Sounds stupid, but I can feel James’ eyes on me all over again. Like he’s somehow part of the darkness outside, the world out there.
I toss and I turn. I have a half-asleep fever dream about James and lasagna, but after feeling hot and cold sweats for hours on end, I’m glad I never took my bath after all.
Grinding my teeth as I see the gray dawn peeking through the curtains, I will myself to sleep but it’s no use.
I don’t know if I’ll ever eat or sleep properly again as long as I’m left wondering just what it is that James Silverthorn actually wants with me.
And if I can even deliver the goods to satisfy him, even though I know I really am supposed to be his in this life somehow.
Eventually, like every other time I’ve never slept properly or at all, by the time I really do have to get up I slip into the deepest possible sleep and want to stay there for a year.
Hearing dad thundering around downstairs slowly draws me back to the land of the living though, and it isn’t long before I hear him using the upstairs bathroom to have his shower.
The smell of coffee and burnt toast eventually forcing me out of my bed.
I’m a lousy cook, but my dad is even worse.
Leaving him alone near a kitchen is a bad idea, and I’m already dreading the dishes I know he will have made dirty so far.
Coffee and toast, not so bad though. And as I pour myself a cup I hear the doorbell, which sets my heart pounding all over again.
Convinced it has to be James, I race to the door and swing it open, all ready to forgive him for not coming last night or even trying to contact me again.
But it’s not James.
It’s another delivery.
The large, flat box is gold with a white ribbon. I wonder what it could be for dad this time.
Until the courier asks for my name, telling me I need to sign for it.
It’s for me.
I ease the huge box through the front door and listening to make sure Dad’s still in the shower, I make straight for my room.
Tearing off the ribbon and clawing at the tissue paper inside, I just know it’s from James.
Before I even see the fabric, before I even lift the gown from the box, I can feel him oozing out from it, as if the whole gown was made from the man himself.
“It’s just beautiful,” I gasp, holding it against myself carefully with one hand as I shift the only full-size mirror I have into position to get a better look.
There’s even a matching pair of shoes in the box and a simple but elegant mask made from the same material for the masked ball.
But a part of me is dying.
I know it won’t fit. Nothing this beautiful ever fits. The gown I wore for my graduation cut me in half and that was a year ago, and I know I’ve put on more weight since then.
A lot more.
Not wanting to ruin it by even trying, I start to try and layer it back into the box, but I can’t.
I sigh bitterly, but then I notice the card inside the box from James.
I want you in this.
And what’s owed, my kiss.
See you at the ball.
James.
I press it to my heart and then to my lips. The image of him so close to me yesterday sends me fluttering back onto my bed, hugging the gown to my body as if it was made of-
“Honey, who was at the door?”
My dad’s at my door, I can see the handle turning.
“I’m not decent,” I call out, hearing my voice crack like it does when I lie to my dad.
“Oh, sorry… Who was at the door though?” he asks again, waiting for an answer as I scramble to try and figure out what to do with the gown, the box. With everything.
“Honey?” he asks again, impatiently. “Just put a robe on will ya, I need to get moving. I can’t be talking through doors all day.”
I freeze. I don’t know what else to do.
“Honey?” he asks again, opening the door and putting his head around without looking.
“Hi,” I murmur, feeling like I’ve been caught doing the worst thing in the world when really I’m just standing in my pajamas in my room clutching a ball gown.
Opening his eyes, he looks surprised for a moment, but the look on my face tells him everything.
One glance at the box, the ribbon, even without him seeing the card. It’s pretty clear what’s happened.
His face goes from surprise to confusion, shock then angry all in a second.
“You’re not going, I forbid it,” he says in a low, calm voice that gives me a chill as his eyes narrow on the box again before he slams my door.