by Mara Jacobs
***
Darcy watched as Lewis rounded the car to open her door. She knew what he was thinking. She always knew what he was thinking—which wasn’t easy with a mind like his. He was thinking about Grace and their kiss. Maybe even something along the lines of it going differently this year.
Oh, it was going to go differently, if she had anything to do with it. She just hadn’t worked out the logistics of it yet. But she’d designed many games, and you always started with the goal and worked backward.
But was Lewis kissing her at midnight the goal, or just him not kissing Grace?
“Coming?” he asked as he held out his hand for her.
She took his hand and felt a tiny spark as his cool, smooth hand enveloped her small, warm one. She looked up at him to see if he felt what she did and saw him stare at their joined hands. Will his head turn? That would mean he was trying to figure something out. Turn. Turn. And then, ever so slowly, and ever so subtly, his head tilted as he rotated their hands just a fraction.
She pressed her palm deeper into his, loving how big and protective his felt, and watched as his brow furrowed just the tiniest bit. She stepped out of the car, and was greeted with a blast of cool air, from more than Lewis letting go of her hand as soon as she was standing.
“Wow. It must have dropped ten degrees in the time it took to drive over.”
Lewis looked up at the dark sky. “No stars. Must be heavy cloud cover. Could be a storm.”
Great. No way was she going to let these perfectly executed curls get caught in the rain, even though she’d pictured a stolen moment with Lewis on the terrace. Guess she’d just have to find an alternate private nook, indoors.
Lewis started through the parking lot and Darcy hurried to catch up to him. She wanted to enter with him, and let people think what they would. “Lewis,” she called. “Slow down. These shoes are really hard to run in.”
He stopped and waited for her, noticing her shoes. “Wow,” he said and she felt total justification in the money spent. “Those are going to be killing you by the end of the night.” And then, total frustration.
“I know,” she grudgingly admitted. “But I like how they make my legs look.” He looked at her legs and she struck a pose, flexing her calf and shifting so the slit up the side of her dress fell open.
“Hmmm,” he said and turned to hold the entrance door for her. She went through and nodded to the girls set up at the coat check station. She handed them her wrap, took the ticket they gave her, put it in her tiny clutch (also beaded!) and hurried down the hallway to catch up to Lewis, who had no coat to check.
“Lewis, wait,” she called and he turned, looking as if he’d forgotten she was with him. Not that she was with him, but, still. He stood at the entrance doors to the party and did as she commanded—waited. One thing about Lewis: his self-awareness about being so absent-minded had made him good at taking orders.
“Lewis, stay,” she added, not wanting him to go through the doors and make a mad dash, at least attention-wise, to wherever Grace may be. Maybe she’d get lucky and Grace wouldn’t be there yet, and Darcy would have a few more minutes of Lewis’s attention, such as it was.
When she reached him, she took a deep breath, preparing to enter the room where she’d spend the first night of the Rest of Her Life. He held the door for her and she walked into the already crowded room.
“Wow,” she said, taking in all the gorgeous gowns and dazzling tuxes.
“Wow,” Lewis said and Darcy didn’t need to follow his gaze, but she did anyway.
There stood Grace Devine, looking like she never had before, in a beautiful gown that Darcy suspected belonged to Annabelle, talking with a handsome man Darcy had never seen.
And just like that, all the work Darcy had done in the last year in preparation for this night—the Lasik, growing out her hair, the highlights, the ridiculous amount of money she’d spent on her dress and shoes—didn’t seem nearly enough to compete with the way Lewis looked at Grace Devine.
Something inside Darcy snapped. And then, something outside her did, and she felt herself falling off her glass slippers. Her last thought before she hit the ground was of turning into a pumpkin.
