Ch. 17 Dancing With The Enemy
It's like a switch flips the moment Keith and Ella disappear behind doors. It's now a chance to party during the day, and everyone is here for it.
We all exit the church and walk to the reception area set up outdoors. Champagne flows like water and music swells.
Tents offer shade from the bright sun, while lilies and jasmines from the decor fill the air with their scent.
I skipped breakfast for an extra hour of beauty sleep and I'm really feeling it.
I walk towards the refreshment area. There's all sorts of finger foods I can't wait to try.
I grab a canapé that looks interesting.
"So this is where you disappeared to." I turn around—canapé still in hand—to find Kyle leaning against the tent support.
"Is that safe to lean against?" I can't help but ask him the first question that pops into my head.
He raises an eyebrow at me before straightening.
"You know what, I'm not entirely sure." He grins.
"I was looking for you." He tips his head to the side and gestures towards the dance floor. "Care for a dance?"
I blink at him. I'm surprised, but pleasantly so. I've never really had a chance to dance like this.
"Sure. But, fair warning, I don't really know how."
He takes my hand and leads me forward, a smile on his face. He's a few years younger than me—though he towers over me even in my heels. His silver eyes are almost as penetrating as Keith's.
He swings me around on the dance floor, surprising a laugh out of me—before tugging me close with a flourish.
"So, last night was awkward, huh?"
"Was it? I don't remember..." He turns me around before his hand lands on my back.
"Mmm-hmm. Have you known Marcus long?"
Ahh. So that's what it's about. He's curious.
My stomach twists as I realize—Marcus never told them about me.
Was I just a bad high school memory? Something he couldn't wait to erase? My lips pull down for a second, but I force them up again.
It's best not to get into it.
I smile at him and ask a question of my own. "Have you and Frany been dating for long?"
He stumbles on his feet before regaining his balance and turning me around. His color deepens and his gaze darts around before returning to mine.
"We aren't dating—we're just friends! You are the third person to ask me that today! Is someone spreading false rumors?"
Marcus and I are completely forgotten. My eyes land on Frany, whose gaze is glued to Kyle. Her lips are visibly pulled down, and disappointment is clear in the set of her brows.
"May I cut in?" I freeze at that voice.
I turn around slowly to face him—forcibly unlocking my joints. Kyle is already disengaging, a cat-like twist to his lips that makes me frown.
"Of course." He steps back and heads to Frany, who immediately perks up.
Marcus clears his throat and extends his hand. I step back.
"I'm tired. I need to sit down." I turn away but he takes my hand—gently but firmly.
"One dance won't kill you. If I remember correctly, there was a time you would have given anything to dance with me..."
I try to pull away but he reels me into the dance.
Yes, there was a time when I would've given anything to dance with Marcus. To be held by him.
But that was before his gaze was cold as ice and his hatred oozed from every pore.
"Don't flatter yourself. You were just a passing fancy, nothing more."
His lips tighten and his brows furrow.
I follow along to his lead, his hands like vices, refusing to let go. Marcus is an even better dancer now, completely at ease with the rhythm.
"Why are you here, Celeste?"
His question hangs in the air between us, and it tugs on my heart.
Am I not allowed to have friends?
He turns me around, and it gives me a second to compose myself. My throat tightens, and it's hard to swallow.
I won't let him see how much his cold question affects me. I steel my heart and set my face into a blank expression that gives nothing away.
"I'm here for my friend. What do you care, Marcus?"
His jaw clenches as he pushes me away with the rhythm.
"Why did you admit to framing me in high school? All of that effort to set everything up—and you didn't even get to watch my world burn."
I grit my teeth as acid pools in my stomach. Bitterness fills my mouth that has nothing to do with my hunger.
He already thinks the worst of me. Who am I to stop him? My lips twist.
"Well, wouldn't you like to know?" My voice sounds sharp even to my own ears, like broken glass.
How fitting.
His gaze narrows. He pulls me closer and I stumble, landing on his chest.
My eyes widen at such close proximity. His hand slides to my waist and flexes, pulling me closer before stilling completely.
His eyes darken, becoming nearly black.
