by Staci Hart
“Nothing. Nothing happened. Nothing has happened. You’ve stayed exactly the same, and I haven’t. I’ve been pretending for a long time that this—you and me—could be more. That someday, you’d come around, that you’d realize you wanted more. But you haven’t. You won’t. And that’s okay, Dex. You’ve always been honest with me, but I haven’t been honest with you.”
He cupped my jaw, held it like it was a precious thing. “Stella, I’m not just with you because you’re familiar and convenient. I’m with you because I care about you. I can’t give you what you want, all the hearts and flowers and promises. I can’t promise you love. Because I can’t promise you something I don’t believe in. But I always come back to you. I’ll always come back to you.”
The crowd began to count down from ten as a tear rolled down my cheek.
“I understand if you don’t want that. And I’ll accept it, but I don’t want to. I don’t want to lose you.”
“Neither do I, but—”
“What can I do? What else can I give you? I can keep the rest of them quiet, ignore them when we’re together. I can put it all away if it helps. I can give you more of me. But please, please don’t go.”
For a long moment, we stood there, searching.
“Three, two, one … happy New Year!”
Fireworks burst like cannons as everyone kissed for good luck. He thumbed my bottom lip with pained eyes and descended for a kiss.
It was a kiss of wishes and hopes, of pleading and desire. And when it broke, he pulled me into him and whispered a single word.
“Please.”
And even though I knew better, I lied to us both.
4
Go Big or Go Home
The cup of coffee in my hands was warm, the smile on my face was wide, and my heart was so fucking bright, I could have been shooting sunbeams out of my eyeballs.
I sat on my kitchen counter on New Year’s Day, listening to Dex go on about the party.
“You’ve got to do it again,” he insisted. “Did you see social? I think you broke the internet.”
With a laugh, I shook my head. “You guys are giving me too much credit.”
“Don’t be modest, Stell. It wasn’t a fluke—look at what you did at the Victory Party. You’re too good at this to stop.”
I sighed. “It was so much fun to put together. I want to feel that way forever. I want to live in that feeling.”
“See? It makes you happy. You can’t quit something that makes you happy,” he said with a sideways smile.
“I really do suck at that, don’t I?”
“Lucky for me.”
“I did have a thought that I could do one every New Year’s Eve. A mysterious benefactor throws elaborate parties, and no one will ever know who it is.”
“We’ll put it on your tombstone. I was Cecelia Beaton.” He took a sip of his coffee.
The thought dawned on me slowly, catching everything it touched on fire. “Why stop there? God, that feeling—I want an IV of it. I’d give anything to feel this way always. Because inside of that feeling, it's impossible to be sad. The real world doesn’t exist, only that moment and the beauty of it.”
I paused, chest aching. I wanted to live in that feeling forever.
And I had the means to make that happen.
Betty interrupted my thoughts when she shuffled out from the hallway that led to our bedrooms, half asleep. When she blinked her eyes all the way open and saw Dex, she paused and made a face. Before she started for us again, she’d wiped it clean.
“Look at that. Dex in the daytime. I thought one of those other girls might have been a vampire. Turned you into the rabid bat we always knew you were.”
“God, you’re a riot,” he deadpanned.
Betty pushed the button on the espresso machine and yawned so big, I thought I saw down her lungs.
“Where’s your boy?” I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.
“She probably kicked him out as soon as she was done consuming his soul,” Dex answered.
“Takes one to know one,” Betty said sweetly. “He’s still asleep. So are you going to leave, Dex, or do we need to remove you by force?”
“By you?”
She shrugged. “I’ve got a Taser, and Zeke slept over. He’s stronger than he looks.”
“Betty,” I said, “drink your coffee.”
Grumbling, she turned back to the machine.
“You know, I think that’s my cue.” Dex stood from his chair at the island and walked around to settle himself between my legs. “And I’ll see you tonight.”
“Hope so.”
He kissed me briefly, maybe because he heard Betty slide a knife out of the block. They eyed each other as he passed, but when he opened the door, he gave me a hot look and another stupid wink and disappeared.
I sighed happily.
Betty glared at me. “Ew. Just ew, Stella.”
“Ew yourself.”
“I love you, and I’ll support you through whatever dumb bullshit you do. But you were so close to walking away last night, and I cannot pretend like I’m not really annoyed about it.”
“Oh, thank God I missed Ex Dex,” Zeke said as he entered. “I can’t believe you let him stay here. I can’t believe you let him talk you back into this fuckery.” He extended a hand toward Betty. “Coffee.”
Betty rolled her eyes, but she gave him her cup and pushed the button for another. “See? I’m not the only one who hates that stupid ass.”
“I know. Trust me, I know. And I’m, like, ninety-four percent sure it’s all going to go down in flames, but after he begged me last night?” Another sigh. It was like I was going for a record. “One more shot.”
Zeke shook his head. “And what exactly is your best-case scenario?”
“I’m not even going to say. It’s so stupid, it’s the other four percent.”
“You’re asking for it, Stella Spencer. He’s going to hurt you, and you know it.”
