Finn stood by a table at the edge of the room, surreptitiously scanning the crowd for the waiter with the shrimp ceviche platter. He needed to pass that recipe along to his parents—he was sure it would increase their customer margin by at least 50%.
As he looked over the golden decor and high ceilings studded with antique-style chandeliers, he noticed Abby and Kieran chatting animatedly with Kieran's mother and a couple other well-dressed people. Kieran leaned down to whisper something in Abby's ear that made her laugh.
Finn found himself smiling as he watched the exchange, glad he'd been able to clear the air with both of them. If they were happy together, it wasn't his business to butt in and interrupt that.
A moment later, a flash of dark purple pulled his gaze to the side. His eyes traveled up the deep plum-colored dress, coming to a rest on the familiar raven-black hair, now elegantly coiffed, that belonged to none other than Eden Sayed.
Finn started in her direction, forgetting all about the ceviche platter. As if she'd sensed his gaze, she turned in his direction, and their eyes met.
Before he could call out a greeting, the crowd shifted and revealed the person standing next to Eden. He drew up short, nearly crashing into a waiter with a platter of champagne flutes.
Finn barely registered the waiter's stink-eye, distracted by the scene in front of him. He'd known Seth Al-Haroun would be here. He knew the other boy was technically Eden's date for this event. What he hadn't anticipated was how he would feel about seeing the two of them together.
Jealousy threatened to rear its ugly green head, but Finn refused to let it. He straightened his shoulders. Whatever the case, he was still allowed to say hi to a friend. And if Seth wanted to be a dick, well, Finn wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a response. Even if he wanted nothing more than to just sock him in the face.
He snorted at that thought. He had definitely been spending too much time with Cairo if he was thinking about getting into a fistfight over a girl. But Eden wasn't just any girl, and his feelings toward her seemed to have intensified since he'd realized he wanted to be more than friends.
Bracing himself for the confrontation, he took the final few steps toward their party, putting himself within eyesight of both Seth and Eden. The other boy narrowed his eyes, but Eden said something that made him roll his eyes and look away.
Finn walked up to the two of them with a smile on his face. "Hi Eden, Seth. How are you two doing?"
"Fine until you got here," Seth said. "Although having the hottest date in the room doesn't hurt."
Eden's polite smile never wavered. "Oh, I don't know. Kieran might give you a run for your money on that front. Abby looks lovely tonight."
"Yeah, her and Marissa both," Seth chimed in, looking in that direction. Finn followed his gaze to see that Marissa had indeed joined the group beside his best friend and sister.
He deliberately stepped to the left, blocking Seth's view of the other party. The last thing he needed or wanted to see was Seth ogling his sister. Time to change the subject. "Have either of you tried the shrimp ceviche? It's amazing."
Seth snorted. "You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, waiter boy?"
Finn barely suppressed an eye roll. How many times was Seth going to bring up that tired joke? He was just trying to make conversation, but clearly the other boy wasn't willing to put aside his attitude for even a single evening.
Eden must have noticed his mounting frustration. "Actually, Seth, I'd love to try some. Would you get me a platter, please?" She gave Seth a sharp smile that even he wasn't stupid enough to ignore. With a huff, he turned and waded through the crowd in search of the delicious appetizer.
"You're very intimidating sometimes, you know that?" Finn said.
"It's a gift." Her grin widened, morphing into the first genuine expression he'd seen from her all evening. His heart skipped a beat.
The real gift is you wearing that dress, he wanted to say, but that was too cheesy (and wildly inappropriate, as he thought of all the connotations of unwrapping and opening—even though that was exactly what he wanted to do), so he settled for something far safer. "You look beautiful, by the way. I hope I'm not the only person to tell you that tonight."
"Definitely not," she said, "but the first one I've enjoyed hearing it from." He wondered if he was imagining the flirty undertone of her response.
To distract himself, he nodded at the glass in her hand. "How's the champagne?"
Eden pursed her lips. Then, without warning, she tipped the flute back and downed the rest of the drink in one go. She set the glass down on a nearby table and turned back to him. "Let's dance."
Finn blinked. Her mood changes were going to give him whiplash. "Huh?"
"Can you salsa? Oh, maybe a tango would be better for this occasion. Or bachata!" She held out her hand. "It's a gala, isn't it? Dance with me."
He wanted nothing more than to take her hand, but logic won out. "First of all, I'm flattered that you want to dance with me, but I'm a white boy with absolutely zero rhythm and that is a sight no one wants to see. Second, how many of those have you had?"
