by Kata Čuić
I nestle into Jason’s chest further. He might make me crazy, but there’s still nothing I wouldn’t do to protect him from Hayleigh. She’ll never sink her claws into him again if I have anything to say about it.
“I still say this plan isn’t working. We need to come up with something else. Winter break will be here before we know it. There’s no way this can go on until graduation without us all getting fucked over.”
“I know,” Rosie agrees with Jason easily. “I’m working on it.”
Some of us have already been screwed over. Tears well in my eyes, just thinking about Layla. I’ll do whatever it takes to end this as peacefully and as quickly as possible. “I’ll make sure Jason’s the most handsome man in attendance at the Holiday Bash.”
He eyes me with a frown. “You’re not putting makeup on me. No way.”
I brush my fingertips over his raised skin, then cup his jaw before kissing his lips. “No more about your face, Villain.”
His smile warms my chest. Until the gagging noise near the doorway ruins the moment.
“Ugh, no. No more nicknames. There’s selling it, then there’s overkill. You two are way over the line.”
Funny. Whether I want to kill him, ride him, or love him, I’ve never faked anything when it comes to Jason.
Maybe Kieran was right. Jason gives me the freedom to be the real me.
Lie: The holidays make everything brighter.
“This is the most magical Holiday Bash ever!” Lisa squeals in my ear as she brings me in for a hug. “I can’t believe we pulled this off!”
I have to agree with her. The Student Union has been transformed into a winter wonderland, complete with fake snow, twinkling snowflake lights hanging from the ceiling, and strands of the tiniest, most delicate Christmas lights draped over every available surface. A palette of the palest blue and whitest white shimmers in the dim lighting. The dance floor is empty for now, attendees choosing to mingle on the fringes of the room, sipping their non-alcoholic snowflake martinis.
Eventually, one of the frat brothers will convince the bartender to add actual vodka to the mix, but that’s okay because it’s expected. Even the Wellbridge staff who attend look the other way, as long as Panhellenic Council doesn’t advertise alcohol consumption in the name of raising money for charity. It’s practically tradition for party-goers to stumble out into the cold winter wind, tipsier than when they arrived and with a warmth in their chests from giving to a good cause while enjoying the best party of the school year.
“Told you I could get your hair to curl.” She smiles at me as she springs one of the corkscrews that fall loose from my updo.
I pat at the lump of hair on top of my head, afraid one wrong move will ruin it. I’ve ruled out the possibility of dancing tonight. It’s kind of sad I’m twenty-one, and this is the first time I’ve had a formal hair style. No matter how hard Rosie tried in the past to doll me up, some things can’t be changed, and my limp hair that won’t hold a curl is one of them. Until tonight.
Since we spent all day setting up for the big event, those of us on the planning committee didn’t exactly have time to flock to salons for professional hair, makeup, and nails. We barely had enough time to change into our gowns in the student union restroom. Still, it was a fun bonding experience. We laughed, pre-gamed with music and fruity shooters that Tara picked up at the liquor store and did each other’s makeup. It was like a sleepover. In the middle of the day.
“Where’s your man candy?” Jacquelyn sidles up to us, then glances around the room, focusing on the door where a steady trickle of people enters the ballroom, only to stop and gaze in wonder at the transformation.
“He said he’d be here when the doors opened. He’s probably waiting in line to get through.” Setting up today and hanging out with my fellow Greek sisters has been a great distraction from everything else going on in my life. For several hours, I didn’t worry whether Jason would show up. I didn’t obsess over the possibility of our relationship being just one more lie on the pile. Layla never even crossed my mind. It’s ironic the very people who helped me forget my problems are now reminding me of them.
Thank God Tara arrives, looking like she’s about to burst with glee. “Did you see who had the nerve to show up?”
We glance in the direction she gestures toward. Hayleigh seems to be having trouble finding purchase in any of the small groups surrounding the dance floor. She flits from person to person, looking as elegant as ever and never letting her smile drop though it’s obvious she’s met with distaste wherever she tries to land.
