26. Rune
Chapter 26
Rune
“S o you seriously aren’t going to invite Finn down for the big housewarming party?”
I wince at the accusation in my sister’s voice. I wish she’d stop talking about Finn. It’s hard enough pretending that I’m okay with how things are turning out without having to constantly speak the lie out loud.
I force a smile. “I’m going to assume that you forgot about the fact that this is New Year’s Eve and that I’m currently getting dressed up for the fantasy book ball of my dreams tonight. Bringing Finn up is just tasteless.”
“You are literally dressing up as the main character in his novel,” Jules points out.
I stare at my reflection in the full length mirror that we’ve propped up in the living room. Most cosplays of Macie, the main character from Crimson and Roses , tend to focus on the extravagant, revealing dresses that she’s described as wearing when she appears at royal court. I decided to take an alternate approach. I created my own interpretation of an outfit that she wears during a midnight rendezvous with her love interest. One of those classic enemies-to-lovers moments.
Granted, in the books, it simply says: She was dressed all in black, with a cloak of shadows.
So I took some artistic liberties.
I’m wearing a tight, low-cut sleeveless wrap that falls into a series of tattered ruffles down to my knees. Underneath is a sheer black chiffon skirt that shows off both my legs and my cool leather medieval-style slippers. They aren't terribly sexy, per se, but they’re wildly comfortable. For a cloak, I found some shimmery transparent fabric that sometimes looks black and sometimes silver, depending on the lighting.
And, because she’s a good big sister, Jules spent a solid forty minutes working on my makeup to give me smokey eyes and sensual red lips.
I look fabulous. I wish I could dress like this every day.
True to her word, Jules is wearing something that borders on classy and downright trashy: a silver dress with sparkles and sequins that reveals all of her back, framing the crescent moon and stars tattoo along her spine that she got to celebrate her high school graduation. Mom and Dad were pissed when they saw that tattoo.
“I don't understand how you get your boobs that high without a bra,” Danielle says, impressed.
“It's amazing what can be done with silicone these days.” Jules pats her perfectly rounded cleavage with a satisfied smile.
Together, we're a matched set. I'm the night sky and she's pure starlight.
“You’re going to Brian’s tonight?” I confirm with Danielle. I do feel a little bad that she’s not coming. She seemed to like the Renaissance Festival that I dragged her to last year.
“Yeah. This place is creepy without our stuff.”
She's not wrong. After a solid week of packing and moving our personal items over to Brian's house, the only things left in the apartment are some clothes and the beds. Even the living room furniture and kitchen set sold yesterday.
It’s a little sad, but far less sad than I thought it would be. It definitely helps that Brian’s place is actually pretty cool. The basement is a walkout, so I even have my own door. It’s clean, private, and relatively upscale. A great way to start the next phase of my single, jobless life. Which I've decided I'm very excited for, by the way. I hardly even think about Finn anymore. I definitely don't check my phone every hour or two, agonizing over a text that never comes.
“Does it feel weird? Dressing up like one of his characters?” Danielle asks.
“I’ve just gone back to pretending that he is a she ,” I joke. It's only half a lie. I do try to forget that I’m wildly, sexually attracted to the author. After so many years of thinking of R.E. Andersson as my girl bestie, you'd think it would be easy. The reality is that I can't stand to look at my autographed book anymore. The one he touched. The one I spent over a hundred dollars on. I packed it away in a box along with the other paperbacks from his series. I’m sure I’ll eventually put them out on my bookshelves. Or maybe not. I'll figure it out. After I figure out if we are going anywhere, that is. These past couple weeks back in Chicago have felt like some of the longest of my life.
But how do I have that conversation when I’m too embarrassed to ask him to visit? When I have too much pride to beg him to invite me back to stay with him? When neither of us have brought up the kind of important fact that he’s an internationally best-selling author?
What you do for work doesn’t define who you are, but…it’s still unnerving that I was so obviously oblivious to it—and that he let me make a complete fool of myself, showing him my drawings and telling him my dumbass theories. I try not to think about it too much. I could die from embarrassment.
“Come on, Rune, our ride is outside,” Jules urges, half-dragging me down the stairs as I scramble to double check that I have my wallet and phone.
“Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't.” Danielle laughs at our departing backs, offering her middle finger as a farewell. We return it with gusto.
“I really like that girl,” Jules says.
