And my dress . . . my dress. The soft layers of tulle remind me of Rowan, but the bright, bright bloodred color is all Dee. And it’s strange, how all of this together feels like me. Like a version of me I never knew existed, but which I’d like to get to know.
Standing in front of a full-length mirror in the band’s personal trailer, I’ve never felt prettier in my entire life.
“I can’t even get over how gorgeous you look,” Dee praises, lifting the delicate red tulle away from my knees and watching the way it falls. Rowan brushes my bangs away from my face and smiles at me in the mirror.
“I can’t believe you made this dress,” I counter, and Dee’s gaze lifts from the skirt of it, finding my reflection.
“You need to let me borrow it so I can get a grade on it for school,” she says, “but after that, you can have it.”
“I can?”
The question comes out as a squeak, and Dee smiles. “Of course. I made it for you.”
“And you can have the shoes and leggings and jacket too,” Rowan adds, and when I frown, she assures me, “Mosh Records paid for those.”
“We put in a special request,” Dee explains with a smirk.
“How’d you know my shoe size?”
“I checked your boots after you fell in the pond,” Rowan confesses, and the girls both laugh, but I’m busy trying not to drown in emotion.
Even back then, they were planning this for me. Our scouting trip to the pond was two weeks ago, and it must have taken Dee even longer than that to make something this stunning. I can see her hard work in every stitch, every impossibly delicate layer of material. She sees my eyes welling with tears in the mirror, and she sternly shakes her head.
“Don’t you dare, Hailey. If you mess up your makeup—”
Rowan laughs and fans my face with her hands. “She means you’re welcome. Now calm down.”
“I’m sorry—” I start, but Rowan only fans me harder.
“Don’t be sorry. Just don’t cry. I don’t want you to mess up your makeup either. You look so pretty.”
“Mike is going to die,” Dee says, reminding me that I have to go back out there. I have to go back out in front of everyone—thousands of people, and one in particular—in a bloodred dress that’s impossible not to notice.
“Are you sure he’s going to like it?” I worry, and Dee raises an eyebrow at me in the mirror.
“What part of ‘He is going to freaking die’ did you not understand?”
Walking back toward the pond, I’m not convinced Mike is the one who’s going to die. My knees are week, my heart is racing, and I’m pretty sure that Rowan’s elbow linked with mine is the only thing keeping me moving.
“If this doesn’t make him proclaim his undying love for you,” Rowan says, “nothing will.”
I reply with a nervous chuckle, because I skipped over that little part when I told the girls about Danica bursting into his house the morning after I spent the night. His words just felt too big to repeat out loud.
I’m in love with you.
And he hasn’t said them since. Sometimes I wonder if he ever really said them at all, if maybe I imagined the whole thing.
As Rowan, Dee, and I walk back into the clearing, I can feel more than a few pairs of eyes on us—on Dee’s mini dress and long legs, on Rowan’s pretty blonde hair and blue eyes, on my bloodred dress and the black boots I’m desperately trying not to trip in.
“Oh. My. God!” A girl in a royal-blue tube top and long aquamarine skirt gapes as I walk past. “I love your dress!”
I smile at the expression on her face and thank her, and then, before we’re too far away, I shout, “It was designed by Deandra Dawson! Look her up!”
Dee beams as she continues walking, and I do my best to do her dress justice. I swallow my nerves, I straighten my posture, and I pretend to possess her unshakable confidence as we get closer to the pond.
Closer to Mike.
He’s standing with a group of fans, showing them the drumstick twirls I taught him, until one of the guys notices me over his shoulder. His eyes get wide, and when Mike follows his gaze, his do too. His drumstick slips from his fingers, dropping to the grass, and Dee and Rowan both giggle at my sides as they continue marching me to him.
He forgets all about his drumstick and meets me halfway.
“Wow,” he breathes, stealing all oxygen from the air. I’m breathless at the look in his eyes, but Dee isn’t impressed.
“Wow? Really? That’s the best you can do?”
Mike glances from her to Rowan, but Rowan doesn’t help him out. Instead, she grins as Dee lifts my hand into the air and twirls me around. Blushing fiercely, I spin for the man in front of me, and when Mike’s eyes meet mine again, they’re full of even more admiration than before.
“Try again,” Dee instructs him, and he doesn’t hesitate.
“You took my breath away,” he says, his voice full of veneration that I don’t think even Dee was expecting. I swear I hear her swoon beside me, and my cheeks are as red as my dress when she nudges me with her elbow.
“See, and you were worried he wouldn’t like your dress.”
There’s no word to describe the color my face turns. My skin flushes itself into a brand-new shade of just-kill-me-now, and Mike’s lips curve into a soft, amused smile.
“Can I take you for a walk?” he asks, and the prospect causes the butterflies in my stomach to riot.