Eden rolled her eyes. "I'm not drunk. I'm just tired of doing what everyone expects me to do." She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, including coming here with Seth.
Finn raised his eyebrows. "If you really want to dance, maybe we should have just gone to homecoming instead."
A look of approval crossed her face. "That's a great idea! Come on, let's go." She grabbed his hand, giving him no time to hesitate. His heart skipped a beat at the contact.
"I was only kidding," he protested half-heartedly as she started dragging him through the crowd. In reality, he'd happily go to homecoming if she kept holding his hand and smiling at him like that.
They passed several groups of people who eyed them in curiosity as Eden strode purposefully toward the exit. Finn spotted Seth heading their way, eyes narrowing as he saw the two of them together. He held a tray full of shrimp ceviches.
Eden snatched an appetizer off of the platter as they strode past him. Finn shrugged and followed suit, secretly enjoying the shade of red that Seth's ears were turning.
"Where are you going? Eden!"
She tossed a saucy grin over her shoulder, reveling in the weird looks from the other attendees they passed. "See ya, Seth!"
The two of them burst through the entrance doors and collapsed in a fit of giggles. "Did you see his face? That was priceless!" Eden exclaimed.
Finn raised his shrimp. "Cheers to that." The two of them clinked appetizers and downed them eagerly, ignoring the puzzled frown from the valet outside. This was Finn's favorite side of Eden—the carefree, rebellious side whose smiles flowed like honey and were twice as sweet. He never wanted this moment to end.
He checked his watch. "You know, if we leave now, we can probably still make it to the restaurant for dinner with the rest of the homecoming group."
Eden gave him a teasing look. "I thought you didn't want to go."
"Maybe I changed my mind."
"Then what are we waiting for? By the way, I expect to see those white boy dance moves later."
He shook his head with a smile. "What have I gotten myself into?"
Her eyes caught his, and she winked. "The best night of your night, obviously."
And as they headed for his car, Finn thought to himself, it already is.
————
I watched as Eden and my brother disappeared through the grand wooden doors of Union Station's entrance. Right as the door swung shut, there was the sound of shattering glass as the other boy who'd been chasing them crashed into a waiter with a tray of champagne flutes.
Shrimp ceviche and sparkling champagne splattered over anyone within a five-foot radius. I stifled a laugh at the outraged squawking from the people caught in the crossfire.
Kieran, noticing my reaction, glanced at the commotion. "Dios mío, that's going to be a pain in the ass to clean up. Trust Seth to just walk away from a mess that he caused."
My eyes widened. "That's Seth?" The boy in question shook his head with a sneer, brushing pieces of shrimp off his suit jacket with all the dignity he could muster (which wasn't much). "He doesn't look that impressive. I can't believe Finn let this twiglet bully him at work."
Kieran snorted. "Don't you also bully Finn?"
"That's not bullying, it's called building character."
He gave me a skeptical look. I grinned in response.
"Ugh, get a room," someone grumbled.
I'd forgotten Marissa was standing right next to us. Even in heels, she barely came up to my shoulder—or she would have, if I hadn't also been wearing tall heels. I bit the inside of my cheek and counted to three before responding. "Thanks for the advice. I'd be sure to take it into consideration."
She tossed perfect blonde curls over one shoulder with a huff. Her dress was a gorgeous off-the-shoulder design in a shade of pink I could never wear. Grudgingly, I admitted she looked like an elegant Disney princess, though the attitude sure as hell didn't match.
A nagging worry from the conversation Kieran and I had at the park the other day sprang up in my mind. He didn't suggest the fake break-up because he wanted to get back together with Marissa... right? For some reason, the thought sent a jolt of panic through me. I didn't think I could handle it if that was the reason. Then again, it wasn't like I had any sort of claim over Kieran or his feelings.
I was saved from spiraling deeper down this path when the ushers at the edges of the room began herding people toward the dining area. I'd never seen Union Station so elaborately decorated.
Pale gold tablecloths covered the tables, with a dazzling arrangement of white flowers as each centerpiece. Plates and silverware were laid out perfectly—props to the events team for getting the setup right. Fake trees glowing with soft white light lined either side of the hall, providing illumination for the embossed name cards on the tables.
The shuffling of hundreds of feet echoed on the marble floor as people searched for their seats. I followed Kieran's tall figure as he expertly navigated the crowds. Moments later, we arrived at table 16, which was toward the middle right side of the room.
Kieran and I took our seats, introducing ourselves to the already seated occupants of the table. I glanced at the name card to my right and nearly choked when I saw Marissa's name printed in gold lettering.
I nudged Kieran. "Hey, who's on your other side?"
