admirable fascination came the reality of Aidan’s imminent departure. Before tonight’s windfall of cash, leaving tomorrow wasn’t an option. But soon Catswallow would be his prior address, with sunsets downgraded to a scientific fact and ice cream just fattening. Watching the girls watch him, guys looking on with enviable awe, she knew it was the right thing for him to do. For anyone else success and fame might have the luster of a dream, but Isabel knew it would happen as well as she knew her own name. The same guilt she felt in the truck edged back. She wasn’t being terribly fair or even a decent friend. Money was his only obstacle, and while it wasn’t a king’s fortune, a crafty guy who could survive on boxed macaroni-and-cheese could live off $10,000 for some time. Isabel sighed again, needing a break from Aidan’s unfolding future—the one that wouldn’t include her. She headed toward the ladies’ room, which she’d put off since deciding that evening gowns should come with how-to-use-public-restrooms instructions. She took a last glance at the stage before running headlong into Kyle Marsh.
“Bella, you, um, you look incredible,” he said, handsome enough in his tux. It was amazing how rented clothing could give the average boy the sheen of a man. “Would, um . . . Do you want to dance, being as your date’s kind of busy?”
Aidan, who’d nodded in her direction, was well into the second chorus of Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” A crowd of girls puddled around the base of the stage, ogling him. She shrugged, shifting in her heels. “Sure, Kyle, but won’t your date mind?”
“Katie? Nah, she went to the parking lot to smoke a joint. It’s fine.”
Isabel guessed that smoking pot wasn’t on Kyle’s to-do list, having won a full ride to the Citadel or West Point. She made a mental note to ask which one if they had to make small talk. But the beautiful ballad didn’t invite conversation and the two of them just danced. A few moments in, as she was swaying comfortably in Kyle’s arms, the music changed. It hadn’t stopped, but Aidan wasn’t singing anymore. The music had switched over to a CD, the real Aerosmith filling in. She moved with the melody, drifting to some dreamy place, positive that Aidan sang it better.
“Hey, Marsh, your date’s looking for you.” Startled, Isabel opened her eyes, finding Aidan standing next to them. “She looks really pissed, man. I’ll take over, okay?”
Kyle glanced toward the door but didn’t let go. “It’s fine, dude. Katie’s not into me, we’re just friends—you know how it is,” he said, his chin cocking at Isabel.
Aidan’s eyes flicked between them and the stage, a hand running roughly over his mouth before moving onto Kyle’s shoulder. Isabel recognized the grip; it was the same one that took hold of her wrist in his truck. “No, really, take off, man.” They stopped dancing and Kyle, who boasted an athletic build but lacked Aidan’s presence, let go.
“Whatever.” He took a healthy step back. “But you can’t have it both ways, Roycroft. Get a clue.” Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets, disappearing into the crowd.
Aidan only stared, as though he had no intention of dancing. The
I feel pretty
moment faded, eclipsed by the whole hair, dress, whorish lipstick concept. Awkwardness intensified, the two of them standing still in the middle of a swaying dance floor. The tension broke as Aidan grabbed her around the waist. And again, there was nothing pleasant about it. “Why were you dancing with him?”
“Uh, because he asked and my legs were starting to cramp.”
“You know I’m working this thing. I’m not letting you sit there by yourself on purpose.”
“I know.” But Isabel barely heard him, caught in the awesome sense of déjà vu that danced along with them. It was surreal; she knew it well, but she and Aidan had never danced before. It was like being pulled into a parallel universe.
“Bella, you, um, you look incredible,” he said, handsome enough in his tux. It was amazing how rented clothing could give the average boy the sheen of a man. “Would, um . . . Do you want to dance, being as your date’s kind of busy?”
Aidan, who’d nodded in her direction, was well into the second chorus of Aerosmith’s “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing.” A crowd of girls puddled around the base of the stage, ogling him. She shrugged, shifting in her heels. “Sure, Kyle, but won’t your date mind?”
“Katie? Nah, she went to the parking lot to smoke a joint. It’s fine.”
Isabel guessed that smoking pot wasn’t on Kyle’s to-do list, having won a full ride to the Citadel or West Point. She made a mental note to ask which one if they had to make small talk. But the beautiful ballad didn’t invite conversation and the two of them just danced. A few moments in, as she was swaying comfortably in Kyle’s arms, the music changed. It hadn’t stopped, but Aidan wasn’t singing anymore. The music had switched over to a CD, the real Aerosmith filling in. She moved with the melody, drifting to some dreamy place, positive that Aidan sang it better.
“Hey, Marsh, your date’s looking for you.” Startled, Isabel opened her eyes, finding Aidan standing next to them. “She looks really pissed, man. I’ll take over, okay?”
Kyle glanced toward the door but didn’t let go. “It’s fine, dude. Katie’s not into me, we’re just friends—you know how it is,” he said, his chin cocking at Isabel.
Aidan’s eyes flicked between them and the stage, a hand running roughly over his mouth before moving onto Kyle’s shoulder. Isabel recognized the grip; it was the same one that took hold of her wrist in his truck. “No, really, take off, man.” They stopped dancing and Kyle, who boasted an athletic build but lacked Aidan’s presence, let go.
“Whatever.” He took a healthy step back. “But you can’t have it both ways, Roycroft. Get a clue.” Kyle shoved his hands in his pockets, disappearing into the crowd.
Aidan only stared, as though he had no intention of dancing. The
I feel pretty
moment faded, eclipsed by the whole hair, dress, whorish lipstick concept. Awkwardness intensified, the two of them standing still in the middle of a swaying dance floor. The tension broke as Aidan grabbed her around the waist. And again, there was nothing pleasant about it. “Why were you dancing with him?”
“Uh, because he asked and my legs were starting to cramp.”
“You know I’m working this thing. I’m not letting you sit there by yourself on purpose.”
“I know.” But Isabel barely heard him, caught in the awesome sense of déjà vu that danced along with them. It was surreal; she knew it well, but she and Aidan had never danced before. It was like being pulled into a parallel universe.
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