Dateless

by Emily Evans

  I could not afford that dress. I crossed my fingers. “Are these rentals?”

  “My treat,” Georgiana said. “I think I’m in love with the pink one… unless you wanted it?”

  I shook my head. I would have picked the blue gown every day of the week. Now that we were choosing, the price tag possibilities were becoming real. Designer dresses were way beyond my price point, so much so that I wasn’t even embarrassed. This had been a wonderful dream though. “These are designer dresses. I’m going to need to come up with an alternate plan.”

  Georgiana flushed and looked down. “Ladies, do you mind giving us a second?”

  The dressmakers went back to fussing over the dresses. Despite their different demeanors, they all had the same concern for the clothes.

  “The other people invited to the ball… the exception to the rules… I’m one of them.” Georgiana flushed harder.

  I tilted my head and I leaned in. “And that exception is…?” I really had no clue.

  “The filthy rich,” she whispered.

  “Ah.” I’d have guessed the excessively eager before I’d have guessed filthy rich.

  Georgiana bit her lip, and her eyes pleaded with me not to be angry. “I didn’t say anything… about my…” She shrugged. “Money. Because I don’t.”

  I waved a hand. “I get it. I wouldn’t share that info either.” That kind of money belonged to people of two extremes. Those who made sure everyone knew they had bank and those who kept it private. Though redoing her room, which I was now guessing she had done, wasn’t that private. But the location was secure; it wasn’t like we had guests over.

  Georgiana popped off the couch and held out her hands to pull me up. “Now we try them on. You can be my plus one to the ball.”

  “I…”

  “We both know you wouldn’t have gotten through security. Not here. Not at this.” She grinned. “And I’ll love seeing Peppa’s face when you walk in.”

  I debated for a second. I really did. Then I smiled thanks at Georgiana. “Deal.” I’d share her invitation, but I wasn’t okay with her treating me to a dress. “Just the invite though.”

  Georgiana twirled a strand of her blonde hair between two of her fingers and checked the ends as if looking for splits. “Did you borrow clothes from your friends back home?”

  “Occasionally.”

  She dropped her hair and held open her palms. “Okay, then.”

  That comparison worked for me. I would have loaned her anything from my closet. She felt the same. I now had a gown and a ticket.

  A sense of reality hit me—my plan was working. I was going to the ball. I let my grin widen and gave her a quick hug. “Thanks.”

  ***

  All the interns convened for the last time Saturday morning in the assembly room so some secretary for the Prime Minister could thank us for our efforts this summer. Peppa had already sent a briefing email doing the same.

  I shifted and looked around the room. Did the other interns look any different, any older? Any wiser?

  Was I any different?

  I wasn’t jetlagged. I wasn’t late. Was that all I could say for myself? If I thought hard about it, I knew it wasn’t. I’d seen Britain in a way I hadn’t with my family. With adult, independent eyes. With a genuine new appreciation. And taking this break from my sister’s emails had been enlightening… peace-giving.

  Georgiana peeped around the corner, and I waved her over. She took the seat beside me and folded her hands over her knees in her perfect lady-like posture.

  “Summer’s over. I was not the best intern.” My words came out dryly like it didn’t matter.

  She shrugged. “Me either.”

  “Are you staying on in London after this weekend?”

  Georgiana looked down at her phone, tightened her grip on it, and then put it in her handbag. “There’s some family stuff back home I need to attend to. I don’t know.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  She shook her head. “It’s kind of big. I’ll have to figure out a way to deal with it all.”

  I didn’t push, and we talked about home a bit, where we lived in Texas, what we missed from home. It was more and less than I expected. I missed talking to my sister more than I thought I would. But I didn’t miss the negativity. I missed Texas, too—the endless blue sky, the knowing how things worked, my friends.

