Sacred (25 page)

Then Lily rapped at the bathroom door, and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.

What was the matter with me? I was at my best friend’s killer house, getting ready for my first date with a boy I
couldn’t stop thinking about, a boy who’d told me that he was
pulled
to my
body
. And I couldn’t stop my thoughts from turning to death and decay.

As I sat in front of Lily, watching in the mirror as she braided and twisted my hair, I was blinded by a flash of intuition.

I was afraid. Because I knew that tonight, Will and I would kiss. And even though I was already head over heels for Will, when we kissed it would become a thousand times more real, more intense, and ultimately, more painful when we parted.

For we
would
part; I knew we would. It didn’t feel like pessimism that I thought this, or a bad dream. It felt instead like foresight … premonition.

And I looked so beautiful, like a framed portrait in the water-blue dress, my blond hair braided and wrapped in a low twist to show the milky, naked plane of my back.

I looked into the eyes reflecting back at me, and I thought,
Those are the eyes of a girl who has seen pain; those are the eyes of a girl who will see much, much more of it
.

And then I blinked, and the portrait was again a mirror, and I was just a girl all dressed up for a school dance.

Our dates arrived to pick us up from Lily’s house right on time. After much deliberation, Lily had decided that the honor of being her escort should go to Connell. Why she would choose Connell was beyond me, but when I’d pressed Lily about her choice, she only said that she thought it might be “entertaining” to go with him. Of course, this meant that
they would be having dinner with Andy and Kaitlyn. A few days ago, this had been fine with me—I was looking forward to a long, uninterrupted evening alone with Will. But suddenly I found myself wishing that Lily would be having dinner with us, even if that meant being saddled with Connell’s obnoxious company.

We heard the doorbell ring from up in Lily’s room, and we descended the long staircase together.

There waited our dates; they must have just happened to get to the house at the same time, because there was no way Will and Connell would have planned to arrive together.

Connell looked like a character out of some cheesy show from the 1970s: his wide-collared pink shirt was unbuttoned, his pants looked a size too tight, and his hair was slicked back. He whistled long and low as we came down the stairs.

Lily looked amazing. Her curls were riotous and her dress floated around her, ending just above her knees so the view of her awesome black boots was unobstructed. I had to hand it to her: the boots totally made the outfit.

Her dress was halter-style, tying behind her neck, and the neckline was at least PG. Her parents didn’t seem to notice; they stood at the bottom of the staircase smiling widely and snapping pictures.

Will stood in the door, framed by the dying light of day. Then he stepped inside and closed the door.

He wore a full suit—jacket, tie, the works—and the cuffs of his sleeves glittered with gold cufflinks. His tie was just a few shades darker than my dress, and in his hands, he held a small box.

He smiled at me as I came down the stairs. His green eyes were dark tonight, full of an emotion I couldn’t name. “You look beautiful, Scarlett,” he said, not embarrassed at all to say this in front of Lily’s parents.

“Thanks,” I said, reaching the bottom of the stairs. He handed me the box. It was light; inside was a white orchid attached to a thin band of freshwater pearls.

“It’s a wrist corsage,” he told me, “but after the flower dies, you can still keep the bracelet part.”

I slipped it on my wrist. The flower’s fragrant smell wafted up to my face. I knew that for the rest of my life, every time I smelled an orchid, I would think of this moment.

“Smile, kids,” ordered Jack, who was clearly relishing the role of photographer.

Will slipped his arm around my waist, his jacket brushing against the bare skin of my back. We smiled awkwardly while Jack snapped our picture.

“Okay, okay, let the kids get out of here, they don’t want to spend their whole night hanging out with us.” Laura sounded like she might start crying. These things always made her so emotional. But as we turned to leave, I noticed her grab Jack’s sleeve and whisper something to him.

“Just a minute, boys, before you go …,” he said.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Scarlett and I will wait on the porch, okay, Daddy, while you give them your little talk?”

On the porch, Lily asked me if her lipstick was on straight.

“You look great,” I assured her.

“I can’t
believe
I have to sit through a whole dinner with Kaitlyn Meyers,” she groaned. “What will we possibly have to say to one another?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I answered. “Hey, what’s your dad saying to them in there?”

