Chapter Twenty-three
Flora
On the day of the party, I take Lindsey shopping.
I need to get her out of the house and glam her up, so we make a pit stop at my place first, where I layer shimmer and glitter on her eyelids, and then we hit the department stores with the prospect of finding her the best dress “for future events.” A secret weapon sits hidden in my bag: the Swarovski tiara my parents gave me for my fifteenth birthday.
“You never know when you’ll need a party-ready silver dress covered in this many sequins,” I say, holding the glittering garment up to her body. “Please try it on! This is dream material.”
“I can’t think of a single occasion when I’d need this.” Lindsey heads into the changing room.
“I can think of at least five.” I tap my foot outside the door. When she emerges, I pretend to wipe away a fake tear. “You look fabulous!”
Not everyone can pull off sequins. It’s a fine line—too many and it veers into tacky, but with the right cut, fit, and the right person, it illuminates the room.
Lindsey adjusts the hem and observes herself in the mirror.
“Are you sure I don’t look like a giant disco ball?
” She twirls, and the dress catches light from all directions.
“It’s festive, fun, and the hue complements your skin tone. The silhouette is clean, so we won’t overstyle it. No jewelry. Let the dress do the work.” I snap a photo and show it to her. “But the most important thing is whether or not you feel amazing in it.”
She strokes the sequins back and forth, watching the color change. “I love this.” Then she flips the price tag and gasps. “Wait. Maybe not.”
“Allow me, birthday girl.” I pay for the dress (thankfully, she’s not as weird about accepting gifts as Sean is), and we find the perfect strappy heels to go with it.
Afterward, we head to a café for snacks.
We both put on oversized shades as we take our seats outdoors, and we take eight billion photographs and try out all the Snapchat filters.
When the tea and cakes arrive, we pretend we’re influencers and take turns rating the food.
I convince her to put the dress on, and we snap another round of photos.
“That was so much fun!” Lindsey says between breathless giggles as we head back, her face flushed. “I had the best birthday of my life!”
She’s so easy to please I wonder why we’re going to the trouble of a surprise party. The glow on her face warms me, and her laugh fills my chest with pride. We get in my car, and I text Sean: the eagle lands in twenty minutes. No reply.
There isn’t a single car in the driveway when we pull up in front of their house.
This is fine, but something feels off. The house is completely still.
No lights, no movement behind the curtains.
No way there’s a hundred people behind that door.
Lindsey chats away as she gets out of the car, her glitzy dress sparkling under the streetlamps, and my mind reels with six different ways to kill Sean. Has he completely blown this?
She slides the key into the door and turns the knob.
And then—boom.
Lights flood the room. Music blasts in my ear, and as I squint against the brightness, smiling faces swarm me.
Everyone yells “Happy birthday!” The room is an arctic dream, with magical lights and snowflakes twinkling across the ceiling.
My head spins. I’m on a merry-go-round ride, and all that surrounds me is glamor.
Lindsey turns to me and her tears fall instantly. A sob lodges in my throat, and I blink away my own tears. This is the most beautiful thing ever. It’s well worth it, every minute, every cent. This moment will be frozen in time, tucked away securely in my memory bank.
She covers her mouth with her hand. “Did you plan this?”
“It was Sean’s idea, but everybody pitched in.” I pull the tiara out of my bag and place it on her head. “Happy fifteen, Lindsey. Now you have the best birthday of your life.”
* * *
Once the party is in full swing I slip outside to change in my car, peeling off my clothes to reveal the costume underneath.
Cinched into a white satin corset, my featherlight tulle tutu flares in soft layers, barely covering anything.
Garter belts clasp my thighs, and pearls drape down my collarbone.
I grab a set of fluffy wings from the trunk, strap them on, and head back inside.
Snow flurries swirl across the dance floor, pumped from the machine Ray bought after a pretentious Icelandic film inspired him to shoot a short in his backyard.
He dropped it off along with a crate of silver candleholders and crystal vases.
He’s not coming, obviously. A dry, miserable, middle-class gathering is beneath him (his words, issued with a shudder).
Sean stands beneath a veil of clear tinsel that glimmers like a frozen waterfall. He’s actually put in the effort to dress for the theme, and wears a dove-gray blazer tailored to his frame paired with a Prussian-blue bowtie. Not bad, Foster.
“Glad to see you went all out with your outfit.” I tilt my chin at him.
“Not as much as you did.” His eyes flick away. I’m basically in lingerie.
“Me? I wear this to bed every night. But it’s a pain sleeping on my back with the wings.”
He laughs. “What exactly are you supposed to be? I thought you said fairies in a winter wonderland. Fairies don’t have that kind of wardrobe.”
“This is a Victoria’s Secret angel-style fairy. Do you like it?”
He swallows. “I can’t talk to you when you’re wearing something like that.”
I chuckle, stepping closer. “Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?”
“You make it so I can’t think.”
He doesn’t glance away anymore. Instead, he gives me a slow once-over, and my skin burns.
Maybe it’s his gaze, or maybe it’s his smile, but something stirs in me and makes me weak in the knees.
“I’m ready to collect my first wish,” I say, as a spur-of-the-moment idea hits me. “Let’s go make out in your bedroom.”
His lashes flutter. “What?”
“I said, let’s go make out in your bedroom.”
He turns to do a quick look around, making sure no one overheard. “I have to supervise the party. In case things get out of control.”
