Page 92 of Wonderstruck

As our hushed laughs rippled through the studio, I couldn’t help but smile. My heart swelled, warmth spreading through to the tips of my fingers at the sight of my friends.

But even surrounded by them, his absencelingered like a shadow. Finn wasn’t here, and it felt wrong—like waking up expecting sunlight but finding the darkest storm clouds instead.

Still, I smiled, fluffed my tutu, moved into position and danced. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about why he wasn't around.

“What on earth are you supposed to be?”

All heads turned toward Cora, who stood inthe corner, her puffy yellow-and-gold costume taking up most of thespace.

“Anyone can see I'm a custard tart,” she declared, earning achorus of laughter.

We’d finally landed on the theme for Goldie’sparty—her favourite things.

Daisy’s costume was a clever textbookensemble, made of taped pages from Goldie’s old psych textbooks, sporadically placed around her dress. Jesse looked as adorable as a six-foot-three man could, dressing as a lemon to honour Goldie’s favourite colour. Tristan, ever the dramatic, had transformed into the sexy-fae hero from Goldie’s favourite romantasy series, complete with pointy ears, black contacts, and a flowing black cape.

And me? I’d drawn inspiration from the coffeecup lids I doodled on for everyone. My outfit was a cream-colored dress, with swirls of brown, and just enough sparkle and cleavage to qualify as “sexy.” Finished with a tiny sun doodle at the hem of the skirt, skimming the middle of my thighs.

Goldie nearly doubled over laughing when shesaw me. “You’re my coffee cup?” she gasped as she looked over me, her glittering silver dress lighting up her face. “Rory, that’s genius.”

“I thought so too until your overlord over there totally stole the show.” I teased, pulling her into a hug. "Happy birthday."

She smiled as she pulled away, before turning to Jess. “And I’msurprised you didn’t turn up in your outfit from earlier.”

Jesse shrugged, mischief in his smirk. “Iwould have. Peter Pan was onto something with those tights.”

The townhouse felt the most alive it had inweeks, and part of me wanted to keep it like this forever. Disco balls hung from the ceiling, their reflections scattering across the room. Goldie’s cake sat on the coffee table, adorned with bows and sunflowers, while bowls of snacks filled every available surface. Giant ‘2’ and ‘0’ balloons leaned against the wall beneath a banner that read,“Goodbye Teens, Hello Twenties.”One of Tristan’s songs played in the background—the one that had been number one for three weeks now.

Everything about tonight felt perfect.

Then the doorbell rang, slicing through thelaughter.

Tristan jogged over to the door and opened it,and before I could prepare myself, I heard his laugh. And then Isawhim.

Finn stepped inside, and right away I could seeit. His usual easygoing demeanour was muted, replaced by something quieter, more guarded. Still, he managed his signature dimple-inducing smile as everyone turned to look.

“What are you dressed as?” Daisy asked,tilting her head.

Finn glanced down at his outfit—a plain blackT-shirt, dark jeans, and fake tattoos snaking up his arms. “I’m Tristan,” he said simply. “Duh.”

The room erupted in laughter. Even Tristangrinned, clapping Finn on the shoulder as he walked in and handed him a beer.

Never looking once at me. Not even a glance.

God, Iknewsomething was up. The only thingwas I had no idea what that something was.

Songs came and went, slightly alcoholic drinkswere consumed, and all throughout the night he laughed and smiled at the right moments, but his eyes were distant, restless.

And still not glancing at me.

Blaming myself wasn’t right. I’d barely seenhim, so the chances of me pissing him off or doing something to scare him were lower than low. After another ten minutes of ruling out every possible other reason apart from what happened last week, I felt my curiosity slip over the line and morph into something darker.

“I’m tired of not telling you how I feel.”

Was that just something he’d said to stop metalking? Was it just an empty confession to skate around the truth? It must have been if he hadn't spoken to me, or looked at me since. Right?

Oh screw this.

If he wasn’t coming to me thenI’d go to him.

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