I watched the awkward scene unfolding, uncertain why this is what counted for romance these days.
I mean, I liked sharing memes with my favourite people as much as the next seventeen-year-old. I liked listening to music. I was partial to seeing new movies and talking about the new shows that dropped on streaming that month. I wasn't totally out of time.
But the display on the quad would continue to confuse me until my dying day. I didn't understand flash mobs, I disliked overly public displays of affection, and I would never understand promposals.
We didn't have a 'prom'. We had a formal.
We didn't have courts or kings or queens. We had a sit-down dinner and an after party that was the real main event.
Our entire school existence didn't seem to hinge on that one event, and yet some of us couldn't resist taking up yet another strange US tradition when Australian ones suited us just fine.
"How long do you think they practiced that?" Alex asked from usual his position at my side.
I shrugged. "Given Dean's dance ability, he's been working on that since Year Seven."
"At least all day every day for the whole holidays," Alex replied.
I snorted and we shared a knowing smile.
We'd been best friends forever. We'd met on the first day of Junior School and been inseparable since I'd tried to punch the Year Three kid who was trying to steal his lunch and given myself a blood nose.
He was the light to my dark. All sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes. He was miles taller than me, but built. Years of water polo practice had given him an enviable set of muscles on him, and soccer kept him fit in winter. He was all jock, and I was all nerd. Not really even the smart kind. I was the cardigan-clad, future-spinster, librarian kind. But it seemed opposites attracted even platonically.
"That's not fair," Nicole said, failing to hide the humour in her voice. "It's nice that he wanted to be romantic."
Alex and I shared another knowing look, this one tinged with a lot more nerves than the last one.
Nicole and Alex had been dating for three years, but she and I had only really bonded earlier the previous year, and she had since become my closest confidant for all those things that Alex was useless at. It had been about the time they'd finally gone all the way, and I think she'd realised that she and Alex were a lot more serious than either of them had realised before that. It was adorable and, had I not loved Alex as much as I did, I would have teased him much less about being all-but old and married while still in school.
Nicole was one of those typically beautiful people. She was warm and affectionate...once you got her past her initial reticence. She was a kind but shy person by nature, and didn't like putting people out or getting in the way. Her hair was naturally a light blonde and her eyes were brilliant hazel. She was almost as tall as Alex, and curvaceous. I hadn't met a person who didn't like her immediately, even the kids who defined themselves as being the outcasts.
"I asked you to the formal," Alex reminded her.
Nicole snorted. "We were watching the Kissing Booth and, during the formal scene, you decided he should have been wearing a waistcoat that matched her dress and told me we were doing that."
Alex looked around at us for support. "Does that not count?"
Wyatt smirked. "You can't let the romance die this early, mate. Someone else will come and woo her out from under you."
Wyatt finished our little group. Where Alex and Nicole were the serial monogamists and I was the serial spinster, Wyatt was the serial dater. And dating there was used in the loosest term possible. About as loose as the button on Wyatt's pants. He was all lazy suave and sophistication, able to seduce anyone with effortless charm. He had dark brown hair, and amber eyes, framed by luscious lashes. He was average height, and lithe. He liked to say his bedroom shenanigans kept him fit, but I suspected there was a little more to it than that.
"You haven't got a chance in hell," Alex said, but there was no real animosity between them.
Wyatt gave him a withering look. "Only because I'm too much of a gentleman to make a move on someone else's partner."
"That's bullshit," I laughed. "You totally hooked up with Rich even though he and Nick were totally together."
Wyatt shrugged. "It's not my fault Rich cheated. I didn't make him."
"Please," Nicole begged me with a smile. "Don't make Wyatt admit he actually likes Alex and doesn't want to hurt him."
"No," I agreed. "Let him think we believe he has morals. Far better than us thinking he cares about his friends."
"You think you're ever so clever, don't you?" Wyatt asked me and I grinned at him.
A smile tugged at the corner of his dour lips.
The guy prided himself on being enigmatic, a brooder. It was his brand. It was just a shame that I was too irresistible. He ran his tongue over his teeth in an effort to stave off the smile, and it was enough time to get control over himself.
"Have you asked anyone?" Alex asked Wyatt.
"To the formal?" Wyatt clarified and Alex nodded. "No. Who knows who'll take my fancy at the after party. Best go stag and not be locked into anything."
Nicole gave him a discouraging but amused smile. "How about you, Vi?" she said.
"Have I asked anyone to the formal? No, of course not, I have the social skills of Mary Bennet."
She rolled her eyes, but her smile was loving. "Has anyone asked you?"
"I think her previous statement covers that," Alex said and I nudged him none too gently, and he laughed. "What? You're not wrong. You'll probably bore him with the benefits of muslin and make him go ribbon shopping."