I groaned, saying, “I know, I know,” into my hands.
“He is the slipperiest sonofabitch on the planet,” Betty spat. “You were sooo close.”
“And who knew Dominique would be the one to change your mind?” Zeke asked. “I mean, I’d expect it if the sense had been slapped into you. But she wasn’t even violent. Baffling.”
My heart twisted at the memory. “I know. But I know how Dex feels. I know what he can give me and what he can’t. He begged me last night. Begged. He showed up and made some promises. So as mentioned, I’m going to give him one more chance. He’s going to be more discreet—”
Zeke snorted.
“And he’s going to give me more of him. Like him staying the night.”
“So he’s going to act like you matter to him ten percent more than yesterday?” Betty asked.
Zeke waved his hand. “Stop it with the math.”
“So I’ve been thinking about what you asked me before, Betty. About the three must-haves?”
“Oh, I forgot about that. But past me was smart. Let’s hear it.”
“The first? Honesty. I can’t be with a liar—I just can’t. And Dex has never lied to me.”
Betty made an impatient snuffling sound.
“The second is respect.” Both of their mouths opened to argue, but I held my hand up. “He showed me last night that he respects me enough to compromise.”
“That’s horseshit, but continue,” Zeke said.
“The last—communication. And last night, when I was finally honest with him about how I felt, he talked to me, and he listened. All of this means growth. It means he wants to try. He fought for me when it mattered, and that warrants a second chance. I promise—promise—that if any one of those things breaks down, I’m out. I’ve got a foot out the door, and I swear to you, I will take the step all the way out at the first sign of any fuckery. And if I don’t, I give you my full permission to do whatever it takes to help me see sense.”
“Anything?” Zeke asked with one brow raised.
/> “Anything,” I promised.
Betty and Zeke glanced at each other. A silent conversation passed between them.
“All right,” Zeke said, turning to me. “We will let you fuck up just this once. But I’m already planning ways to torture you for the next time.”
“Thank you,” I said politely. “So Dex and I were talking about the party—”
“Can we at least ban his name?” Betty whined. “Call him Flex.”
“Hex,” Zeke offered.
“Ex Dex, copyright Zeke,” Betty said definitively. “Use the power of manifestation against him.”
Zeke nodded emphatically.
“Anyway, I definitely want to do this again, don’t you?”
“It was magic,” Betty answered.
“Absolute fantasy, and you know how much I love fantasy,” Zeke added.
“New Year’s Eve is easy. But I had a thought—why stop there? Why throw one Cecelia Beaton party when I could throw them all year long?”
They leaned in, their eyes eager.
“What if I could throw them once a month? A new theme. Always invite our friends, plus more than that. Make it an even hundred and their plus-ones.”
“Or bump it up to help cover the secret,” Betty suggested. “Keep it a secret. The mystery of it will drive everyone crazy. I mean, look at the internet. Everyone’s talking about it. And that was just one party. What if we did this all the time?”
“Oh my God,” Zeke said, so excited, his voice trembled. “We will be the new Bright Young Things.”
My smile was so broad, I thought it’d split.
“What about more than once a month? How often do you think we could get them together?” Betty asked.
“I’d have to ask Genie, but what else am I doing? These parties were easy—the White Party especially, with her help. Once a week? I wonder if I’d die,” I said on a laugh.
“You could always ramp it up or slow it down,” Zeke noted. “But you won’t be alone. You’ve got us.”
“I’ve got you,” I echoed.
“What about an Under the Sea party? In an aquarium, with mermaids and everything?” Betty mused.
“Greek gods,” Zeke cut in. “Famous statues. Renaissance art. Drag. Spaghetti Western. French Revolution.” His voice picked up both velocity and pitch with every word. He framed his face with his hands. “I think my brain is on fire.”
My brain caught fire too. And with a smile, I made a promise I’d see through to the very end.
“It’s happening, and it will be the most epic thing to ever happen to any of us.”
5
As You Wish
I glanced at the entrance to the party. Again.
No Dex.
He’ll be here any second, I assured myself, not believing it even a little.
It was spring, and over the months, the Bright Young Things had set the media on fire. The White Party had gone viral, and the second the next invitations had been delivered, the world was on top of us. New York buzzed. Even the most remote connections to the fifty or so of us who made up the group came out of the woodwork, looking for an invite of their own. We were stalked on social, followed by the paparazzi. Copycat parties all over the country had cropped up, and people did whatever they could to get in, even with counterfeit invitations and cloak-and-dagger sneak-ins.
And no one knew who Cecelia Beaton was. Not even the police commissioner, Warren, who’d decided to make an example out of us. We’d been raided more than once—Warren loved to flex—and we’d been mentioned in enough derogatory Times articles, you’d think we’d actually done something wrong.
But we kept on. And it was the most exciting, meaningful thing I’d ever done.
We’d found a place to celebrate life itself. And there was no way we were giving that up.
I fidgeted with the rope around my waist as I waited for Dex. The theme was Matchy Matchy, and everyone had been instructed to come with their plus-one in matching costumes. I was dressed as Buttercup from The Princess Bride, and if my Westley didn’t get here soon, people were going to start talking.
