The next day, Crowne Hall was bustling with energy for our Fourth of July party. Our Fourth party is world famous. Everyone who is anyone is in attendance. I’d had my hair and makeup done, and across my vanity gilded and silver makeup cases were scattered and catching sparkles of morning light.
Tonight I would meet my fiancé, Edward.
I touched the orange sea-glass pendant on my neck, another one of my originals, as a shadow formed behind me in the mirror.
Theo.
I hate that the first thing I think of is kissing him. It’s like a brutal flashback, a car crash I can’t escape. His lips on mine.
It’s fucking distracting.
I looked away.
I knew I’d have to marry someday. For a Crowne, it was just like everything else in life, perfunctory. It never made me feel any sort of way. Yet for some reason the idea of meeting my future fiancé has my heart aching.
“Time to go, Reject,” was all Theo said.
I saw Mrs. Harlington and my mother talking, but there was no man with them. I slouched, hiding behind a hundred-layer croquembouche with sparklers jutting from the hilt, hoping they didn’t see me.
I wasn’t going to go out of my way to find my future husband. I have my entire life for that.
“Poor lonely Reject,” Theo said. “Don’t you know you’re hiding from a family who couldn’t give a shit where you are?”
I stood up straighter, glaring. “At least I have a family to hide from.”
>
As if I need a reminder the kiss meant nothing, Theo is making sure to be a complete and utter asshole. He was in a suit again too. A deep, charcoal gray that somehow brought out the vivid green of his eyes and seemed to magnify the sharpness of his cheekbones.
Why couldn’t he be hideous when he was being such a dick?
Theo was so confusing. He’d been worshipful. Reverent. Kissed me like he was dying of thirst and I was water. I was learning to dread his moments of affection, because they quickly led to this. Complete indifference.
Who actually has the power here? I thought it was me, but all I can think about is Theo. What he says. Thinks.
He’s inside me.
He’s my guard, but I feel like his slave.
I touched my lips, still remembering him.
As if he knew, he laughed. “Someone on your mind, Reject?”
I looked away, pulling out my phone and pretending to be busy on it. The sun was a citrine line on the horizon, casting the revelers in its hazy glow. Theo was at my back the entire time.
Unlike my siblings who keep their finstas—our secret Instagram accounts—updated, I don’t really have anyone to talk to. The hashtag fourthofcrowne is being used and easy to track if you’re in the know. Somewhere my sister was skinny-dipping with a prince off the back of his boat. My brother had his arms around this year’s Victoria’s Secret runway models. There was a whole, separate world happening right around me, a party filled with fun and depravity. I was supposed to be part of it, instead I’m more separate than someone who wouldn’t know it didn’t exist.
This is the party of the year, and I don’t want to be here.
I stuttered on one of the photos. A—a rose?
It was, under the hashtag, and I was in the background out of focus. I snapped my head up, looking left and right, trying to find who took the photo.
I didn’t realize Theo was over my shoulder until his breath is against my ear. “Looking for picture evidence of how little people care about you?”
I chewed my lip, putting my phone on sleep.
It was nothing. Just a weird coincidence. Still, my gut won’t stop roiling.