Page 72 of Beauty and the Beach
“You be careful!” I laugh incredulously. “You were the one kissing the wrong girl.”
He snorts. “Believe me, I’ve learned my lesson.”
His lesson. Perfect.
“Let’s stop talking,” I say. “I’ve now been referred to as amistakeand alesson,and while I get what you’re saying, my pride is severely wounded.”
His exhale seems to take several inches off his height. “Holland?—”
“I’m serious,” I say, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Pleaselet’s stop talking about it.”
I don’t look away as his gaze darts over my face, because my shredded dignity won’t let me; I just hold his eyes until finally he nods.
“Fine,” he says.
We finish the dance in awkward silence, and when the music ends, we let go of each other as though we’ve been electrocuted. Though we don’t discuss where we’re going, somehow we both gravitate toward Trev, who’s waving to someone and smiling as they head for the ballroom doors.
“I need to keep mingling,” Trev says when we reach him. “I still need to go thank a few of the donors who weren’t here yet earlier. Come with me,” he adds to Phoenix, looking anxiously around the room. “Stand next to me and look dignified and wealthy.”
“Dignified and wealthy,” Phoenix says in a dry voice, a hint of a smile flitting over his lips. “Got it.”
“We’ll be back, Holl,” Trev says. “Eat some more hors d’oeuvres.”
“I ate everything but the mushroom ones,” I say. “Am I allowed to get more of the little cheese balls?”
He nods and waves toward the long table in the back of the ballroom. “Go. Get more cheese balls.”
More cheese balls. Excellent.
I lose track of how long I sit at the table by myself, but it feels like forever. I’m too embarrassed to get a third helping of cheese balls, so I don’t; a while later dinner is served anyway, and everyone returns to their seats. I eat my salad quietly and speak only when someone talks directly to me; the hours pass painfully slowly until finally,finally,people begin to leave.
Not us, apparently, but other people. Trev, Phoenix, and I stay until we’re some of the last, and my toes are numb in my shoes, and there are blisters on my heels.
The blisters feel bigger than they actually are—like they’re covering my entire heel—and by the time we’ve helped take down a large portion of the decorations, they’re throbbing painfully. I’m also feeling very stupid, because this must be the real reason Trev begged us to come along: he wanted help with take-down duty.
When we finally head outside and get our car from the valet, Trev passes me the keys.
“We’ve both had champagne,” he says when I look blankly at him. “So you’re driving. Why are you glaring at me?”
“Have you ever tried driving in a dress and heels?” I say to him, narrowing my eyes. Then I sigh. “Get in, I guess. Come on—everybody in.”
“You don’t need to herd us,” Phoenix says with a frown. “We’re not completely inebriated.”
“Just saydrunklike the rest of us,” I mutter under my breath. “Get in; I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
The shoes finally come off when I’ve settled myself in the driver’s seat, Phoenix in the passenger seat and Trev in the back.
“Take care of my sister up there,” Trev says sleepily from his seat, patting Phoenix on the shoulder.
“I promise,” Phoenix says, his voice dry.
I give Trev ten minutes before he’s asleep.
We begin the drive home, the car dark and silent. The roads aren’t great; it’s not raining anymore, but there’s standing water that makes me nervous.
A tickle of foreboding crawls up my spine.
I slow our pace, and Phoenix either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care; I think he’s awake, but he’s staring out the window.