"Finn, why?"
I reached over him. "Quick, switch cards with me before—"
"Before what?" came the voice of the devil herself. "Oh, is this my seat?"
Marissa Willingham slid into the seat next to me, giving me a saccharine smile. "Hi, Abby! So good to see you again."
There was no way I could switch seats with anyone now, not without leaving a horrible impression on the other primly-dressed people at the table. I gave her a tight-lipped smile in return. "You too, Marissa."
Kieran's hand suddenly found mine under the table, which was a nice surprise. He gave my hand a quick squeeze before dropping it. Without looking, I knew the gesture was meant to convey support—and a silent apology. Ever-so-slightly, I lifted one shoulder in a not your fault gesture.
Thankfully, the other gala attendees didn't seem to notice the tension at our end of the table. As the appetizers and drinks were served, the older gentleman sitting across from Kieran engaged him in a conversation about Spanish linguistics, which he had taught for several decades. I had to admit that even with several years of Spanish classes under my belt, I was woefully lost.
The only bit of the conversation I followed was when Kieran suddenly brought up the word "hoosegow", which was apparently a terrible Americanization of the Spanish word juzgado. How the hell he knew that, I had no clue.
"You're a nerd," I muttered under my breath, as the retired linguistics professor exclaimed that that was his go-to example of the interconnectedness of languages.
His hand landed on my thigh just above my knee. Heat from his palm radiated through the satin material of the dress, racing up to my face. I picked his hand up off my leg, intending to toss it back at him, but he intertwined his fingers with mine instead. I glanced over and noticed the barest hint of a smile on his face. He didn't let go until the food came, even when I tugged his hand in confusion.
All of that was soon forgotten as dinner progressed. We cracked jokes with the others at our table throughout dinner, and at one point I was laughing so hard I was sure I'd have a six-pack the next morning. Every so often, I'd glance over and catch Kieran smiling at me, dark brown eyes crinkled in the corners and that disarming dimple in his cheek.
My head was starting to hurt from all the mixed signals. Maybe he really was trying to make the most out of our last weekend of "dating," but why bother with this much effort at all? I couldn't make any sense of it.
I was so distracted by this conundrum that I barely even paid attention to the food, which was a shame because I was sure it was delicious. To my right, Marissa was fuming about the situation. Her frown had steadily deepened until she resembled the world's angriest Disney princess.
Finally, the servers came around one last time with dessert. I'd elected to go for the cheesecake, which was a rich, creamy affair plated to perfection and garnished with fresh berries. "It's almost too pretty to eat," I said.
My eyes met Kieran's, and I knew the exact moment the inappropriate joke popped into his mind. I opened my mouth to tell him off, already half-laughing.
Something cold and distinctly sticky landed in my lap. I froze, jaw dropping wider in horror. This better not be what I think it is.
"Mierda," Kieran swore.
That pretty much summed it up. I finally mustered the courage to look down, already mourning Antoine Giroux's beautiful dress.
A thick glob of vanilla ice cream and apple crisp had smeared itself across my thighs. Even as I watched, the ice cream slid off the dress and landed on the floor by my feet. The apple crisp left a less-visible mark, but I could already feel the satin sticking to the skin of my legs.
The server who had accidentally spilled the dessert looked horrified. My eyes traveled past his face and landed on Marissa's smug, gleeful expression. She didn't have to say a word for me to know this was her doing.
I stood up, fists clenched. The waiter paled, likely thinking I was about to cuss him out—which I would never do, no matter how rude they were—but I whirled on Marissa instead.
Before I could even get a word out, Kieran had stepped in between the two of us. He leaned down and said something to Marissa that caused her face to pucker like she'd just bit into a lemon, then excused us from the rest of the table with a winning smile.
I was still contemplating the pros and cons of kicking Marissa's ass right then and there, which Kieran seemed to sense. He started ushering me away from the table with a hand on the small of my back. "Come on, let's go."
I cast one last glare over my shoulder at the little blonde she-devil, reluctantly letting Kieran lead me away from the table. Before we left, I turned around and snatched the plate of cheesecake and a fork. I'd be damned if I didn't get to eat dessert after all of that.
Kieran snorted when he saw what I was holding, but wisely didn't say anything. We made our way to the entrance where Kieran passed his keys to the valet and asked him to bring his car around. To his credit, the valet didn't bat an eye at my dessert-stained attire and the plate of cheesecake I was currently devouring in an effort to stop myself from marching back inside and bitching out a certain 5'2 menace.
At least the cheesecake was good. It was a small consolation.