When a slow song began, Henry led Edie onto the dance floor. With a practiced smoothness, he drew her against him in a formal dance embrace. She held his hand and wrapped an arm around his shoulder, not one jot of Dead Bunny Paws.
“So, I know we’re only here as friends,” he said. “But can I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.”
“Where will honesty get me?”
“I’ll let you know when I see it.”
Henry laughed and drew her closer, inching his hand across her back, not that she could easily feel his touch under her heavily boned bodice and the long-line push-up bra Maria had insisted she wear. Was that what was making her so breathless tonight?
“You know I’ve never lied to you,” he said.
“Actually,” she said, considering, “yeah, I do.”
He did a quick rotation, pivoting her around him. She leaned into the motion, letting the centrifugal force pull at her body until he drew her against him again, slipping his arm further around her waist until he erased the space between his body and hers.
“I don’t know why,” he said in a register deep enough to reach her toes, his cheek brushing hers, his lips dangerously close to her ear, “but I have an intense urge to tell man-walks-into-a-bar jokes right now.”
Edie smiled as she rested her head on his shoulder. It really was a nice shoulder, broad, strong, and the perfect height to pillow a forehead. How did he always manage to smell so good, too? Like wintry spices, cedar shavings, and something utterly unrecognizable, a heady mix of the cozy and the exotic.
“Plumber walks into a bar,” she said. “Asks what’s on tap.”
“Architect walks into a . . . never mind.” He laid his chin against her forehead. “I’m just going to enjoy this for a few minutes.”
They nestled against each other as the space Edie thought didn’t exist got even less exist-y. She closed her eyes and settled in to the gentle swaying motion, the solidity of Henry’s body, and the lilt of an earnest love song. Despite Henry’s careless games, heart-breaking schemes, and calculated flirtations, Edie allowed herself to trust that on this date, for this night, she could simply enjoy being held, free of confusion, free of fear.
Like all good things, the song eventually ended. A drumbeat kicked in, lights flashed, and the world leapt into motion. Edie suggested returning to the table. Glass slippers were pretty but they were probably meant for girls who sat down a lot. Henry escorted her across the dance floor with an arm around her waist. As they neared the perimeter, they passed Julia and W.B., bouncing, spinning, and flinging their arms with wild abandon. W.B. paused his gymnastics to say hi while Julia slowed to a standstill. Edie forced a smile, even though Henry’s hand suddenly felt like it was burning an imprint onto her waist. She was still trying to figure out what to say when Henry cleverly averted any awkwardness by suggesting that he and W.B. find some drinks while the girls had a moment alone. Fortunately Julia didn’t break down in tears as she so often had about Henry. She simply tipped her head against a pillar and watched the crowd swallow him, her expression wistful but resigned.
“‘Nothing serious,’ huh?” she asked.
“I’m sorry.” Edie shifted, her position as uncertain as it was indefensible. “I didn’t mean for anything to happen. Not that anything’s happened exactly, but, well . . .” She trailed off, lost once again about how to make words out of feelings.
Julia blew a sigh into her already disarrayed bangs.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to lie. I totally wish Henry was here with me tonight but he isn’t. And W.B. might not know any Shakespeare or look like a movie star, but it’s nice to be with someone who texts me back, who doesn’t make me compete for his attention, and who makes a little effort, you know?”
“Yeah.” Edie laid a hand on her heart. “I sure do.”
* * *
Somewhere around ten p.m., Claire and Sebastian finally made an appearance. They arrived just in time for Claire to win her tiara and share a dance with the square-jawed prom king from Holy Cross. Edie applauded along with everyone else, setting aside past resentments while Claire enjoyed her moment in the spotlight. Then she snuck away to use the restroom.
She was attempting to tame an errant eyelash when the door swung open and Claire entered with Taylor and Phoebe. Taylor wore a bandage dress. Phoebe went Grecian. Claire rocked a simple sheath made of beaded fringe, with bangles and sandals to match. She didn’t need to wear a tiara. She was a tiara. She paused as she spotted Edie. Then she strutted across the room, craning around as if she was searching for something.
