Chapter Fifteen
It’s shadowy and cramped under the risers in the empty music room, but not so dark that I can’t see every inch of goose-pimpled skin on Avery’s neck as my mouth makes its way down to her shoulders, her collarbone, her waist. She gasps sharply like she always does, body curling, when I kiss the sensitive spot just under her ribs.
And I laugh, like I always do, the sound just a burst of air against her stomach.
From her front jeans pocket, Avery’s phone chimes. I sit up, legs still straddling her so I’m positioned just over her hips. She slides her phone out and turns off the alarm. Recently, the five minutes have been feeling shorter and shorter.
‘Is my neck still intact?’ Avery says.
She smirks when I grip her chin between my fingers and make a big show of tilting her head back and forth so I have the perfect view of her exposed neck.
I squint down at her beneath me, blond hair fanning out in a perfect halo.
The skin of her neck is a smooth, flawless porcelain. She’s so beautiful, my head swims.
‘Clear,’ I say.
Avery sits up and I shuffle off her, then sit with my legs crossed at her side.
She pulls her pink, spaghetti-strap shirt back over her head.
There’s a splash of dark brown on her shoulder and before I can blink, I see it happening: the scales crusting over her skin, the blood vessels bursting in her eyes so that the milky white is stained a violent red.
But when I shake my head, it’s all gone.
Avery’s eyes are the same glacier blue, peering at me quizzically.
The smudge on her shoulder is just a birthmark.
This time around, I only imagined Avery turning a few times.
Every so often I got a vision of fur, claws sharp enough to rip out my throat, even though I know the fact that she’s not a monster right now means I don’t love her.
Either way, worrying about her is a welcome reprieve from thinking about last night with Max, which I’ve done almost obsessively from the moment I left the fro-yo place.
Regret coated my stomach like acid, not only for being stupid enough to let Max follow me, but for telling him everything so quickly afterwards.
It was almost like the pressure of keeping Tyler’s secret had been building inside me these last two months, and Max seeing me hurtle pizza at Tyler’s head was the popping of the proverbial cork.
But now that I supposedly have my job back, Max knowing about Tyler presents an interesting opportunity.
What if this is the in with Max I was looking for?
There technically isn’t a saying that goes, ‘Those who run from part-time monsters together, stick together,’ but shared secrets do tend to bring people closer.
What if this one could be the chance I need to get close to Max and therefore Austin Taylor?
‘Good,’ Avery says on a long sigh. ‘Literally, I cannot wait until prom is over. Did you know they’re making us paint a new mural in the student centre?’
I drop my mouth open in mock horror. ‘Oh my God, they’re making you give back to the school that’s spending thousands of dollars on your stupid dance?’
Avery rolls her eyes but looks down. This usually means she’s concentrating on biting back a smirk. ‘What kind of dress are you wearing?’ she asks.
An image of the blue dress from Seconds floats into my head.
Smooth, silky, the kind of blue that would be the perfect highlight to champagne, like an opal catching the exact right beam of sunlight.
But I blink the thought out of my head, banish it to the back of my closet where I shoved the dress once I got home after Avery’s that day, mortified by that brief glimmer of hope I’d felt when Sam bought it.
‘I’m not going,’ I say quickly.
‘Seriously?’ Avery raises her eyebrows. When I nod, she whistles low and says, ‘God, I’m so jealous.’
‘What’re you talking about?’ I say. ‘You’ve spent the last month plastering prom posters with your face on them all over the entire school.’
She sighs again. ‘Yeah, but Cassidy’s made it this whole thing,’ she says.
‘The school won’t let her boyfriend come because he’s twenty – she’s appealing it, though – so she made us all promise we’d go as one big girl gang in solidarity.
’ Avery gives me her most bored look as she drones, ‘We’re wearing matching dresses. ’
I squint at her, as though I haven’t seen her Snapchat Stories. ‘You’re wearing matching dresses?’
‘Okay, same colour,’ Avery amends. ‘We’re not, like, a bridal party.’
The image of blue pressed up against champagne comes back, except this time, me and Avery are in the dresses, my arms wrapped around her waist, her head resting on my shoulder.
‘I don’t know,’ Avery continues. ‘I just always thought I’d at least have a date for my senior prom.’ She laughs faintly. ‘I feel like such a loser.’
The limo ride back, just the two of us. My hands in her hair—
‘What if you didn’t go with a guy?’ I blurt.
The words fall out against my will and I can picture my face right now as Avery sees it, somehow more surprised than she is.
What am I doing? Every nerve ending is right up against the edges of my skin, the whole of me humming.
‘What if you went with a girl?’ I add quietly.
Avery’s mouth curves slowly, one side lifting into a lazy half-moon. ‘What do you mean?’ she says, eyes locked on mine.
I break our gaze first, heat scorching my neck.
I’m clearly not in love with Avery, something proven by the fact that Avery is currently sitting beside me and is still Avery.
This way, I could go to prom, take dumb pictures with Sam on my porch like we’d always planned, ride in the stupid limo. Just be normal for the night.
‘You’d still be a girl gang,’ I say, fingers playing with the small white buttons on my shirt.
Avery reaches her hand up to cup the back of my neck and pulls me towards her. Our mouths meet slowly, softly, as though our five minutes weren’t up at least two minutes ago.
‘That’s true,’ she says against my lips. Her forehead rests against mine, and I’m too nervous to meet her eyes and read what she’s thinking. ‘But Cassie and I agreed that if I got to pick the dress colour, I’d go stag with her. And champagne is not her colour. She looks like a potato.’
I lick my lips, make a small sound of assent. Disappointment burns behind my eyes, even though I don’t want to go to prom. I genuinely don’t.
Still, I say, ‘Are you sure it’s not just ’cause you don’t want to be seen out with girls in general?’
Avery pulls away and levels a frown at me. ‘You know I don’t care about stuff like that,’ she says.
I fight a cringe. ‘No, I know,’ I say quickly.
Last year, Avery dated the French foreign exchange student who attended Mount Luther for first semester. She had a septum piercing and legs like a giraffe.
Leaning back into me, Avery gently pushes a lock of hair behind my ear. Sparks fizzle under my skin.
‘Cassie’ll kill me if I go back on our plan,’ she says. ‘But if I could go with a girl,’ her lips are feather-light as she kisses my jaw, my whole body melting into her touch, ‘I would.’
Our time is long up, but I can’t handle the feeling of her warmth any more, the need to trace every single inch of her skin with my fingers. I turn to face her fully and press my mouth to hers, fists knotting in the flimsy fabric of her shirt. Both of us sigh into each other.
If this isn’t love, I think the real thing might kill me.