"You're confusing your Austens," I told him.
He snorted. "Sorry. We can't all be experts."
There was no need to voice the reminder that I was the weird one who fantasised about things that most people my age did not. We all knew I was the weird BFF from 10 Things I Hate About You, only my obsession was Regency, not Shakespeare.
"We don't need to be. We have Violet for that," Wyatt said, humour dancing in his eyes.
It was difficult not to be attracted to Wyatt. I didn't know anyone at our school that hadn't thought about it at least once. He just exuded that kind of...magnetism. But excuse me if I wanted more than the occasional casual, mind-blowing night. I wouldn't pass it up if it were ever offered, I was just on the lookout for more.
"Leave her alone," Nicole chuckled. "Besides, I see what she sees in them."
I nodded to her. "Yeah, you liked season two."
"Season two was...ohmigod." She mimed her mind blowing and then swooning.
Alex rolled his eyes and leant back on his hands. "Yeah, thanks for that, Vi."
I gave him a cheesy grin. "You are welcome. It wouldn't hurt you to have new heights to aspire to."
"My...heights..." Alex said, uncertain how far he was going, "are quite good enough, thank you."
Nicole patted his shoulder. "Of course, they are."
But I knew Nicole was on my side. At least when it came to season two of Bridgerton. Like the rest of the world, we too had fallen in love with Anthony and Kate. I'd already been obsessed with Regency romance, and I didn't see why we shouldn't hold modern guys more accountable to Regency standards.
I'd loved Darcy since I was nine. I thought a more swoon-inducing man could never exist. I'd questioned my devotion when I'd met Theo James' Sidney Parker. Then Anthony Bridgerton had walked onto my screen and my expectations – and fantasies – were never going to be the same.
It was all my Granny Meg's fault. She introduced me to Austen soon after my eighth birthday. She was sick, and it was our thing. We watched the adaptations together, and I read to her as her eyesight failed. I enjoyed sharing in something that meant so much to her. After she died, I kept it up and my love deepened. It was a way to keep her close to me, to remember her and the times we had together.
"But, formal, Vi..." Nicole pressed me. "Any contenders?"
I rolled my eyes at her. "I don't think you guys comprehend just how lucky you are that the person you liked didn't just like you back, but hasn't stopped liking you back," I told them.
Alex gave me a knowing smile. "Fictional people can't like you back, Vi."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Thank you. I wasn't being specific. I just meant..." I waved my hand vaguely, "generally."
"Sure you did. Because you've liked someone besides one of your Regency blokes."
I pointed at Wyatt. "I liked Wyatt."
"Hey," he argued, "I liked you back."
"And yet, we're not dating," I said, like that was proof of anything relevant.
"The whole school thinks you are," Nicole said.
"Not the point," I told her.
"Did you want us to date?" Wyatt asked suggestively.
I looked at him pointedly. "Yeah, no. I will take a hard pass on that one."
"I thought you already did," Alex laughed, and Nicole elbowed him on my behalf.
Wyatt winked at me. "You know we're better as friends."
And we were. Wyatt and I might have hooked up a couple of times over the years, but whatever we were, it wasn't romantic. We were, at most, an attraction that flared when we were bored. When there was no one else to hook up with, and things got a little too flirty, our lips had a way of finding each other. But Wyatt was not relationship material and he was certainly no Viscount Bridgerton.
"How's this?" Wyatt offered. "I'll escort you, big brother style, leaving us both free to explore our options should we wish to."
I looked to Nicole, because my agreement wasn't what was required here. She was on a mission to see all her nearest and dearest happy in their lives. She knew that Wyatt was happy – he was living his absolute best life, picking and choosing his hook ups and sowing as many wild oats as possible before he accidentally suffered finding the one he couldn't let go.
I was the problem.
I wasn't unhappy, but it was no secret that I wanted the one thing I'd never be able to have. I wanted my own cravat wearing, horse-riding, fencing minor lordship to sweep me off my feet. I was probably the disappointment of all feminists everywhere, but I couldn't help what did it for me. And I wanted to be wooed.
The siren for the end of recess sounded and we picked ourselves up of the patch of grass that we'd inhabited since the start of Year Eight. I pulled Wyatt up, and Alex pulled Nicole up before wrapping his arm around her shoulder. And we headed towards the building's side door that would get us from our current position to our closest destination the quickest.
"So, if Wyatt's going to escort Vi, do they have to match, or...?" Alex asked.
Nicole batted him. "No, of course not."
"What?" he asked. "I thought it was a legitimate question."
"Ugh, I refuse to be seen in that colour," Wyatt answered.
