
“You can.” She moves to stand beside me and holds out the screen of her phone to show me the photo she took. “It’s perfect.”
The dress is perfect. I hardly recognize myself from the neck down. I’m far more comfortable in my own clothes, not because I don’t love this but because it’s far too beautiful for me.
I glance at my stunning cousin. Our fathers are brothers, but our personalities are as different as the way we look.
My hair is the color of wet sand, and my blue eyes are nothing special.
I’m average height and just… well, average.
Violet, on the other hand, inherited her mother’s Korean genes.
Her long hair is a soft black, and her eyes are a dark brown that lighten when she laughs.
I love my cousin, but she doesn’t always understand what it’s like to be the shy, quiet girl.
“Do you not like it?” Uncertainty tugs her brows down as she searches my face. Sometimes I forget that Violet has insecurities. It doesn’t make any sense to me because she’s so good at everything she does.
“Are you kidding me? I feel like a harlot.”
She still stares at me with big, unsure eyes.
“That was a compliment. I’ve never felt more beautiful, Vi. I’m just not sure it’s me.”
“You could be a harlot. You’d just have to speak to your crushes instead of watching them from the tree house.” This from Jane, who puts the magazine down and comes to stand in front of me. “You look beautiful, Daisy.”
I appreciate their confidence in me, however unfounded.
I have a pretty good idea of how it’d go if I actually spoke to Liam, and it doesn’t end up with me wearing this dress on a date where he pulls me into the corner and ravishes me because he just can’t wait another minute to have me. The dress is good. It isn’t that good.
Violet’s lips pull up at the corners, and she squeezes me from the side.
“It’s going to be great this year.” She moves to unzip me.
“Did I tell you that I was able to book the big ballroom in the Moreno building? And Jane’s parents donated tablecloths and these gorgeous candle centerpieces.
” She looks at our roommate. “Thanks again for that.”
“No problem.” Jane sits back on the couch and picks up her magazine.
“Wow. That’s quite a step up from last year’s little shindig in the dorm lounge.” We had flat soda in Solo cups, and the lighting was fluorescent.
Violet first had the idea for a masquerade ball when we were living in the dorms last year.
Her roommate was off to some sorority formal, and we were both pining over how there weren’t big social events for people like us who didn’t rush Greek life or date guys popular enough to be invited to them. So, we organized one, or Violet did.
“Yes, it’s gotten a little out of hand.” She shrugs through an excited smile that tells me it’s going to be way, way over the top.
“How can I help?” I ask.
“Could you take care of the flowers? The florist up the street already has us on her schedule, but I need to give her specifics.”
“Flowers?”
“Yes, flowers.” She cuts me a look. “It’s the Wallflower Ball.”
A groan slips past my lips. “You really have to stop calling it that.”
“I’ll text you all the details. Are you sure you can do it? The whole concept revolves around the flowers. They’re doing an arch and…” She trails off when it’s clear I’m only half-listening. “Don’t forget.”
“I will go this week.”
“Thank you.”
She takes the dress from me, and I pull on my far-less-stylish one and boots.
“I’m off to class.” My pulse jumps because I’m going to see Liam in fifteen minutes.
My roommates grin. They know how much I look forward to this class twice a week.
“Say hi to Liam for us,” Jane teases.
Not likely.