Chapter 6 Vane
VANE
Iadjust my tie for the fifth time, staring at the Morgan family's front door like it's the entrance to a prison. My heart hammers against my ribs, a foreign sensation crawling through my veins—nervousness. Vane Blackwood doesn't get nervous, not during tests, not in fights, not ever.
But meeting Lia's parents? Different story.
Authority figures and I don't mix well. Teachers, principals, cops, social workers—they see a problem, not a person. And fathers are the worst. The What are your intentions with my daughter bullshit usually makes me want to either smirk or throw a punch.
I take a deep breath and ring the doorbell before I can talk myself out of it.
The door swings open, and a woman with Lia's eyes smiles at me. “You must be Vane! Come in, come in.”
I step inside, shoulders tense, scanning for threats out of habit.
“Honey, your date is here!” she calls up the stairs before turning back to me. “I'm Diana, Lia's mom. She's just finishing getting ready.”
A tall man appears from what looks like a living room, and I brace myself. His hand extends toward me, and I hesitate before shaking it.
“Vane, nice to meet you. I'm Robert,” Lia's father says with a firm but friendly grip. No glaring, no intimidation tactics. Just a normal handshake.
I clear my throat. “Nice to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan.”
“Please, call us Robert and Diana,” her mother says, waving away the formality. “We've heard so little about you, actually. Lia keeps her school life pretty private.”
That explains the warm welcome. If they knew half the shit that's gone down between us, I'd be getting the shotgun treatment instead of smiles.
“Can I get you something to drink while you wait? Water? Soda?” Diana asks.
“Water would be great, thanks,” I say, surprised by their hospitality.
Robert gestures toward the living room. “Come have a seat. I understand you're in AP Chemistry with Lia?”
I follow him, taking in the family photos lining the hallway. Lia at various ages, always smiling that smile that drives me crazy.
“Yes, sir. We're lab partners.”
“That's wonderful. Lia's always been passionate about science, but the arts are where her heart lies.”
The conversation flows more easily than I expected. No interrogation about my intentions, no subtle threats. Just normal questions about school and future plans.
Diana returns with water. “Your corsage for Lia is beautiful,” she comments, nodding to the clear box in my hand.
“Thanks. The florist helped me pick something that would match her dress.”
“Very thoughtful,” she says with a genuine smile.
I relax slightly, sinking into their comfortable couch. These people are nothing like what I expected. They're... kind. Normal.
My conversation with Lia's parents is cut short by a soft footfall on the stairs. I turn, and the glass of water nearly slips from my hand.
Holy fuck.
Lia descends the staircase in a dark green dress that hugs every curve before flaring at her knees.
The color makes her amber eyes shine like gold in firelight.
Her black hair cascades over one shoulder in loose waves, and she's wearing makeup that enhances rather than masks her features—subtle except for those lips, painted a deep red that makes my mouth go dry.
“You look...” I start, but words fail me. I've seen Lia angry, flustered, focused over a lab experiment, even coming apart on my screen—but I've never seen her like this. Radiant.
She reaches the bottom step, a shy smile playing at the corner of her mouth. “You clean up nice, too, Blackwood.”
I'm wearing a simple black suit with a green tie that matches her dress. I set down my water and approach her, suddenly aware of her parents watching us.
“This is for you,” I say, opening the clear box containing a corsage of white roses with dark green ribbons. My hands are steady as I slip it onto her wrist, but my pulse isn't. Her skin is warm beneath my fingers.
“It's beautiful,” she whispers, and for a moment, it's just us.
Diana breaks the spell. “Let me get a picture of you two!”
We pose for what feels like a dozen photos before I finally hook Lia's arm through mine. “Ready?” I ask.
“Yes, I'm ready,” she replies, her voice carrying a hint of something I can't quite place—anticipation, maybe. Or apprehension.
“Have a wonderful time,” Robert calls as we head toward the door.
“Don't worry about getting home too late,” Diana adds with a smile.
In my car, silence settles between us like a physical presence. I start the engine, stealing glances at her profile as I pull away from the curb. The tension is so thick that it could be cut.
Finally, at a red light, I turn to her. “You look drop-dead gorgeous, Lia. I mean it.”
“Thanks,” she says softly, smoothing her dress over her thighs. No sarcastic comeback, no eye roll. Just a simple acceptance that throws me more than any sharp retort could have.
The light turns green, and I focus on driving, sneaking glances at her profile when I can. The silence between us isn't exactly comfortable, but it's not hostile either. It's charged—like the air before a storm.
When we pull into the school parking lot, the bass from inside thumps against the windows of my car. Clusters of students in formal wear mill around the entrance, laughing and taking photos. I cut the engine and turn to Lia.
“You ready for this?” I ask, watching her fingers fidget with her corsage.
She meets my eyes, a hint of uncertainty flashing across her face. “Are you?”
I reach over and take her hand, rubbing my thumb across her knuckles. “I asked you, remember? I know exactly what I'm doing.”
The tension crackles between us as I step out and walk around to open her door. When she stands, the parking lot lights catch the sparkle in her dress, and I have to force myself not to stare.
I offer my arm. She hesitates for just a second before sliding her hand through it. The warmth of her pressed against my side makes my heart rate spike.
As we approach the entrance, heads start to turn. Whispers break out. A freshman nearly trips over his date's dress when he spots us.
