"I think you'd like to know that I just got asked to the winter carnival."
His brows lower, and it's like a shadow takes over his face. "Who?" he growls, the fierceness in his tone not something I've ever heard from him before.
I go to shove him again, pure anger heating my cool skin. He wraps his hands around my wrists, his long and strong fingers warm even though he's been sitting out in the cold for at least ten minutes. "Who?" he questions.
The tone in his face automatically makes me answer him. "It was Travis."
His eyes widen, rage lighting his brown eyes to gold. "Travis Schwinn?" he roars.
"I told him yes!" I rip my wrists from his hold, shoving him away in the process. "You told him, and everyone else for that matter, that they couldn't ask me out. You have been making me feel like a leper for years, all for your own happiness? I thought I was some freak because no guys talked to me, no guys wanted to hang out with me. Now, I come to find out you've been pissing a circle around my leg?"
I kick snow toward him, and it puffs into dust instead of chucking at his legs like I’d hoped. "I told him yes."
He laughs. "No."
"I'm going with him." I smile. "And I don't care if you like it or not." I take a step away from him, ready to rush home and get away from him before he lures me back.
Healwayslures me back.
His soft words and his calming, protective presence make me melt around him. I'm nothing but weak when it comes to Roman Hall. He has a power over me no one ever could. I'm a crumbling petal in his strong hand.
"You've never gone to a dance without me. We've always gone together.Every. Single. Time.Now you plan to take TravisfuckingSchwinn? I don't think so, Luna. Over my dead fucking body."
I hear the bell ring across the street, and only a minute later are kids flooding out of the doors. I take a step away from him, hating that he's hurt me like this. That he's kept me from experiencing what every girl should experience. I would choose Roman every time, no question. But he never gave me the chance or trusted me enough to believe he'd always be my number one.
And that's what hurts the most.
"I don't think you really have a choice in that matter." I see Nora start to cross the street with a curious look on her face. I know she'll want to know what happened, she always is nosy when it comes to mine and Roman's relationship. She thinks we're going to get married someday, and I usually never deny her claims.
I've always wanted to marry Roman too.
But today, right now, that's the last thing I want to do.
I turn away from Roman and Nora, speed walking toward my house. I ignore both of them shouting my name. Telling me to wait. Nora asking me what's wrong. Nora screaming at Roman for being an asshole. I ignore them as I walk home. I don't answer the door later, or the window tap late at night. I tell my mom that I don't feel good. Because I don't. I feel terrible.
It feels like I'm falling apart, my body like the tied ribbon of my ballet slippers. One easy pull, and I'll collapse into a pile of nothing.
"You look so pretty, Luna," Nora says from beside me. We're standing in my bathroom, dolled up for the winter carnival.
"Ugh, I don't know." I look down at my dress. It's a faded pink, almost creamy in color. The satin fabric goes down to my ankles. The neckline is high, all the way to my collarbones. The sleeves are sheer, save for the two small scraps of satin strips separating the fabric. It's pretty, and my mom made it, so even if I didn't like it, I'd be forced to wear it.
Nora stands beside me in a satin red dress. A big thing that flares at the waist and has a large bow on her hip. Puffy sleeves cap her shoulders and look like oversized marshmallows.
"Are you sure you don't want to wait for him?" she asks, readjusting a curl from her up-do.
She's talking about Roman.
The first thing she told me when she walked in was that Roman was getting ready and planning to take me to the dance.
Hell no.
"I'm not waiting for him. I'm going to the dance with Travis." I run my hand down my dress, from my chest to the tops of my thighs. The dress is light and cool against my skin, the shiny fabric gentle as it kisses my body.
I watch as she frowns through the mirror. She doesn't like that we're fighting. She never likes us fighting.
"Knock, knock." My mom walks in with her Polaroid camera. She's been excited all day for the dance. Finishing last minute hemming on the bottom, helping me curl my hair into a subtle wave. I decided to leave it down, and it cascades down my back. "Wow, you guys look so pretty. Are you ready to go?"
"I'm ready." I take one last glance in the mirror and turn to my mom. "Ready to go?"