Tara sneers in her direction. “Most of the people here are supposedly on her blacklist. She can’t honestly believe anyone wants to talk to her, let alone be seen with her. It’s like being labeled guilty by association.”
They stare at me.
And yeah. That guilt feels very warranted. On multiple counts.
“Oh my God,” Lisa breathes.
I cringe, waiting for them to lay into me the way I deserve.
Instead, Tara whistles.
Jacquelyn and I turn in the direction she’s gaping with her chin on the floor. He’s impossible to miss under normal circumstances, but tonight is an entirely different experience. A spotlight could be trained on him for as much attention as he’s drawing. The crowd entering the room parts for him, making it obvious he’s someone of importance. His movements are steady and confident. He doesn’t pay any attention to their stares or whispers, but when he breaks through the throng, he glances around the room until his gaze settles on me.
He stops short, then shakes his head as if waking himself from a daydream, which is usually my MO.
“He’s so…” Jacquelyn whispers at my side.
“Sexy,” I finish.
“I was going to say a walking contradiction, but sure. We’ll go with yours.” Her laughter carries over the soft, pre-dinner music provided by the DJ.
Lisa shakes her head. “It’s true, though. You honestly expect a man who can fill out a tux so well to have a face to go along with the fantasy of what’s beneath his threads. I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
His face is all I see. Even when he’s standing beside me, all I can do is stare up at him in amazement. I truly have no words for this moment. He absolutely looks like the dashing white knight from all my fantasies.
“Ladies.” He nods to my friends, almost like I’m the last person he wants to speak to. I guess I can empathize with that. I couldn’t speak if I tried. “So, what charity are we all spending the big money on tonight?”
Tara physically shakes herself out of her stupor, perking up at his attempt to initiate polite conversation. “The Warm Hearts Foundation.”
He nods. “I have no idea what that is.”
“It’s a charity in New England that provides food, shelter, and job training to homeless people.” Lisa beams. “It was Emma’s idea, actually. We usually donate all our fundraiser money throughout the year to childhood cancer, but she suggested we broaden our scope.”
He finally looks down at me. “Is that right?”
I shrug, uncomfortable under his intense stare and my friends’ praise. I’m not used to being the center of attention. “I kind of got the idea from your family’s Thanksgiving tradition. I hope you don’t mind. It was hard to change direction at the last minute, but hopefully, we’ll be able to provide them with a sizeable increase in their donations from previous years.”
“Do you notice any other new additions to the event?” Jacquelyn bounces on her toes, clearly excited about this part. In all fairness, she did the lion’s share of getting the donations.
“I’ve never actually been to the Holiday Bash before, so no.” Jason doesn’t seem embarrassed about his admission in the slightest.
“We have raffle prizes!” she practically shouts, pointing to the table overflowing with various baskets. Honestly, wrapping them all in tulle and adding snowflake charms to make them look more enticing took up most of our afternoon. “Th
ere’s a Chinese and silent auction this year, in addition to the free gifts for every attendee, so we can really boost our profits for a bigger donation!”
“Wow.” He looks around the ballroom, seeming duly impressed. “And you put most of this together since Thanksgiving break?”
“We did.” Tara sips from her glass, rimmed in sugar, trying to seem like she’s enjoying it as much as if it were a real martini. “Almost everything is handed down from year to year, like the DJ, where to get the decorations and party supplies, which businesses are most likely to donate the free gifts. We wanted to challenge ourselves a bit more since we’re all seniors. This is like our going-away present to Wellbridge.”
“You did a fantastic job.”
The praise is succinct, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard more honesty in Jason’s voice. These sorority sisters, the likes of which he’s mocked in the past, seem to realize how rare the indulgence is. They giggle and twitter like they’ve just received a sticker on a job well done from their kindergarten teacher.
