41
Valentina
Ican do this.
It’s just another party.
Not that my track record is stellar by any means, but tonight will be different. Huxley and I are dating this time, and everyone else will be too focused on their costumes to pay attention to me, him, or us.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
I smooth my dress down, watching myself in the mirror.
My dress is shorter than I thought it would be.
I forgot that it had to fit around my chest and hips when I originally held it up to my body at the thrift store.
I turn to look at my backside and curse at how close the dress is to showing off my ass.
Lovely.
“Val. We’re leaving. We’ll see you there,” Birdie yells out.
“Okay. See ya,” I yell back and hear the door close behind them. They both decided to dress up as ‘Country Girls’. Apparently, that gives them a reason to wear really short jean shorts and super-tight tank tops. Though I doubt real country girls would wear such a thing.
I turn around again and try pulling my dress down further, but it doesn’t budge.
“Damn it.”
“You look beautiful, Love.”
I yelp and stumble on my feet. Huxley leans against the door frame, his smile mischievous as he takes in my shocked expression. He must have come in while the girls were leaving. Why didn’t they tell me that? I stop mentally yelling at them when Huxley’s eyes slowly travel down my body.
Normally, I would feel self-conscious in a dress like this, but Huxley isn’t looking at me like I should take the dress off.
Well, actually, he is. But in the sense that he wants to rip the dress off me, rather than that I shouldn’t have it on in the first place.
And instead of that scaring me, my nerves settle ever so slightly.
“Actually, scratch that.”
Okay. The worry is back.
Huxley pushes off the doorframe and walks over to me. His eyes scan me again, pulling at my nerves until he says, “You look so gorgeous.”
I relax again as he leans down and kisses my cheek.
“It’s not too short?”
He takes a step back to look me over again. Reaching for the bottom of my dress, he gives it a sharp tug.
“Huxley!” I shriek, grabbing the top of my dress to keep it up.
He feigns an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Love.”
I smack his chest with no real anger behind it. “Asshole,” I mumble.
He smiles and looks me over again. “Spin.”
“What?”
He moves his finger in a circle. “Spin for me.” I slowly turn in a circle. “Do it again. Faster this time.”
I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms over my chest. “I am not giving you a show.” He pouts, and I nearly cave. “And besides, I won’t be spinning at the party, so I don’t see the point.”
“Fine.” He reaches for me and pulls me to his chest, his arms wrapping around me. “Just don’t leave my side.”
“Deal.”
He leans forward and kisses my forehead, and I already feel better about tonight.
As soon as we walk into the house for the party, Huxley’s hand turns into a death grip on mine. I wasn’t expecting him to be this scared, and even though I’m losing feeling in my fingers, I let him keep his grip. Because honestly, it makes me feel better, too.
As we move through the house, I catch a glimpse of other girls and their ‘costumes’. The typical nurses and witches mill about, but some of the other costumes I don’t get, and I’m not sure I’m supposed to.
Huxley was right about most of them wearing barely anything, and now I’m even more glad he convinced me not to wear something that would help me fit in.
A few of them look up at me and instantly glare, but I doubt it’s because of my costume. I squeeze Huxley’s hand tighter, trying to ignore them, but I still feel their glares burning into me. More specifically, burning into my hand that is connecting me to Huxley.
He pulls us into a room that makes my heart race. I grip his hand tighter, making him stop. His eyes find mine, and grow in worry when he sees my shaken state.
“What’s wrong?”
I glance from the couch back to him. “Do we have to sit there?”
He looks back at the couch and his body tenses instantly, remembering the last time he was there, and everything that happened afterward. He glances around the room before looking back at me. “Do you mind sitting on my lap?”
Before I can even think of a response, some guy comes stumbling into us. “You can sit on my lap, sweetheart.”
I shove him back, and Huxley steps in front of me. The guy barely even reacts, too drunk to realize what he did. I watch him leave, leaning into Huxley to erase the feeling of the other guy on me.
When he stumbles out of the room, Huxley takes my hand and pulls me to a chair next to the couch. He sits down and pulls me onto his lap, gripping the inside of my thigh to pull me close to him.
Somehow, I’m comfortable with Huxley’s hand on my leg. His touch feels safe and protective, the opposite of how I felt when that drunk guy got close.
I relax into Huxley’s arms and look around the room. After only one glance, boredom hits me.
“Is this what you normally do at parties?” I ask, watching people wander around, drinking, and holding small conversations. “Just sit?”
His tightening grip on my leg pulls my attention back to him, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t usually stay for very long.”