“I know, right? I think we—what the fuck, Jules.” I stare in complete shock at the vehicle parked in front of our building. I expected a taxi of some sort. Instead, there’s a shiny black limo, with a woman in a suit who opens the door for us to get in.
“Surpriiiiiiiiise.” Jules gives me jazz hands. “We’re riding in style. VIP all the way.”
“I’ve never ridden in a limo before.” My mouth might be stuck open permanently. I try to take in every detail of this moment as I whip out my phone and start snapping pictures of the sleek lines of its exterior. Inside, there are two black silk bags in a basket, with the Faelight Fantasy Ball logo stamped on them in gold ink. They’re filled with little treasures: a woven leather wristband, a granola bar, some chocolates, and two drink tickets.
Not to mention the champagne and charcuterie which comes courtesy of the limo, apparently.
“How much did this cost?” I demand in a whisper, not caring if it’s tacky to ask.
“Not as much as you would think.” Jules looks as excited as I feel. “Just freaking enjoy it.”
It isn’t hard to do what she asks. I feel like royalty.
“I bet you regret not asking your boyfriend now,” Jules says, pouring herself some champagne.
“Hell no,” I say, which is a very obvious lie. I very much regret the fact that I wasn’t ballsy enough to ask Finn to be my date. I’d like a chance to impress him with something classy like a limo and champagne. But I bury that thought deep within me. Tonight I will have no regrets.
None.
* * *
I’ve never been in an actual ballroom before. This particular one is all Grecian pillars, marble stairs, and dark blue tapestries. It’s breathtaking. The room has tall molded ceilings and extravagant chandeliers that reflect in the shiny white marble floor. The floor is already flooded with partygoers dressed in every kind of outfit I could possibly imagine. Even the members of the stringed quartet, perched on a smallish platform, are dressed in black sequined outfits with golden masks.
There’s an energy, an excitement to the room: grown adults indulging in dressing up as fae, vampyr, elves, and yes, I do spy a few hobbits.
“This is incredible,” Jules says, her eyes wide. “Rune, we need to make this a tradition.”
I nod my agreement, my senses fully overwhelmed by the colors, the rich extravagance of it all.
Still buzzed from the champagne, I wade arm-in-arm with Jules through the groups of people, making small conversation and collecting some bookish souvenirs from the tables tucked in a series of alcoves.
It isn’t long before the event formally begins with a cascade of twinkly fairy lights coming to life just as a voice over the loudspeaker introduces the male MC to the ball. He appears, masked, wandering around the ballroom as he acts out the dramatized storyline of a handsome prince who stumbles into faerie and comes upon an elven queen. The queen glides down the grand staircase to meet with him, stars glittering in her silver hair.
Together, they step to the center of the room and lead the way into the first of the night’s dances. It’s amazing and cliché…and I really fucking love it.
It doesn’t take long before more couples join in the dancing, and soon the entire floor is alive with twirling, glittering dresses and laughter.
“That's our cue.” Jules drags me onto the floor. My feet get tangled in my skirt and I stumble into a tall red-headed nymph.
“I'm so sorry!” I say, but she just laughs and blows me a kiss.
I last through several dances—old-fashioned reels intermixed with iconic pop covers—before my breath gives out. I need water, followed by something alcoholic, since my buzz has worn off. Jules shouts something as I walk away, but the words are lost amid music and laughter. I assume she wants me to bring her back a drink. Maybe I will.
As I wait in line, the music shifts from loud and pulsating to sweet and gentle. An old-timey waltz. All the dancers are pairing up and I look around to see if Jules is sitting this one out. I finally spy her on the dance floor, twirling away with some dude wearing large black wings. Good for her, I guess.
I turn back to examine the menu of fantasy-inspired drinks:
Vampyric Tonic — Bloody Mary
Valinorian Sunset — Peach schnapps, vodka, orange juice
Elven Tears — Blue curacao, vodka, lemonade
Woodland Potion — Gin and tonic
Wingspan Vision — Apple whisky sour
I want to try them all. A woman with shimmery green skin and moss woven into her long black braid takes my order.
With two Woodland Potions in my hand, I turn to find my way back to Jules. She’s still in the arms of the dude with wings, looking fairly animated.