"What were you thinking, Celeste?" His breath fans against my face, lips inches from mine.
My heart pounds against my chest, while a vein flickers in his throat.
For a simple second, I consider telling him the truth.
His lips twist with something unpleasant, and sound rushes to my ears. The illusion breaks.
I'm sure he wouldn't believe me even if I tried to tell him.
I push against his chest and step away from him.
Thankfully, he lets me go.
"Go to hell, Marcus."
I straighten my hair and get off the dance floor. My cheeks burn.
This party is no longer fun, and with Ella and Keith already gone, I no longer see a reason to stay.
I keep walking until I get to the gate and hail a taxi.
It's only after I've settled in, that my pulse starts to steady. I lean against the backseat, hands clutched in my lap, fingers twisting when suddenly, a growl fills the cabin.
I pat my stomach in disappointment.
Should've eaten that canapé while I had the chance.
—---------------------
Go to hell, Marcus.
Her biting words echo in my head, sharp and jagged.
I can see Celeste walking away, now nearly to the gate.
Her scent lingers around me, still the same—vanilla and winter.
I nearly kissed her.
My hand trembles, and I shove it into my pocket, slowly walking towards some empty seats.
My legs are unsteady.
Watching her laughing and smiling with Kyle twisted something inside me.
I haven't missed the interest in his eyes whenever he looks at Celeste.
Kyle doesn't know her like I do. Like I did.
That day is imprinted in my memory. Her dead voice, her clipped words.
Then why did she confess?
The question rings like a bitter reminder, a thorn that refuses to let me rest.
Maybe it had to do with Hartley promising to let her get away essentially scot-free.
Did she have an attack of conscience...? Or was she afraid the consequences would be worse than catastrophic if she got investigated and found out?
Did she confess because there might be something more she was hiding?
How do I make myself not care?
I got lucky, or didn't—I'm not even sure how to look at that incident anymore. Was it luck that Celeste confessed? Or my misfortune to get framed like that at all?
God!
A huff escapes my mouth and my fingers tighten in my pocket.
Even when she doesn't say a word, she's messing with my equilibrium.
I decided to cut in to get to know Celeste's agenda, and lost myself instead.
I never imagined the feel of her body pressed against mine would knock my breath out like this.
When she was in my arms, it was all I could do not to pull her close.
When I looked into her eyes, all I could see was the crossed-eyed girl with a snowflake on her nose.
She looked so innocent, like she's not kissed a single man since me. My hands fist. The thought of her being with someone else has ash filling my mouth.
I exhale deeply—trying to ground myself.
I need to figure out why things happened the way they did.
I massage my chest at the ache that blossoms.
I push down the spike of fear.
Somewhere—I feel like I earned her wrath.
Dad was right—she was a good kid. A great friend. Someone who clearly meant a lot more to me than I realized.
And my stupidity derailed her from her path. Sure she made her own choices—but I can't deflect the cost of my actions.
If she went after me again—I might deserve it.
But what if Legend gets hurt in the process? Or Ella?
The thought has me breaking out in a cold sweat. Yeah—I'm not taking that risk.
My brows contract and a headache starts forming.
I have to do something.
I finally walk off the dance floor and find a corner. I grab a drink from a passing server as thoughts run through my head, a mile a minute.
The champagne is cool and bubbly—completely contradictory to how I'm feeling.
Kyle pulls Frany onto the dance floor and twirls her—eyes sparkling. She laughs shyly, a rosy blush covering her cheeks.
Legend and Kenneth finally make an appearance, Kenneth actually smiling ear to ear and Legend's hair mussed, a dazed look in his eyes.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes at them.
Kyle waves at me from the dance floor, laughing at something Frany says.
I lean against a pole and sip my drink—effervescent and happy—like this chaotic family that has pulled me into their midst—marking me as their own—without me even realizing it.
I put my glass away—still full—and leave as well. There's much to do.
—-------------------
The laptop screen is the only source of light in the living room as I sit on the sofa that night.
My thoughts spiral. The feel of my dad's cold hand is never far from my mind.
I can't just sit around, waiting.
Information—that's what I need.
For the first time in nearly fifteen years, I google Celeste Shaw.