  Peppa went to the front of the room, and the chatter and our reminiscing stopped. “Your time as interns has come to an end.” Peppa spoke from the podium, and she sounded almost sad about it. She hadn’t looked happy since I met her, but now she looked bummed that the summer was ending. “As former interns, you have a badge of honor to wear for the rest of your life. Honor it. The weight can be heavy. For any time your name is mentioned in the media, good or ill, it will be associated with this office. Every job application will ask about it. Every time. Do us proud.”

  The crowd clapped.

  Georgiana unclipped her hair, fluffed it, and looked at the exit.

  “Now, give a hand to our top interns as they proceed out to the gardens. And let’s not forget those not on the top. All contributions have had value. Our thanks to every one of you as you continue on your life’s journey.” We all clapped. Even those of us with just two points like me. The non-top interns. I admitted to some envy as the top interns left. But giving up the last public function, the play, to ensure Wythe did well in his class, had been the right decision. Though it still hurt.

  Peppa caught up with us by the rear exit. “A moment, Kira.”

  Georgiana escaped with a small wave.

  I hung back, and a flicker of hope winked inside me. It would make life simpler if I was in that photo. But it was Peppa, so I didn’t let myself hope.

  Peppa stared at the open doorway rather than looking at me.

  “Something you wanted?”

  Peppa’s mouth twisted, and she shook her head, almost looking… What was that? Guilt? She looked like Trapper did when he’d done something bad and didn’t want to confess. Peppa said, “Congratulations on doing well in class.”

  I clasped my hands together. “Thanks.”

  “Well, I, uh, the interns are meeting in the garden for the photo.”

  Yeah. It had been making me sick to my stomach from the second I woke up knowing that would be today.

  “Too bad you don’t get to go,” Peppa said, and it wasn’t said in the tone of a dig.

  I couldn’t even choke out the words to ask if I could. I wanted to. I wanted that photo for my parents’ mantle.

  Peppa shrugged one shoulder, a too-casual move that didn’t suit her personality. “And about the ball…”

  “I didn’t even want to go to the ball.” Pride put my words right out there to head off the dig she was probably building up to.

  Peppa brightened. “Well, then. Good luck with the rest of everything.” She walked off and didn’t look back. Super odd. I didn’t know what she wanted, but it hadn’t been to congratulate me. I headed back to my room. I had to prepare.

  Chapter 22

  I stood on the steps leading to the Downing Street gardens and saw the whole place in a different light. This was an old historic government building, yes, but its gardens were decorated with twinkle lights, and that gave the place a unique beauty. The air smelled of roses and perfume instead of tension and paperwork. The guests wore tuxedos and gowns instead of business suits. And here I was, no longer an intern. I was dressed in the beautiful borrowed gown, and I was at a ball. Music beckoned from a twelve-piece orchestra set up on a wooden stage in front of the tablecloth-covered tables. It was a fairytale.

  And I stood there on the steps. Alone. Dateless.

  This was no dream. And now being here felt less like defiance and more like a path to loneliness. He’d been texting me all day. But he hadn’t asked me to the ball in the texts. So, I’d ignored his messages. He hadn’t gone that extra mile. Set the trashcan on fire. Done what had to be done to get my attention. He’d d
one what was expected. I turned to leave, and the blue silk of my gown swished around my legs.

  “Kira.” Wythe’s voice was deep. “There you are.”

  I turned.

  Wythe stood to my right. Black tuxedo fitted to his sculpted body. Hair tamed. Eyes wild. He held out his hand. “Be my date.”

  Everything faded into the background, the guests, the circulating waiters. There was just cello music in my ears and the twinkle lights highlighting him. My heart thumped a ridiculous rhythm though I knew it was wrong to be so pleased at the sight of him. He was so… so… Stop.

  “You’re here with Peppa.” The words came out like I felt them, like an accusation. He didn’t like Peppa; I wasn’t confused about that. I was confused at the reality of this situation, though. He was not here with me, despite the fact that he was holding out his hand to me. Was it because I was convenient? I’d found my own way in, so now I was someone different than I’d been two days ago.

