Page 123 of Cinderella Is Faking It

“Thank you-oh.” I flung my phone across the mattress, my back arching as the buzzing inside me grew stronger. I couldn’t deny that Beck’s voice had added to that. And I let my head fall back into the pillows, squeezed my eyes shut and allowed the thought of his hand wrapped around my throat carry me deeper.

FIFTY-ONE

The second timeI stepped into the event space at Truman Academy, the florals and luxurious gold decor from the first time had been switched out for swiveling disco lights and glittering rainbow streamers. Where a string quartet had played, a DJ was currently remixing a song I’d never heard, but it had all the teenagers jumping up and down and singing along.

I spotted Del on the other side of the room before she had the chance to notice me. At least that gave me a moment to drink her in. Her hair had been curled and swept into an updo, leaving just a few strands to frame her face, which really put the focus on those devastating red lips. My eyes dropped lower to the pale green empire-waist dress - and I knew the exact moment her eyes found me, because her chest strained against the scooping neckline in a deep, long sigh.

She made her way along the edge of the dance floor, but while my eyes never left her, she was intently focused on the kids before stopping next to me. “What are you doing here?”

“I was roped into chaperoning,” I replied, watching her face for any trace of uncertainty or blush, considering our last conversation.

“How?” She furrowed her brows. “Brody’s not even a junior yet.”

I hesitated, waiting for the realization to sink in that she hadn’t spoken to me since drunk dialing while masturbating, but she’d either blacked the memory out, or she was comfortable enough with the action not to show remorse. I fucking hoped it was the latter, for her own sake, but selfishly also for mine. I dragged my eyes from her to the kids twirling and jumping around on the dance floor. “Apparently, there’s a whole pecking order among the parents here, and as a newcomer who didn’t introduce themselves to the PTA with personalized gift baskets, I’m at the bottom of the food chain.”

“Wow.” She laughed. A light, genuine laugh that I hadn’t heard in weeks. “Couldn’t negotiate your way out of this one?”

“I negotiated my way out of chaperoning the ski trip.” I grinned. “This is the compromise.”

“Really? Why? I can’t wait for the ski trip.”

“You’re going?” I immediately regretted choosing one night of Homecoming over five days of mountain air.

“I negotiated that compromise myself. I’m covering all four dances for Rhonda this year to take her spot, because new teachers usually don’t get to. But they do a day-trip to the Niagara Falls every year on the ski trip, and I wasn’t passing up that chance.”

“You didn’t even want to leave the city with me.”

“Yeah, but that wasCordelia-me.”

“I kind of figured.”

“How so?”

“A Janeite who wouldn’t jump at the chance to go to England?” I raised my brows at her. “Come on.”

“You know, August Beckett almost sounds like a name from a regency novel.Oh dear Mr. Beckett.” She said that last part in a horrible English accent that sounded almost German.

“In that case, I would like to make use of my advantage as a man and ask you to dance, and leave you the power to refuse me.” I held out a hand for her.

“Are you misquoting Northanger Abbey to me?”

“Would you do me the honour of dancing with me, Miss Edwards?” I asked in a fake English accent a lot crisper than hers thanks to my boarding school years.

“Uh…” A rush of blood tinted her cheeks pink and she stared intently at her nails, throat bobbing. English accent. I’d have to remember that. “Alright.”

I was prepared to make a total fool of myself, trying to dance to whatever remix the DJ would put on, but the second Delilah stepped onto the dance floor with me, a literal record scratch filled the room, followed by the announcement: “DJ Day has decided it’s about time for all the lovebirds to get in their obligatory slow dance.”

Del’s head whipped around, and she shot the DJ a death-glare through narrowed eyes, but that man just grinned and winked at her.

“Friend of yours?” I asked, my voice as tight as my clenched jaw. He only got away with that wink because he was clearly putting on Ronan Keating for our benefit.

“Fellow English-teacher,” she replied and turned, face still stony, “and self-proclaimed matchmaker. He’s read Emma a few too many times.”

“You can still refuse me,” I said and held out my open hand.

After a moment, Del placed her palm in mine and let herself be swept into a slow sway. Her other hand curled around my shoulder, nails digging in hard enough to betray her nerves. I started running soothing circles over the small of her back, but it had the opposite effect. Her spine stiffened under the touch, so I stopped.

The hollow ache in my gut deepened. It had been there since the night she found out what I’d done, and it grew deeper every single time she reminded me that my hope was futile when it came to any kind of future with her.

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