“Ooh, my date’s here.” Lisa waves at him then turns her attention back to us. “I’ll catch up with you girls later. We’re going to go enter the raffle drawings before it gets too crazy at the table.”
Jacquelyn grabs Tara’s hand as she not-so-subtly winks at me. “We should go look for our dates, too. Have a wonderful time tonight!”
Jason cocks his head to the side as he watches them retreat, giggling and whispering to each other as they go. “I’m not entirely sure if they were trying to give us privacy, or if they couldn’t get away from me fast enough.”
The bitter taste of jealousy frees my tongue from its restraints. “Considering they’re the same women who obviously put a lot of time into thinking about what you’re capable of in the bedroom, I highly doubt it’s the latter.”
A smile threatens to break free on his face, but he says nothing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he enjoys the new-found attention he gets from the female population at Wellbridge. And honestly, who can blame him? If I put myself in his shoes, I’d enjoy the heck out of being the object of every man’s fantasies, too.
Without prying eyes dissecting our every move, my gaze once more sweeps over him from top to bottom, then back again. Lisa isn’t wrong. He fills out his tuxedo in all the right places. Even fully dressed, it’s impossible not to be acutely aware of what he must look like beneath the smooth fabric. I didn’t notice from across the room, but his hair is obviously shorter and styled differently.
It’s my turn to bite back a smile. For as much as he didn’t want to attend, he certainly put in a lot of effort toward his appearance. “You got your hair cut.”
“It was time. I can only go a few weeks before it starts to look shaggy.”
“Why don’t you wear it long?” I never realized he’s still so hung up on his appearance. He hides it so well.
He raises his eyebrows. “To cover my face, you mean?”
My cheeks heat, but I nod anyway.
Instead of shutting down, he offers me his arm, then presses a soft kiss to my cheek when I fit my hand in the crook of his elbow. “You are devastatingly beautiful and do not deserve to be seen with a scarier-looking version of me.”
I peer up at him, equal parts flattered and surprised. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He laughs, and his high-wattage smile elevates his already sexy look to ovary exploding. “I tried long hair once, way back in middle school. I was one of those angry kids when puberty hit. After a while, I realized it was not a good look for me. Not only did it not do shit to hide my face, but it made me look well…” He actually blushes. “Like a homeless person.”
I laugh at his obvious embarrassment over his awkward years. It’s comforting to know we have some things in common. “What? You didn’t look like a rock star? I don’t believe it.”
“No,” he draws out the word, shaking his head for emphasis. “By the time I was fourteen or so, I was used to people making fun of me. I hadn’t made peace with it yet, mind you, but it was an inescapable part of my life. When I tried the ‘rock star,’” he mocks me with a smile, “look, they took their teasing to a different level. That’s how I found out it made me look homeless. I came home from school one day, throwing shit around and bitching to my mom about it, and I guess she’d had enough of my bad attitude. She got all up in my personal space, not a bit afraid of my temper tantrum, told me my face was a defining characteristic of mine I was never going to get rid of, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”
I can’t help but gasp in horror. His mother seemed sweet and kind when I met her over Thanksgiving. It’s hard to imagine her saying something so harsh to her oldest son, whom she obviously loves with all her heart.
“She also said I could either waste the rest of my life wishing things were different, or I could channel all my anger and resentment into something more productive. Then, she grounded me from everything until I came up with a way to do exactly that.”
Realization strikes. “You started the Thanksgiving dinner tradition. That was your idea.”
“It was, and it wasn’t. My mom forced me to make a choice. The kids who called me a homeless dirtball gave me the idea. I can’t change my face, but with a little luck and a lot of help, homeless people can change their circumstances. They don’t have to be cold and hungry, even if I have to wake up every morning and look at my face in the mirror.”
I stare up at him and wonder. What does he see every morning? How are our perceptions of his face different? To be sure, the first time I laid eyes on him I was horrified, but I was also undeniably intrigued. Which is why I spent the next year of my life learning everything I could about what made him different, why it happened, and what treatments were available to possibly alter his fortune. Over time, I got used to his appearance, but I look in my mirror every morning and continue to pick out my own flaws.