“I want to make sure there are no boys,” she told the girls. “Edie likes making out in bathrooms. It’s probably the mirrors but that could be Henry’s influence.”
The girls laughed as Edie stopped fussing with her eyelashes. Taylor and Phoebe seemed to take the remarks in good fun but Claire narrowed her eyes just enough to lend her words an edge. Edie tried to ignore it but she prickled with defensiveness.
“We didn’t actually—” She halted there, trapped between truth and fiction.
Claire arched an eyebrow while flashing Edie the barest hint of a knowing smile.
“You didn’t what?” she challenged.
“Nothing. Never mind.” Edie jammed her compact into her purse. This was exactly why she shouldn’t lie. She always bumbled her way into the truth eventually, and usually at the worst possible times.
As the other girls stepped up to the mirror and began fixing their makeup, Edie swept her purse off the counter, ready to bolt. In her haste, she spilled the contents. She swiftly knelt to gather her things, though swiftness was relative in a massive ballgown and a precarious pair of heels. Phoebe helped her out while Taylor and Claire chatted about an afterparty they were both planning to attend.
“Sebastian’s being a mope,” Claire said. “But he’ll go if I ask him to. He knows it’s important to me. I’ll make it up to him later.”
“I’m sure you will,” Taylor teased.
“It’s my big night,” Claire boasted while adjusting her tiara. “And you know what they say about selfishness. It must be forgiven because there’s no hope for a cure.”
Edie hid her annoyance while grabbing her keys from under a sink. Sure, selfishness was forgivable, but what about manipulation?
Phoebe handed off Edie’s phone, the last of her scattered goods.
“Are you and Henry going to the party?” she asked as they clambered up.
“I don’t think so.” No one had invited Edie to an afterparty. The omission stung but it was also kind of a relief. Prom provided her plenty of time around crowds for one night, especially when Claire was among the throng.
“Edie and Henry have other plans,” Claire said through a trickle of laughter. “Unless you’re still holding out on him?”
Edie snapped her purse shut as her face burned. She could handle a bit of teasing about a supposed bathroom fetish. She could get past Claire’s gloating about Sebastian. But was Claire seriously pressuring her to have sex with Henry?
“My love life is none of your business,” Edie said.
Claire laughed as though she’d just heard the most amusing thing ever.
“Oh, Edie. I think we both know that’s not entirely true.”
Chapter Thirty-One
* * *
Edie did her best to let Claire’s insinuation go as everyone crowded around their table. Her best wasn’t perfect, but Henry was spectacular at distracting her with his flirty banter and steady attention. On the opposite side of the table, Claire regaled the group with cheerful chatter but Sebastian soon settled into a contemplative silence. While everyone else shared school memories and discussed post-graduation plans, he folded a paper napkin into a tiny square, only to unfold it and fold it again. He readily engaged in the conversation when someone addressed him directly, and he seemed perfectly content out on the dance floor where Claire draped herself on him like Sp
anish moss, but his eyes kept wandering to the corners of the room, betraying his discontent.
When the night started to wind down and a slow song came on, Claire whispered something to Sebastian. He tensed as his eyes skipped over the faces around him. He whispered something back, his expression stern, but Claire peppered him with kisses until she coaxed a smile out of him. Edie left them to it, desperate to focus her attention elsewhere, but a moment later, she looked up to find Sebastian standing beside her.
“Can I steal a dance?” he asked.
Edie glanced across the table, expecting Claire to throw down a subtle challenge, lure Sebastian away, or otherwise prove she had him wrapped around her little finger. Instead, Claire simply fluttered a little wave. Considering their conversation in the bathroom, Edie wasn’t sure why Claire suddenly felt like sharing her boyfriend. However, she doubted Sebastian would risk a dance unless he was certain it wouldn’t affect his relationship. If he wasn’t concerned, maybe she shouldn’t be either.
“Do you mind?” she asked Henry.
“Me? No. Of course not.” He smiled but his shifting eyes gave away his bluff.
“You said you didn’t lie.”