Oh.
I look down at his hand on my leg, unease filling my chest. Why did I have to bring that up?
“Right,” I say under my breath, but Huxley hears me. I feel his eyes on me, but I’m not ready to look at him.
I shouldn’t have asked that. But for a split second, I forgot who Huxley was. I forgot about the girls, the rumors, and the whole reason we’re together in the first place.
Way to fuck up again. Please stop.
“Hey. Piano girl.”
Something tells me I’m the one this person is talking to, so I look up, my eyes connecting with Collin from Freshman year.
He smiles a boyish smile that feels comforting, like he’s an old friend I grew up with rather than some guy I met Freshman year. “It’s me. The Senator.”
Collin hasn’t changed much from Freshman year. Like Huxley, he bulked up a little, but unlike Huxley, he has no tattoos, and his soft blond hair is much more civilized. He seems sweet.
I smile back at him. “Hi, Collin.”
His eyes go wide, and he pauses halfway to the couch, his eyes bouncing between me and Huxley. “You remember me?”
“How could I forget? You started an uproar with Birdie, and Professor Owen called us the four horsemen all semester.” I remind him.
Collin smiles proudly as he finally sits down. “How is the little bird doing?”
Birdie shows up out of nowhere and smacks the back of his head. “She’s great. Thanks for asking.” She walks past him and sits on the opposite end of the couch—Huxley’s normal spot.
“Still violent as ever, Bernadette,” Collin says, smiling at her as he rubs the back of his head.
Birdie forces one back. “I will still kill you. I know where you live.”
Collin’s smile falls. “I’ve moved since Freshman year.”
Birdie leans forward and whispers, “I know where you live.”
Collin’s eyes widen again as he looks back at me. “She’s scarier than I remember.”
“She just doesn’t take shit from anyone anymore,” I tell him.
“When did she ever?” Collin mumbles.
Birdie smiles and flips him off as she takes a drink from her cup. His eyes follow her movements for a second before he looks back at me.
“Hey, piano girl.”
“Valentina,” I remind him.
“Oh, right.” He glances at Huxley. “That’s why he calls you Valentine. I thought your birthday was on Valentine's Day.”
“It is. I’m the reincarnated St. Valentine here to shoot arrows through your head.”
He thinks for a minute. “Isn’t it the heart?”
“That explains why no one loves me.”
Our little group goes silent.
Huxley’s hand tightens on my thigh, and Collin glances at him. And that’s when my words hit me.
Fuck. Why did I say that?
The silence lingers until Birdie fake coughs to gain all of our attention.
“Technically, our hearts are just organs in our bodies that keep us alive. All of our emotions and love receptors are in our minds. People just say the heart because when love is gone, it feels like they are dying. Like their heart stopped.” She holds out her index fingers and then connects them. “I’ve connected the dots.”
“You didn’t connect shit,” Collin refutes.
“I’ve connected them.”
Birdie and Collin hold each other's gaze until realization kicks in; both quickly look at anything other than each other. Collin, the ceiling. Birdie, her cup.
“I’m gonna get another drink,” she says before slipping out of the room.
Collin stands from the couch. “Me too. Wait. No. I mean. Shit.” Then leaves the room as well.
“What just happened?” I ask, staring at the places where the two of them were before they hastily left the room.
When Huxley doesn’t respond, I turn to him and freeze. Worry fills his eyes as he stares up at me.
“Huxley?” I move my hand to the back of his head and twist my fingers through his hair. “Are you okay?”
He nods quickly, unconvincingly. “Yeah. Valentine. I’m fine.”
Great. I just keep making this night better and better.
I force a smile and look around the room again to avoid the heaviness that’s still in his eyes despite his words. In the corner of the room, a group of girls gains my attention. Mainly because they are staring at me on Huxley’s lap.
For some reason, I stare back at them, hoping they’ll back down. But they don’t. They just keep glaring. So I look away.
“Are they ever going to stop?” I accidentally say out loud. Huxley doesn’t say anything, but his thumb moves gently over my thigh, pulling my attention back to him.
“Just ignore them, Love,” he says with a more convincing smile. “They want something you have.”
I glance at the girls again, getting more uncomfortable by the second. “I’ve never had people stare at me like that,” I whisper as if they can hear me. My fingers fiddle with the zipper on Huxley’s leather jacket to distract myself. “Maybe during a presentation or something. But not like this.”
His hand moves back and forth over my thigh in a soothing gesture. “We can leave if you want to.”