“Just the usual. You know. Keep your hands where they can be seen at all times, no heavy petting, yada yada.”

My eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

Lily shook her head, her dark curls bouncing prettily around her face. I had the feeling she knew exactly how charming that gesture looked. “Nope. Daddy’ll put the fear of God in them, all right.”

The door opened and Will and Connell joined us on the porch, Will looking amused, Connell swallowing nervously.

“Ready to go?” Lily reached out to take Connell’s hand, but he got suddenly busy looking for something in his pocket.

Will took my hand easily, and I waved goodbye to Lily as we headed in opposite directions with our dates. She and Connell were headed downtown to the island’s fanciest restaurant, a seafood place on the water.

I didn’t know where Will and I were going.

“So, where exactly are we headed?” I asked.

Will smiled. “You’ll see.”

“How about a clue? Just a little one?”

“You’re awfully impatient,” Will said.

“Yeah, well, I’m not really a big fan of surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.”

He led me down several blocks, and it seemed to me that I’d willingly go wherever he led, as long as he continued to hold my hand and rub his thumb back and forth across the palm of my hand.

How was it that such a tiny movement—the brush of his thumb, featherlight, against the center of my palm—could
ignite such a blazing fire of indescribable yearning in the pit of my stomach?

There was my house, up the street on the left. Probably we were just taking the long way into town, to avoid walking with Lily and Connell.

But then we reached my front gate and Will stopped.

“Here we are,” he said.

I blinked. “Are you kidding?”

He grinned. “Come on,” he said. “I promise you’ll love it.”

At least he didn’t lead me up the steps to my front porch. Instead, he led me down the path that twisted around the house, to the back garden. There was our white gazebo, threaded thick with white lights, a table for two set in the middle of it. Soft music filled the garden, and little twinkly candles floating on the koi pond made the whole scene magical.

I turned and gazed at Will. His green eyes were shining in the moonlight, in the candlelight. “You’re right,” I said. “I do love it.”

“Wait till you taste dinner.” He led me up the gazebo’s steps and pulled back a chair for me. Then he sat across from me. He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Don’t be mad.”

“Why would I possibly be mad?”

And then my dad came out the back door, a white apron tied around his waist, carrying the tray we used for serving cheese and crackers to our guests.

“My dad is the waiter.” It wasn’t a question.

“Are you mad?”

I shook my head.

“Good. He volunteered. He thought it might be fun.”

That cleared up one thing that had been bothering me—why my father had been okay with me getting ready for the dance at Lily’s house.

“Hi, Daddy,” I said as he climbed the steps to the gazebo.

“Good evening, miss,” he answered, doing a pretty good job of keeping a straight face. “Would you care for a sparkling water?”

“Sure.”

He placed a tall goblet in front of each of us. “Dinner will be served shortly.”

He turned to go, but before he made it down the stairs, he turned back to me. “You look great, Scar,” he said.

“Thanks, Daddy.” I turned to Will. “I hope my dad didn’t cook dinner. He burns everything.”

“Nope. He’s just serving. I cooked.”

The image of Will working in our kitchen came to me like a flash—bubbling pots, sizzling pans, fresh produce piled in the sink.

“Have you been here all day?”

“Since ten this morning.”

“You got ready here and everything?”

“Your dad put me in the Yellow Room again.”

So he was staying the night.

“I think he puts me in the Yellow Room because it’s the farthest from the stairs up to yours,” he confided.

“That didn’t stop us last time,” I reminded him.

“Well,” he said, “I get the feeling he may be up listening for us tonight.” And he leaned across the table and into me, his lips soft and warm on my neck, just below my ear. I shivered at his touch.

My dad banged the back door open loudly, and Will sat back, smiling crookedly.

Dinner was delicious. There was salad with a dressing Will had made himself; thin-sliced fillets of steak drizzled with some kind of marinade; fresh, steamed vegetables from Martin’s garden; and a basket full of steaming heart-shaped rolls.

“Did you make these?” I asked, holding up one of the rolls.

Will nodded, sheepish. “I know they’re corny,” he said, “but I couldn’t help myself.”