“As you so wisely put it to me once, there’s a first for everything.” He stood and patted down his pockets. “Well, I didn’t bring a sword, I failed to grow a mustache, and I don’t actually know what swashbuckling is, so I’ll just leave you guys to it while I take my jealousy out for a little fresh air.”
He turned to leave but Edie slipped her hand around his, holding him in place.
“Come back soon, okay?”
This time when he smiled, his eyes remained steadfast.
“You’re damned straight I will.”
He headed outside while Sebastian and Edie found a little pocket of space on the edge of the crowded dance floor. Unlike the last time they’d shared a dance, Sebastian’s posture was stiff. His arms were rigid. His hands barely brushed her waist. While Edie knew he’d always relegated her to the friend zone, she wondered if he’d demoted her to the distant acquaintance district.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “I feel like I’m dancing with the Tin Man.”
Sebastian’s eyes skated across the crowd while his shoulders twitched and tensed.
“Claire and I had a massive fight tonight,” he confessed. “We talked it out but I didn’t want to come. I hate pretending to be cheerful.”
“You’re a lousy pretender.”
“Which is why I avoid situations where I’m expected to be fun no matter what.”
Edie smiled to herself, recalling her first day back in Mansfield, when she’d met Sebastian by the fence, her ears ringing with endless urgings to cheer up. He hadn’t added another. He’d let her be awkward, bashful, sulky, and temperamental. He accepted her as she was, and she felt the same about him.
“You don’t have to pretend anything with me,” she assured him. “Be whatever you want to be, or whatever you need to be. Enough fun people are here tonight. This party can accommodate two people who are . . . undefinable.”
“Thanks, Edie. You’re the best.”
Second best, she thought, but she kept the words to herself.
Sebastian relaxed his hold as his shoulders finally settled and his expression softened. Edie tried to inch closer but he maintained his distance. They skirted a couple that’d stopped dancing in order to make out, and another that probably hadn’t even started dancing. They passed a dreamy-looking Julia, who was resting her head on W.B.’s shoulder, her eyes closed, softly smiling. As they found a bit of elbow room at the center of the dance floor, Sebastian began to fidget, inhaling like he was about to say something and then exhaling as though he’d changed his mind.
“So,” he finally managed, his voice straining above the music, “about Henry.”
Edie tensed as something prickled the back of her neck, something besides the chain from her necklace.
“What about Henry?”
“Claire asked me to talk to you about him.” Sebastian’s arm jerked as though he was dying to raise his hand to his head but he was forcing it to stay on her waist. “She thought I could reassure you that he’s a good guy. A great guy, actually, so maybe you should stop holding back and just go for it.”
Edie dropped her embrace and backed away, though space was scarce amid a crowd of couples who were only paying attention to each other. Sebastian tried to shove his hands into his pants pockets but his tux jacket was in the way. He let his arms rest by his sides while his fingers curled and flexed as if they didn’t know what to do without a line to trace or a place to hide. Edie simply gaped.
“Let me get this straight.” She parceled her words out slowly, taking her time so she could understand them, herself. “Claire asked you to convince me to . . . what? Fall for Henry? Sleep with him? Fly to Vegas for a weekend wedding?”
Sebastian cringed. All his not-quite-hinged-right joints came unpinned as his body collapsed in on itself and his six-foot-two frame suddenly looked about six inches shorter.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No shit.” Edie glanced toward their table but Claire wasn’t there. Apparently she was so sure of her agenda she didn’t need to bother watching it play out. No wonder she didn’t care if Sebastian asked Edie to dance. He wasn’t giving undue attention to another girl. He was moving in on an unsuspecting target, ready to sting like a spring-loaded trap. “God, she’s good. I’ll bet she’s laughing her perfect ass off right now.”
As Edie turned back to Sebastian, the music changed to strident techno and the dance floor erupted with movement.
“What are you talking about?” he shouted as a heavy-lidded girl stumbled into him and staggered back to her friends. “What would she be laughing at?”