Excellent. I guess I’ll just stand here and watch her have fun, since it seems dangerous to traipse the dance floor with two drinks in hand. I down one quickly and start sipping on the other. Jules looks so carefree, wholly in the moment with her head flung back as she laughs at something the bat dude says. I wonder how she manages to live so freely, without bending to the anxiety that haunts my every step.
I wonder if I could learn to be more like her, instead of the mess of a human that I am.
A hand brushes against my arm and I instinctively move to the side, making space for whomever it is in the crowded sidelines. They stop next to me, and I glance over to see a black sleeve with rich gold embroidery trailing from elbow to cuff. Fancy.
“When you said you had a cosplay of Macie, I did not envision this,” a male voice says in my ear.
I stiffen. Despite the music, the hum of voices, I would recognize that voice anywhere. I lift my eyes past the gold embroidery and look straight into the face of Finn, who’s staring back with an enigmatic expression on his face.
He’s dressed up—like actually dressed up in one of the classiest outfits I’ve seen yet this evening.
Gold dust lines his cheekbones; his dark hair is somewhat unruly. He looks like a mix between my favorite Holly Black character and a medieval knight. My knees go a bit weak.
“Cheers to the Faelight Fantasy Ball,” he says, holding out his own drink and tapping it against mine.
“What are you doing here?” I stammer when words finally find me. “Are you—?” I don't know how to finish that. Mad at me? Here with another woman? Ready to tell me all of your secrets?
“I’m participating.” He gestures to his outfit, his expression bemused like he doesn’t quite know how he manages to pull off looking absolutely dashing in literally anything.
“Oh,” I say. Jules is still out dancing, perfectly oblivious to the panic that’s starting to take over. It never once occurred to me that Finn, of all people, would be in attendance at this ball. Even if he’s written at least a third of the characters that attendees are cosplaying tonight.
“Did you have a nice drive?” I ask lamely, when I can think of nothing else to say.
“I flew.”
I nod. Of course he did. Why drive when you have the money to fly? He probably flew first class and everything. I glance up at his face. He looks grave and far too serious. He obviously didn’t expect to see me. Maybe he regrets that I’m here. I’ll just excuse myself, and?—
“Rune, can we talk?” he asks, with a gesture towards the large doors at the entrance to the ballroom.
“Of course.” I try to ignore the shiver that tingles up my spine when his hand settles on the small of my back. He guides me through the throng of revelers, out into the comparative quiet of the hall beyond. We stop near a giant potted fern that may or may not be artificial. I don't know if I'm happy or nervous or terrified, but my hand shakes as I tip my glass again, swallowing the last half of Woodland Potion in one go. Finn notices and his jaw tightens just a bit.
“So, this is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I say brightly.
“I hadn’t initially planned on it, but there was someone I wanted to see.” He stares intently at his drink, giving the glass a little swirl. If I didn't know better, I'd say he looked nervous. My mind sifts frantically through every conversation, but I come up blank.
“Oh yes? Who?” I ask automatically.
A flash of surprise mingled with disbelief flickers across his face. “You, Rune.”
I take another drink. This doesn’t add up. “I didn’t even know I would be here until last week.”
“Let’s call it a lucky guess.”
Obviously it was more than that, but fine. Another secret.
“Why?” The word comes out barely audible.
He reaches for me, then seems to think better of it and lets his hand fall. “I made a mistake. I shouldn't have let you leave the way you did. Not without doing a better job of explaining myself. But I thought maybe you wanted space. Maybe you needed it. I was a little blindsided. I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.” He offers a small, apologetic smile.
“So you’re here to—?” I’m not quite sure how to finish that.
“I’m here to grovel at your feet. To beg your forgiveness. And yes, to explain, if you’d still like to hear what I have to say.”
I might not know where we stand, but I do know that his uncertainty is like a knife to my heart. So despite the fact that I am desperate to hear his explanation, I can admit that he doesn’t owe it to me—certainly not in such a public place when we’re at risk of being overheard by revelers.
“I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it,” I say hurriedly. “You don’t have to tell me. I really don’t need to know.”
Conflict battles across his features at my words. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter. You look like a vision, Rune. It’s nice to see you again. I’ll let you get back to your night with your sister.”
I watch as he takes my hand and presses it to his lips in a gentle kiss. But it’s the sadness, the hurt, in every line of his face when he begins to turn away that cuts me to the core.
The moment he breaks eye contact, I know that I’ve said everything wrong.