I nudged him. "You don't even know what colour my dress is."
"What colour's your dress?"
"I haven't got one yet."
"Well, I don't need to see it to know I wouldn't be caught dead in it," Wyatt said as Alex and Nicole both rounded on me with a, "What?"
I shrugged. "What, what? I didn't even know if I'd be going."
"How could you think you might not be going?"
I pointed at her and Alex. "Because you guys are...you guys, and Wyatt's Wyatt."
"Really specific, Violet," Wyatt said.
Nicole scoffed. "Alex and I will match, but you know it'll be like we're all going together anyway. How could you think you were missing our last formal?"
"It's technically our first formal, too," I reminded her.
"That is not helping your argument," Nicole said pointedly.
"Okay, fine. I'll go get a dress this weekend–"
"You mean, we'll go get a dress this weekend."
I sighed and nodded. "Sure, Nic. We'll go shopping this weekend."
"Just promise you'll get something red or blue," Wyatt said. "Yellow washes me out. Peach clashes with my eyes. And purple is not happening."
"Sure. Don't worry about my skin tone or anything," I muttered.
Wyatt patted me on the shoulder. "You can pull off blue or red," he assured me.
"Great. Any more requirements for my outfit?" I sassed as we got to the door.
As I went to pull the door open, another hand darted out and took hold of the handle before I had a chance. My hand paused and I looked up into the ice blue eyes of Penn Franklin. It was impossible for my heart not to bounce around my rib cage like it didn't know which way to turn.
Everything about Penn was intense, and almost all of it was in a good way. It seemed the summer holidays had only served to make everything he already was...just so much more.
Like Wyatt, he was just all easy charm and one look from him could make you melt with sexual tension. He had this way of looking at you and you could practically see the dirty things he was planning to do to you. Even if was actually thinking about that week's water polo match, or an upcoming test, or just what he was going to have for lunch, it still felt like he wasn't just undressing you with his eyes, but licking every single part of your body.
Which was exactly how he was looking at me as we held up school traffic.
I liked to think I was a strong, sassy, modern female. I liked to think I was whip-smart and gave Lizzie Bennet a run for her money. But standing there with Penn's smouldering heat laser focussed on me, my brain went totally blank. It always went totally blank around him. Had I not been in such heavy denial, I'd have said that I wasn't all that witty after all.
Penn Franklin made me a total Lydia.
"Violet," he said, and I thought my knees were going to buckle.
It was the first day of the school year and I was already going weak in the knees.
God, what's wrong with me?
What was wrong with me was the same thing that was wrong with me whenever I found myself in the vicinity of an attractive someone and especially when that someone was Penn Franklin. The only reason I didn't melt around Wyatt – anymore – was because I spent so much time around him that I'd become comfortable with him. Forced close quarters and all that.
But Penn wasn't Wyatt.
Penn was nearly six foot of rippling muscles – yeah, I went to water polo practice, I saw some the games – light brown hair and a sexy, cocky arrogance that made me nervous just seeing him across the quad. Penn did things to my insides that Wyatt had never been able to manage. Penn did things to my insides that Anthony Bridgerton could do to me in his sleep.
When I couldn't find a single word in response to something as simple as my name, the cheekiness in Penn's eyes and at his oh-so-kissable lips rose tenfold. He pulled open the door and held it open for me.
"Violet," was all he said like he knew – knew – what just my name at his lips did to me.
I pushed my glasses up my nose and my feet refused to move until Wyatt shoved me in the back.
"Let's go, Violet," he said, then turned his attention to the hulking figure that was Penn. "Down, boy."
Penn smirked at Wyatt. "You worried you're not enough to keep your girlfriend?" he teased, his voice telling us that he didn't believe a word of it.
Wyatt gave him a sarcastic fawning laugh. "Yes. That's definitely it."
Wyatt's voice held all the witty rebuttal he needed. His confidence was such, that no one listening doubted that he was more than enough to keep whoever he wanted. And I was sure that, when Wyatt found his match, he'd have no trouble keeping them. When that man put his mind to something, he got what he wanted.
Penn and Wyatt faced off around me like they were actually fighting over me, although I knew that was ridiculous. No one fought over people who seemed to get their clothes, accessories and personalities from Librarian Weekly. But they'd find a reason to face off, even if it was little old me. It was a silent battle of wills and unyielding confidence, that only ended when I sneezed and Penn looked at me again.
"Violet," he said again.
I nodded, wiped my nose on my sleeve, and ducked into the building.
When my friends and I were inside, I snuck a look back and saw Penn standing just inside the building, watching us leave. I finally took a deep breath and determined to put Penn out of my head for as long as possible.