“It’s a setup, Sebastian. Claire’s making fools of us both. She’s proving you’ll do anything she asks you to. She’s forcing me to take dating advice from the last guy I want to hear it from. And she knows I’m not going to fall for Henry because I’m in love with”—Edie stopped herself, barely—“someone else.” She stood stock-still, stunned by what she’d just said. She shouldn’t have said it. He shouldn’t have heard it. It shouldn’t be true, not after she’d tried so hard to let him go, to convince herself Henry was a better choice, or better yet, to convince herself she didn’t want anything from either of them.
Sebastian studied her, his lips parted, his forehead rippling in confusion.
“So, your date for the pool party . . . ?” he started.
Edie struggled to hold her stance, jostled among the crowd. She felt a powerful urge to extend her lie but she was sick of pretending, of holding her feelings inside, of sorting them out in her head rather than flinging them into the world and seeing how they landed. She’d come this far. He might as well know everything.
“I made him up,” she admitted.
“And the poker game? With Henry?”
“Total bullshit.”
Sebastian’s hand finally made its way to his head where his fingers tangled in his hair, pinching straw-colored tufts between his knuckles and raking toward the back of his neck. While he stood there, furrowing and fidgeting as though too baffled to do more, a twerking guy knocked Edie sideways. Her glass slipper bit into the side of her foot. She winced as she lost her balance. Sebastian reached out and took her arm. She met his eyes, startled by his sudden closeness. As he stared back, mute and unmoving despite all she’d laid bare to him, the clarity of her situation smacked her broadside. Sebastian wasn’t by her side to support her, to love her back, or even to be her friend. He was just following the orders of his goddamned girlfriend, the one he was never going to leave.
Something splintered inside Edie, something she’d grown tired of keeping whole.
“Thanks for the advice about Henry.” She yanked her arm free. “Consider it taken.” With that, she turned and stormed away.
“Edie, wait!” Sebastian called as he jo
gged after her.
Edie didn’t wait. She was done waiting. She sped up, elbowing her way through the crowd and running across the lobby until she burst out the front doors of the hotel. Desperate to ensure Sebastian didn’t extend their agonizing conversation for another second, she ducked into a nearby alcove with a stone bench that was probably meant for people awaiting a ride. She hid in the shadows until the sounds of Sebastian’s pursuit faded. Then she leaned back, feeling the rough brick against her bare shoulders and the warm spring air on her face, hoping simple, knowable things would help calm her down.
The entire night replayed in Edie’s head as her questions mounted. She’d been having a perfectly wonderful time with a perfectly wonderful guy. How had it come unraveled so quickly? Why did she say all that to Sebastian? She thought she’d moved on. She had moved on. Sort of. How could she have such intense feelings for two guys at once? And which feelings? All those little words looked so similar—like, love, lust—as if some long-ago lexicographer was deliberately trying to confuse people. What did any of them really mean? How was a girl supposed to know which was which? What was she supposed to do if she didn’t know? She couldn’t hide in an alcove forever.
As Edie tried to exhale her confusion one deep breath at a time, Claire and Henry walked past a few yards away.
“You’re kidding, right?” Claire chuckled, light and lilting.
“No, I’m not,” Henry replied, uncharacteristically serious.
“I thought you planned to make her fall for you, not the other way around.”
“I was such a jerk when I said that, but I didn’t know her then.”
“So you’re really in love with her?”
“Head over heels.”
As their voices faded and they entered the hotel, Edie sank onto the bench. Her hands trembled. Her pulse pounded. Her mind reeled as her thoughts and emotions stacked themselves one upon the other, too much to sort out in one night. So the guitar strings, the text-flirting, the romantic serenades, the afternoon outings, and the extravagant necklace were all part of a plot, a thorough deception cleverly calculated to break another heart. Of course they were. Nothing excited Henry more than a good challenge. Girls were something to woo, win, and toss aside. Edie should’ve known he planned to do the same with her. She felt stupid and naive, just another girl drawn in by a hot guy who knew how to make her feel wanted, liked, special.
Hearts, Strings, and Other Breakable Things Page 22