“What do you see when you look at me?”
His warm brown eyes roam over the best possible version of myself with a full face of makeup, styled hair, and gown with matching jewelry. He’s obviously taking my question seriously, judging by his intense scrutiny. “I see more than you show the world. For as much as you spend time and effort trying to be like everyone else, I see all the things that set you apart. You care about other people, no matter how they treat you. Your big heart is as much a burden as it is a blessing. Maybe because you know what it’s like to feel excluded, you try your hardest to make sure no one else ever feels that way.” He smiles again. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make that expression this many times in a row. “Pretty sure that’s why you told me we were going to be friends, and never let me push you away, even when I was an insufferable asshole to you.”
“Maybe that’s because I see the white knight you’re capable of being instead of the villain everyone assumes you are.”
“You make me believe our weaknesses can be our greatest strengths.”
In a ballroom full of people, he’s the only thing I see. I want to be his heroine in so many ways, but I can’t do that if he won’t let me. “Jason Gould, I do believe you just shared some of yourself with me without the aid of liquid courage.”
“I do believe you are my courage.” He kisses me, and the rest of the world ceases to exist. All the times we’ve faked it in public, all the times we tore at each other’s mouths in frustration behind closed doors are erased in the blink of an eye. There was never a kiss before this.
He takes my breath with him when he pulls away. “I don’t know how to do this, but I promised I’d try. I didn’t think to bring you flowers like the other guys did for their dates. Are we supposed to dance now? I’m not very good at it. I don’t want to embarrass you in front of all your friends.”
Disappointment squashes the butterflies that were dancing in my chest. He’s still doing this for everyone else, even though I’m growing weary of playing that game. I’ve never wanted to change him, only to help him unlock the pe
rson he hides beneath his mask. I want him to want me. “If you don’t want to dance, then we won’t dance. This will be your only Holiday Bash, so we’ll do whatever you want to do. If that’s just to enter the raffle giveaways, then we’ll do that.”
He straightens up and pulls away, seeming to detect the change in my demeanor. “Are there any decent prizes?”
I shrug, glancing toward the crowd at the basket table. “Some salon packages, free lunch and dinner certificates from local restaurants, a Wellbridge-themed basket, school supplies basket. Stuff like that.”
“So, I could win you a fancy date night, huh?” He smirks, but it isn’t as cute as it might have been before. “Let’s go get raffle tickets before it gets much more crowded.”
I also don’t want him to do sweet things for me only because he feels obligated. When he reaches for my hand to tug me toward the prizes, I allow him to take it, but I don’t return the squeeze.
He doesn’t seem to notice, content to pay for a slew of raffle tickets and peer at the baskets to throw in tickets if he likes one. People still move out of the way for him, which makes it easier to view the potential winnings, but he stiffens every time, mistaking their awe for something else.
“Now what?” He turns to me after we’ve spent all our tickets. His expression is both timid and a little eager.
I can’t help but smile at the latter. “The cocktails should be spiked with actual alcohol by now. We can have a few drinks if you want.”
“We can have drinks together at home.” He nods, seeming to come to a decision. “We should dance. Everyone else is.”
I let him lead me to the center of the room, but my heart’s not in it. It’s funny how easy it was to fake it before things became real behind closed doors.
“I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes,” he murmurs into my temple. “But, I can’t pass up the chance to have the most beautiful woman in the room in my arms. Because she wants to be here.”
It’s the closest he’s come to admitting his past. Those words allow me to melt into him. His strength is impossible to ignore as my soft spots rest against his hard planes. It’s difficult to remember he’s still learning how to navigate this, too. He always seems so self-assured, mature, and confident. Though I constantly think about the damage Hayleigh did to Jason’s self-esteem, I don’t want it to become an excuse for his bad behavior.
