Page 128 of The Fine Art of Faking It
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“Are you sure I look okay?”Eden asked, smoothing the skirt of her lace sleeved minidress in dark green. She hadn’t been planning to go to the dance, so wardrobe pickings were slim.
“You look amazing,” Sammy said. Her low-maintenance friend was dressed in a simple black dress, tights, and Uggs that were currently propped on Eden’s coffee table.
“You need another layer of mascara,” Layla reported. Layla was low-maintenance on the job, but after-hours, she was a freaking knockout. She’d styled her enviable blonde locks in loose waves and topped them with a Santa hat. Her fire engine red dress hit her at mid-thigh, and her gold stilettos made her look like a super model had wandered away from a holiday-themed shoot.
Eden hustled back into her bathroom and swiped on another coat of mascara, took a deep breath, and called her face done.
“Are you sure he’ll show up?” Eden asked, poking her head out of the bathroom doorway. “I mean his parents are here, and Davis isn’t exactly good at disappointing them.”
Under that layer of giddy excitement was the icy edge of old, not-so-dormant fear.
“Judging from their faces at the front desk, I’d say him dating you is less of a disappointment and more of an epic betrayal,” Layla said cheerfully.
Given the fact that the Gates’ home was still occupied by its renter, and Davis’s house was unlivable, Ferguson and Tilly were very reluctant guests of the Lunar Inn for the next week. Bryson, however, was having the time of his life. “You’re not making me feel better,” she told her friend.
Sammy put down her phone. “Babe, look. This is your shot. Your chance to start something amazing regardless of past, regardless of ridiculous families. This is your new beginning, and you look fucking amazing.”
Eden pitched forward onto the couch and strangled her friend in a tight hug.
“It’s okay to be excited and nervous,” Layla pointed out, cracking her gum. “This is big, and it’s real.”
“And you owe me twenty bucks,” Sammy added.
Layla didn’t even grumble when she dug into her gold sparkly clutch.
“You’re not going to make her wait to see if he shows up at the dance?” Eden asked.
Layla leveled her with a look. “He’ll be there.”
And just like that, the yacht-worthy knot that had tied itself in her stomach loosened. Eden took a steadying breath. “Then let’s get our asses there so I can make sure Fitz doesn’t accidentally spike the kids’ punch again.” The HeHa dance had offered separate adult and kid refreshment tables after the unfortunate gelatin shot incident of 1997. Since then, the adult punch bowl was traditionally spiked with some form of alcohol that got reluctant adult limbs dancing and mismatched partners making out in dark corners.
It was all part of the tradition.
* * *
The high schoolgymnasium was looking festive in a crazy, someone-got-carried-away kind of way.
When the HeHa fiasco had been dumped in their lap, Eden and Davis had also inherited the mess that was the dance committee. They’d scrapped Charisma Champion’s plans for a black and white mime-themed event—and ignored Fitz’s suggestion for an event that would pay tribute to farm life during the Great Depression—and went with traditional holiday.
It was magical. Christmas, Hanukah, Diwali, and Kwanzaa had thrown up over every square inch of the gym.
Eden had to hand it to the decorating committee. Navy blue and silver panels of material hung from the ceiling. Twinkle lights cast a soft, holiday glow around everything that stood still long enough to get swagged. Bing Crosby crooned from the sound system, and the dance floor was festooned with stick-on snowflakes.
The entire population of Blue Moon was under this roof, tired and happy from a day of giving. They were decked out in a wide range of festive finery. There were ugly Christmas and Hanukah sweaters, some on purpose and some not. There were pretty gowns on senior high girls and baggy suits on their nervous dates.
There were potted trees scattered about representing every holiday of the season. There was even a tree of meditation mantras, and guests were encouraged to take a mantra. Eden snuck one from where it hung on a branch.
Today is your new beginning. Don’t screw it up.
“No pressure or anything,” Eden said wryly.
“Wow.”
She turned and her heart soared. Davis was here, in navy suit, a vest, and a sexy tie, looking at her like she was a goddess.
“You’re here,” she breathed.