  He dropped his hand but stayed close. “Of course not.” He denied being with Peppa, but I knew he was here with her. Was he reimagining his reality with me? Like those guys who acted like they didn’t have girlfriends when they did so that they could keep their options open. Ew. I’d thought so much more of him. I hated that he made me question what I knew. A circulating waiter paused to offer me pale, fizzy champagne. I refused.

  Wythe took a glass and a sip. “What kept you too busy to come see me?” His gaze swept over me from my up-do to my uncomfortable but pretty sparkling high heels. “You look stunning.”

  So did he. Confused pleasure flitted through me with a touch of anger. I waited for the waiter to move on before I launched back in. “You asked Peppa to the ball.”

  “I asked you.” He shook his head and looked at me like I was a little crazy.

  “I would have remembered that.” My tone was dry, and I kept my insides in line, though they were going crazy with his words.

  “Peppa didn’t talk to you?”

  “She came to talk to me after the meeting this morning, but she didn’t say anything about any of this.”

  He frowned.

  Was that what he was talking about? “You know, the meeting where all the top interns were praised and led outside for the intern photo while I sat and watched them go?”

  He put his glass down on the stone landing, his shoulders tense. “I texted Peppa from Westminster Abbey saying we wouldn’t make the play. But that you should still get your final intern point for helping me with the class. That was going to be a good surprise for you. I thought you’d come see me after the photo. You didn’t.”

  What? I shook my head. Just what?

  “I told my mother to put Peppa’s name down for the ball to shut her up. But it gave me the idea to invite her for real. A bribe to ensure your name would be on the list, too, and you’d get that point.” He was frowning, and his chest rose and fell under the tuxedo jacket. “I went to tell you myself, but you were out with Georgiana. Peppa said she’d sort it.” He looked at me like I should know this. “Peppa said you’d be here. You’re here.”

  “Georgiana got me in.” My voice had weakened. I shut my eyes. It had hurt knowing the photoshoot for top interns was going on in the garden and I wouldn’t be there. It had hurt, but I’d accepted it. My chest rose and fell as I let out a deep exhalation. It was upsetting to know I should have been there. That my work on the class could be recognized as Household duties. That hurt was countered by the thought that he’d tried. And he’d wanted me here at the ball.

  “I take it Peppa’s not as good at sorting things as we thought.” His voice was tight. “I’ll ensure we put someone else in charge of these things in the future.” He rubbed his jaw, and his words softened. “I know I gave you a tough time about how badly you wanted the internship points. But I understand. Finishing the internship affects your prospects.”

  Heat flushed my chest, and I was glad he appeared willing to listen to me. “It’s more than that. My parents were in these internships when they were my age, so having my sister and I do the same… and then putting our photos beside theirs on the mantle would have been…” I shrugged. “I don’t know, honoring a family tradition.”

  “You really weren’t in the photo today?”

  “A misunderstanding, I suppose.” I wasn’t going to get angry with Peppa now and give that anger control of my evening. Peppa had played some game, been evasive with the truth, but I wouldn’t let her in my thoughts anymore tonight. Because with his words, my outrage was morphing into something I hadn’t expected to feel tonight—joy. Peppa’s manipulations hadn’t defeated me. I’d shown up at the ball for my own sake rather than running home. There was a lesson in there, but I couldn’t name it, not now, not here with the white lights bouncing off the shoulders of his tuxedo jacket and him looking at me with such appreciation. Not with these happy emotions bubbling through me like the champagne in his glass. I held out my hand to Wythe. “I will be your date tonight.”

  An older couple came down the steps near us, and they stopped to greet Wythe. After we said pleasantries, the couple moved on.

  Wythe tugged my hand and led me around the tables, down a path, to a more private bench. I could hear the chatter of the party, the laughter, the music, but I could no longer see it. The bench was cold, and I faced him while rubbing my arms.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Wythe looked away and then back at me. “We got news yesterday.” He kept his voice low, which matched the shadows of this back area. “Those drills weren’t drills.”