Dad disappeared after he’d served the food, letting us know that he’d be upstairs for the rest of the night. I was glad my bedroom, not his, overlooked the garden.

When we’d finished eating, Will stood and reached out his hand to me. I dabbed my mouth with a napkin and joined him. We walked down to the pond and watched the flickering candles floating on the water. Will’s hand was on the small of my back where the dress dipped to its lowest point. His touch was warm and exquisitely gentle.

Then a new song started to play, something achingly beautiful and slow. Will grasped my hand with his and turned me toward him, and we began to dance—not well, but together, and the warm length of his body pressed against me in my thin water-dress, and I felt the scratchy fabric of his coat sleeve against my back, and the hot exhalation of his breath against my ear.

I closed my eyes and still saw the fire of the floating candles behind them, and when the song ended and Will stopped moving, his green eyes gazed down into mine. He cupped my cheek in his hand so gently, as if I were sacred. He leaned in closer, and I was sure he was going to kiss me.

But just before his lips brushed against mine, Will must have sensed me stiffening in his arms, because he stopped, his mouth just inches from mine, and asked, “Do you want me to kiss you, Scarlett?”

I did. I wanted his kiss so desperately. But I said, “If you kiss me, Will, then everything will change. And if you leave me, then it might hurt too much to bear.”

“Oh, Scarlett,” Will said, his voice husky with emotion, “I’m not the leaving kind. I’m the hero type, remember?”

And so I tilted my face up toward his, and when his lips touched mine, the current that coursed through my body shifted me inexorably, and I felt like someone who had only half seen the world and awakens one day to find that it is much more beautiful, more rich and deeply articulated than she could have ever dreamed. But as the kiss deepened and Will crushed me against his body, I knew too that this kiss sealed me to Will in a way that would make it infinitely more painful when he left.

I tangled my hands in his beautiful curls, and I shut my eyes, and I gave myself over to the kiss, to Will, to the night.

When we finally arrived at the dance, we found that the party was well under way. A disco ball hung in the center of the Casino’s ballroom, flashing dazzling points of light across the dancers.

Lily was dominating the dance floor, spinning herself in wild circles around a completely embarrassed Connell. He didn’t seem to know what to do with his feet or where to put his hands, though I’d bet that the latter problem had more to do with Jack’s “little talk” than a lack of imagination on Connell’s part.

Lily’s body looked like a smorgasbord of places for a teenage boy to put his hands, actually. Her dancing had loosened the bow of her dress and its neckline had gained at least a couple of inches since I’d last seen her, definitely ratcheting up her earlier PG rating to a solid PG-13, and some of her moves put her dangerously close to an R. Her wild curls flew as she tossed her head and laughed, and she was doing this thing with her hips that even seemed to be distracting the male teachers who were chaperoning the dance.

“Hey, Scar’s here!” Lily called out when she caught sight of me, and she waved me over. I pretended she was just waving to say hi rather than indicating that I should join her, and I pulled Will toward the punch bowl, hoping Lily would lose focus and forget I was there.

No such luck. Lily sashayed through the crowd and leaned in to kiss my cheeks in her favorite Italian gesture. “What took you so long?” she asked, teasingly.

“Hi, Lily. Having fun?”

“Always,” she answered. “Come on, dance with us.”

“I don’t think so,” I started to say, but to my amazement, Will said, “Okay. Come on, Scarlett.”

“You want to dance out there?” I said, indicating the mad crush of overdressed revelers.

“Why not?” Will had to raise his voice to be heard over the din. “You only live once, right?”

So onto the dance floor we went.

Will wasn’t a terribly good dancer. Neither was I. But Lily was good enough for all of us, and after the first thirty seconds or so, I gave up on feeling awkward and embarrassed and decided to just have a good time.

It’s amazing how much the way you approach a situation impacts how the situation develops. Deciding to have fun did not magically make me a better dancer, but it did make me care a lot less what everyone around me might be thinking. I even tried Lily’s patented hip move, and noticed that Will’s eyes tracked me carefully. He didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t exactly a rock star out there; I could tell from his eyes that he liked the way I moved.