Chapter three
901 Words
By Saturday night, I’d almost talked myself out of it. I’d practiced the speech and everything: Sorry, Stace, I can’t make it. My goldfish has a cold.
Unfortunately, Stacy knows me too well.
“You’re not bailing,” she said, barging into my apartment with an armful of garment bags. “Now strip.”
“Excuse me?”
“Strip, Aria. You are not showing up to a masquerade ball in pizza-stained pajamas.”
“I’ve been wearing this hoodie for three days. We’re basically married now.”
She rolled her eyes and unzipped the first bag, revealing a floor-length silver gown that probably weighed more than a small child.
“Put it on,” she ordered.
I stared at it. “Is it too late to fake a fainting spell?”
“Yes.”
The dress was gorgeous, but once I stepped into it, I realized it was also the world’s most glamorous cement block. “If I die tonight, bury me in this so everyone knows I suffered for beauty.”
“Drama queen,” she muttered, tossing me a pair of silver heels.
“These are not shoes. These are medieval torture devices.”
“They match,” she said.
I sighed. “So would fuzzy slippers.”
By the time we were done, my hair was curled, my makeup was flawless, and the silver mask covering half my face. I looked very different from the the girl that had been crying for the past week
The venue was absurdly fancy. Huge chandelier, gold everywhere,bling bling a live band in the corner playing something slow and classy. Waiters floated around with trays of champagne
“This is… intense,” I whispered as we walked in.
“That’s the point,” Stacy whispered back. “Mask on, attitude up.”
The place was full of gowns, tuxes, feathers, sequins you name it. Naturally, I started silently judging everyone’s outfits.
Points for effort. Minus two for the peacock feathers. Nice mask, sir, but your tie is tragic. Oh, a couple at a masquerade? Have fun explaining that breakup story to your friends.
“Very elaborate gown, don’t you think?”
The voice was so close I nearly launched myself into orbit.
I turned to find a tall man beside me, broad-shouldered, wearing a sleek silver mask that framed a pair of beautiful green eyes.
“Uh… do I know you?” I asked.
He chuckled low and smooth. “It’s a masquerade ball, sweetheart. Knowing me defeats the point, don’t you think?”
Nice eyes, nice voice, nice everything.
“Well then, mystery man,” I said, crossing my arms, “what brings you to a night of overpriced drinks and questionable fashion?”
“Honestly? The food. And the wine.”
“Ahh. A man of culture.”
He extended a hand. “Care to dance and pretend we’re cultured together?”
My shoes already hated me, but… screw it. “Fine. But if you step on my toes, I’m suing.”
He smiled. “No promises.”
We stepped onto the dance floor just as the band slipped into a slow number.
Romantic
Not that I was complaining.
As we moved, I tilted my head. “So, mystery man… do you come to these often, or just when you’re in the mood to rescue damsels in distress?”
“Only when the damsel looks like she needs it,” he replied, smirk visible even under the mask.
“You’re pretty confident for a guy I just met.”
“Confidence,” he murmured, leaning closer, “is part of the mask.”
Ooh nice voice
“So what’s under the mask?” I asked.
“You’ll have to find out, stranger.”
By the third song, I was actually laughing , like, real laughing, not the polite kind you do when someone makes a bad joke. Somewhere between a spin, his hand resting firmly on my waist, I heard myself say, “Want to get out of here?”
His eyes lit up (of course). “Thought you’d never ask.”
****
Fast-forward to the hotel room.
The door clicked shut behind us. His hands were already on my waist, pulling me in, and before I could think twice, his mouth was on mine.
The masks hit the floor first. Then his jacket. Then, well, everything else.
“God, you’re driving me crazy,” he muttered against my skin.
I tugged him closer, breathless. “No stopping now.”
“That was never an option, love.”
The rest is… let’s just say the hotel walls probably heard enough to guess what we were doing
The next morning
I woke up to sunlight stabbing me directly in the eyes. My head felt fuzzy, my body ached in that good way, and the man beside me was still asleep.
Andddd that was my cue to go.
Quietly, I slid out of bed, hunted down my dress and shoes, and found a pen and hotel stationery on the desk.
Had a fun night. xoxo
I placed the note on the pillow, grabbed my things, and tiptoed out of the room. very ninja like if I say so myself.
By the time I made it to the street, the city air hit me, and I thought: Alright, Aria.
Time to move on. This was just one night.
Famous last words.
- Writer