  My breathing stopped.

  Wythe held his palms up. “You were so worried that first time in the bunker. I thought you’d leave. I thought you were safer at Downing Street with me. And, selfishly, I wanted you with me. I can tell you the truth now because arrests were made yesterday. The threat, that threat anyway, is over.”

  That explained a lot about this summer. Fear and relief hit me, punching me with back-to-back hard emotions. As furious as I wanted to be, it also put everything in perspective. He had been at risk. I wanted to hash out everything we hadn’t talked out. But perspective didn’t allow that. I let every small hurt go. This wasn’t a stiff upper lip thing or some other British reaction on my part. I had no room in me for petty thoughts, not with him here, safe, and close. I reached for his hands in the cool night air. His fingers were warm against my cold ones. I shivered.

  He put his right arm around me, drawing me along the bench, nearer to him. “I’m forgiven?”

  “Nothing to forgive.”

  He kissed the side of my head and tightened his other hand over both of mine and rested them against his leg. “The intern photo. I can…”

  I shook my head. “It’s okay. My twin will lord it over me, because she’ll have her picture up there with my parents. Just one more symbol of her coming in first. But you know…” My voice eased, and my posture eased as I spoke. I relaxed against him. “I’ll look at them and remember this night, the fairy lights, the champagne, and you… and I’ll smile.”

  He traced his fingertips over my cheek. Then he rose from the bench and pulled me up beside him. “You’re not my intern anymore.” He held out his arms by his side, as if in an invitation to hug him.

  I moved in close and slid my arms around his neck. “You hating that?”

  “I’m loving that.”

  There was nothing more to say. There was just a need to be close to him. We were at the ball but secluded from the other guests. It was only us. The music rose through the hedges, and we danced there in the private dark. Being held by Wythe was an exquisite torture. Near enough to feel the electricity but not near enough to press into it. Whoever had invented slow close dancing was a cruel but brilliant master of anticipation.

  Chapter 23

  We closed out the ball and stayed out all night. Just talking. Okay, some kissing, lots of kissing, and when the moonlight turned to daybreak, I knew I had to break away. “Goodnight,” I murmured against his mouth.
I brushed my lips over his. Once. Twice. I opened my mouth, and his tongue touched mine. Electric. I reveled in him. He tasted like champagne, and Wythe, and the forbidden summer ball.

  Kissing was different now that he was mine. Everything in me was zinging and tingling. This was exactly where I wanted to be.

  “It’s early.” He moved his hands behind my back, slowly. And then his fingertips traced my spine. I groaned and wet my lips. He had slow hands. I thought he’d be fast because of his eager eyes. But he was slow. Back and forth. Up and down.

  He found my neck with his mouth, his tongue, and his teeth. Warmth, grazing bites, and licks that lit up my nerve endings. It was different when he used his mouth instead of his hands, and the electricity flowed from my neck, downward.

  He pulled me to him and kissed me again.

  This time, he tasted a little more familiar. His kisses were a combination of the forbidden and the completely right—like nothing I’d ever tasted. The warmth of him, the heat. I stretched up against him, so I could reach the maximum amount of him with the most of me. The silk of my dress shifted with the motion.

  “Ah.”

  He moaned. “Kissing you is like…”

  He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to; I knew what he meant.

  He brushed a strand of my hair back. “I almost wish I read poetry, so I could describe that for you.”

  “Put it in an equation.” My voice came out husky.

  “There aren’t even numbers.” He traced a sideways eight on my wrist.

  It was infinity. The symbol made my heart clench.

  “This was the longest summer of my life. Best summer of my life. Longest wait for you.”

  He was almost poetic. Living literature had rubbed off on him. I had rubbed off on him.

  I loved that.

  “I need to go up.” My voice was super husky from sleep deprivation. Now I understood why husky voices sounded sexy. They sounded like they belonged to someone who’d been up all night with their boyfriend.

  He kissed my shoulder. “Stay.”