Or keep talking.
For two months after New Year’s, it’d been a dream. He stayed over more than once every week. Spent days with me. Didn’t wander, and if he did, he was slick about it. But slowly, he began to drift away, so slow, in fact, that it took me weeks to realize just what was going on. He always had a smile and a valid excuse when I asked. And the connection we’d made at New Year’s had kept me blind for a little longer than I liked to admit.
I knew he was back at it, if he’d ever stopped. His discretion was well orchestrated. I never saw him talking to anyone else at the parties—not talking talking, at least—and he’d stopped telling me much, defaulting to code. He was out or had plans or cited just plain busyness. But I had a hunch. And whatever was going on had gotten big enough that people were talking.
Just not to me.
Not to my friends, either. Which meant the group as a whole was keeping something from me too. Not even Dominique knew—in fact, she’d asked me.
That was how I knew it was dire. And I was just about out of patience.
He was late, late enough that my mind was a humming spiral. It was weird enough that he’d texted me to meet him here, too busy over the last couple days to see me at all.
Fucking fishy.
And it was time to confront him about it.
Frustrated, I glanced at the door again, and my heart sprang into my throat when I saw him.
Deep inside my angry heart, a little piece of me melted at the sight of him in all black, sword in hand, black bandana around his crown with his blond hair peeking out, black mask dotted with sapphire eyes. Eyes that met mine.
I smiled without intending to.
He didn’t.
My smile faded.
Suspicion rose as he threaded his way across the room, meeting me near the back of the room.
“Where have you been?” I asked.
He was skittish, glancing over his shoulder as he took my arm and moved me back toward the wall.
“It’s been two days, Dex. What is going on with you?”
“I need to talk to you,” he said, and at his words, my heart sank to the ground.
“I need to talk to you too,” I countered, removing my arm from his grip. “I don’t know what’s up, but I’m sick of wondering. You’ve been avoiding me. Ignoring me. And this? Whatever this is? This isn’t what we agreed to. This isn’t what you promised me.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you … how to talk to you. But it’s not … I don’t want to hurt you.”
Adrenaline shot through me, icing my veins. “Sounds like you might be too late. Where have you been the last two days?”
His mouth was a line, his gaze bouncing from eye to eye like he’d find an answer to a problem he couldn’t solve in my irises.
“What the fuck is going on?” I fired, my patience gone.
“Stella, I …” He took a breath to power whatever he was about to say.
I didn’t know what made me look toward the door. Maybe it was the blood red of her dress, which was almost exactly like mine. The gold rope around her waist. Her blonde hair wavy and lovely, her eyes bright and naive.
But Elsie Richmond had just walked through the door with a pack of friends.
And she was dressed to match Dex.
When I turned my gaze upon him, it was with a blazing fury that made him take half a step back.
“You’re kidding,” I breathed. “You are fucking kidding me right now, Dex Macy. Never—never—have you attended one of these parties with anyone but me. And this … you … she …” I sputtered.
“I’ve been trying to tell you—”
I shoved him in the shoulder, blinded by tears, my teeth bared. “You didn’t fucking try hard enough!”
He took the hit but reached for me. Looking over his shoulder again. For Elsie.
I jerked
away.
“Stella,” he ground out, “come here. Come here.”
When he grabbed my arm, it was with such force, I couldn’t break free. He turned us toward a back door that, when opened, revealed a patio lit with twinkle lights and set with outdoor couches and chairs.
“Let me go!” I barked.
It was more of a toss than a release, and I stumbled before whirling around on him.
“I’m sorry, okay?” he snapped. “This is why I couldn’t tell you. I knew you’d freak out.”
Tingling rage crawled across my skin. “You coward. You stupid, lying coward. You’ve been seeing her. Not fucking her. Dating her, haven’t you?”
He fumed. “What was I supposed to do, Stella?”
“Tell me the truth!” I yelled, trembling from my toes to the tip of my nose. “Where have you been, Dex? Tell me where you’ve been the last two days,” I ordered, knowing this was it. This was the reason. And it wasn’t just that he was dating her.
“Moving into Elsie’s place.”
I was caught, frozen in stone. Beneath my skin, I was a roaring beast, straining against restraint. But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do anything but look at the man I’d sacrificed my needs for. The man I’d set myself on fire for just so I could keep him warm.
The man who didn’t believe in monogamy or love had committed.
And he hadn’t committed to me.
“How?” I breathed. “How could you?”
His face softened, the sorrow beneath the stone a betrayal to everything I’d put up with. Everything I’d accepted from him like a fool.
He’d starved me for love. And when he tossed me crumbs, I was so hungry for his affection, I believed it a feast.
Stupid, stupid girl.
“I love her, Stella. And to keep her, I can’t see anyone else.”
“You liar,” I whispered. “You fucking liar. All of your bullshit about monogamy and relationships was just a line you sold so you could fuck who you wanted without consequence. If you were being honest, how could anybody get mad? Is that what you thought, you selfish son of a bitch?”