Isn’t that Dylan and Jake’s job? Jake is currently bedazzled in edible glitter, and Dylan’s trying to start a conga line with a group of freshmen—business as usual, basically. The only things getting out of control are Sean’s hormones.
“Fine.” I put my hands on my waist. “Then let’s make out in the living room. You can still keep an eye on the party.”
He exhales as if I asked him to donate his liver. “Why are you doing this?”
“You owe me.”
Madison swings by and I call, “Mads, would you mind covering for us? Sean and I have urgent business to attend to.”
“Sure.” She smiles like the evil fairy-tale stepmother she is. “You kids have fun.”
* * *
Inside his room, Sean sighs. “What’s this about?”
“What do you mean?” I straighten my back. The wings are heavy.
His bedroom is pretty much the same as I remember.
The duvet is a wrinkled mess on the bed, textbooks are stacked on his bookshelf, and trophies from basketball games and science tournaments clutter the top of the dresser.
In one corner, sagging against the wall, are the Einstein balloons I got him.
He still has them.
“You know what. Feels like something’s going on here.”
“I just want some fun.”
His eyelids droop, and he says quietly, “I thought you’d had your fun with me.”
“The fun isn’t over until I say it is. Please hold up your end of the deal.” My gaze unfaltering, I raise my eyebrows. “What are you afraid of?”
He stares back, taking the challenge. One wish, one more step in my plan. That’s it. My heart pounds despite my resolve to conduct this in a professional manner. After about an eternity, Sean steps closer and stops before me. “Close your eyes.”
I do as I’m told. He moves in closer, but he’s in no hurry, making me wait until my mouth goes dry. He brushes my hair aside and tilts my chin up. My breath hitches.
Then his lips land on mine.
He tastes exactly as I remember. He’s warm and gentle, and applies the ideal amount of pressure. He takes his time, neither rushing nor stalling, and it brings me back to before.
I miss everything about it. I miss this so much I almost catch a sob rising. The weight of wanting him is unbearable, and I realize how sad I’ve been, how much I’ve wanted him, how much I still want him. I’ve been desperate to use my wish this way, hoping it’ll remind him of us.
His hand moves to the small of my back and rests there, burning a patch on my skin, while his other hand runs through my hair, tugging at it, and then he pulls me in close.
I wrap my arms around his neck, struggling against the wave of nostalgia as the memory of our first kiss overlaps with this one.
He pulls me in even closer until my body is pressed tight against him.
I hate how much I still like him. I wish I never had to stop kissing him. The past few weeks we’ve worked together have been the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
And then it hits me. I can never win with Sean. It’s a battle I’m bound to lose, and if I continue this stupid heartbreak operation, I’ll only end up hurting myself. I can’t control him, and I can’t make him feel the way I do.
Why is revenge not all it’s cracked up to be?
It’s not satisfying, just empty. Instead of bringing closure, all it does is create more pain and confusion.
So I push him away. “Thanks, that’s enough,” I croak, my throat tight. “Glad to know your technique hasn’t gotten rusty.”
He stares at me, dazed, lips parted slightly, waiting to be kissed again.
“That’s one wish done and one more to go,” I say. “I let you off pretty easy, don’t you think?”
A shadow of sadness crosses his face like a cloud drifting through daylight. “Flora . . . why?”
“We’d better get back to the party.”
He reaches for my wrist, blocking me. “Tell me why you wanted this.”
“I’ll let you know what else you need to do.”
With that, I push past him and leave.
* * *
“Did you really expect him to fall in love with you after one kiss?” Madison hisses after I pull her aside and fill her in. “He’s not a Disney princess. He really hurt you and you’re letting him do it all over again.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Even though I have absolutely no idea anymore. This was supposed to be simple. Make him fall for me, then crush him like he crushed me. The end. Except this is the kind of movie that insists on a twist no one asked for.
“Sean has a powerful effect on you. I’ll never understand your obsession, but let’s admit he’s an admirable opponent and drop this before it’s too late,” she says. “He’s not worth this much of your headspace. You might be using this revenge thing as an excuse to spend time with him.”
The truth stings. Maybe that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. A weak justification to be around him, to feel close to him again, only to fail miserably as I fall for him.
“After the first bout of Sean-itis, I’ve got immunity now.” I pick up a cupcake from the side table and inspect the frosting.
“Whatever you say, honey. You’re too soft for the malicious revenge game. By the way, this turned out well, right?” Madison nods at one wall of the living room.
Several black-and-white photos are hanging there, and it’s undeniable that Daniel knows what he’s doing.
Lindsey smiles like a movie star in her portrait, and the room now resembles a sophisticated photo gallery.
There’s also an absurd number of photos of Madison, filling up an outrageous amount of space, of which she says, “Hey, Dan’s the artist, he decides what looks good up there. ” She points. “There’s one of you too.”
A small picture, about one-tenth of the size of the other portraits, is tucked into the corner.
It’s of Sean and me in the cafeteria, sitting together.
My head is thrown back and I’m laughing, mouth opened ridiculously wide and showing far too many teeth.
Sean’s as handsome on film as in real life, and he’s gazing at me with unguarded affection.
A tolerant smile tugs at his lips that seems to say, I don’t know what to do with you, but please stay the way you are.
I’m speechless.
If that’s not love, then I don’t know what is.