“Is that Lia Morgan with Vane Blackwood?”
“No way...”
“Didn't she hate him?”
“I thought they were going to kill each other in Chemistry last week!”
I lead Lia through the decorated doors into the transformed gym, keeping my hand at the small of her back. The music pounds as conversations falter and eyes swing our way. It's like Moses parting the Red Sea—people actually step back to make room for us.
“Everyone's staring,” Lia murmurs, her lips barely moving.
“Let them,” I say, tightening my grip on her waist. “They're just shocked that the two rivals are walking in together.”
The DJ switches to a slower track, and the lights dim across the dance floor. Perfect timing.
“Dance with me,” I say, not quite a question. I extend my hand to Lia, watching her eyes widen slightly.
She hesitates, glancing toward the edge of the gym. I follow her gaze to where her friends are clustered near the punch bowl—Megan, Zoe, Dani, and James.
Megan catches Lia's eye and breaks into a grin, giving an enthusiastic thumbs up. The others follow suit, even James, though he looks reluctant.
A smile tugs at Lia's lips. “Looks like I have their blessing,” she says, turning back to me.
“Like you needed it,” I reply, still holding my hand out.
“Fine,” she agrees, placing her hand in mine. “One dance, Blackwood.”
I guide her to the center of the floor, aware of the curious stares following us. My hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer than strictly necessary. Her body stiffens before gradually relaxing against me.
“I've never seen you nervous before,” I murmur as we begin to move. “It's cute.”
“I'm not nervous,” she protests, but her fingers tighten on my shoulder. “I'm just... processing the surreality of dancing with my nemesis at prom.”
I laugh. “Nemesis? That's what you call someone you've gotten off with?”
Her cheeks flush beautifully. “Shut up,” she whispers, glancing around to make sure no one heard.
“Make me,” I challenge, pulling her closer until our bodies are pressed together.
She doesn't push away. Instead, her amber eyes lock with mine, a silent battle of wills as we sway to the music. Her dress feels like liquid beneath my palm, and the scent of her perfume—something floral with an edge—fills my senses.
“You're a better dancer than I expected,” she admits after a moment.
“I'm full of surprises.”
The song ends, and the next one is faster, but I keep her close, unwilling to break this moment. When her hips start moving against mine to the rhythm, it takes everything in me not to drag her out of here right now.
“Having fun yet?” I ask.
She smiles—not her usual guarded smile, but a real smile. “Surprisingly, yes.”
We dance through three more songs, her body relaxing more with each one. When she laughs at something I say, throwing her head back and exposing the delicate line of her throat, I have to clench my jaw to keep from kissing her right there on the dance floor.
Later, we join her friends at their table. Even they appear to be warming up to me, though James still watches me like I might steal his wallet. Smart kid.
“Want something to drink?” I ask Lia, needing a moment to collect myself.
“Yes, please,” she says, squeezing my hand gently.
At the punch table, I take a deep breath. My mind keeps jumping ahead to after this dance is over, to being alone with her.
I want to be the first. The thought of taking her virginity, of being the only one who's ever had her, sends a rush of heat through my body. I want to mark her as mine in every possible way.
When I return with our drinks, she's laughing with Megan about something. Her eyes find mine as I approach, and the smile she gives me is like a punch to the gut. Mine. She should be mine.
I hand her the cup, our fingers brushing. “Wanna get out of here after this?” I ask, keeping my voice low.
“To go where?” She asks, but her eyes say she already knows.
“Anywhere. Everywhere.” I move closer, my lips nearly touching her ear. “I just want you all to myself.”
I can see the flutter of her pulse jumping at her throat as she considers. All night I've been imagining peeling that dress off her body, laying her down, being the first to claim her.
She takes a sip of her punch, eyes never leaving mine over the rim of the plastic cup. I expect resistance, a challenge, maybe even an outright no. That's our dynamic—push and pull, back and forth.
Instead, she sets down her cup and says, “Okay.”
That single word takes me by surprise. I actually blink, wondering if I heard her right.
“Okay?” I repeat.
“Yeah.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and that flush I love spreads across her cheeks. “Let's get out of here.”
My heart rate kicks up another notch, blood rushing south so fast I'm dizzy with it. I wasn't prepared for her to agree so easily. I figured I'd need to convince her, to wear down her defenses with more dancing, more touches, more whispered promises.
“Now?” I ask, just to be sure.
She laughs softly. “Before I change my mind, Blackwood.”
I don't need to be told twice. I take her hand, interlacing our fingers. The warmth of her palm against mine feels different now—a promise instead of a challenge.
“Let me just tell Megan we're leaving,” she says.
I nod, watching as she leans over to her friend. Megan's eyebrows shoot up, and she gives Lia a look that's half concern, half excitement. Lia says something that makes Megan laugh, then glances at me with renewed interest.
When Lia returns to my side, I slip my arm around her waist. “Ready?”
“Ready,” she confirms, and there's something in her voice—a certainty that matches the heat in her eyes.
As we walk toward the exit, I can't stop thinking about what's about to happen. Tonight is the night. After all the tension, the fighting, the virtual teasing—I'm finally going to have her. Not through a screen, not in my imagination. For real.
I'm going to be her first. I'm going to claim every inch of her, make her mine in a way no one else ever has.