“You know, for making us worry,” he said.
“Ah. Right. That tiny offense.”
We looked at each other for a moment and I found myself staring directly into his green eyes--his kind, honest, nothing-?to- hide green eyes. Slowly, Josh smiled, and I found myself smiling too. Then his gaze traveled down and settled, for the briefest of seconds, on my lips.
And just like that, my heart flipped.
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Flipped. For Josh Hollis.
I looked away quickly, suddenly warm. Josh instantly did the same. Thomas. I was going to this party to see Thomas. Of course, Whittaker chose that very moment to finally arrive.
My head was spinning.
“Evening, Josh,” he said congenially. “It seems you're in my seat.”
My stomach clenched with nerves as Josh looked at me. I shrugged with my eyes. “See you later?” Josh said as he stood, Whittaker backing up to make room.
“Yeah.”
Whittaker sat down next to me and slung his heavy arm around my shoulder. “This is going to be an incredible night.”
'Yeah,“ I replied, toying with my masquerade mask as I stared at Josh over the top of the seat. He was talking to Gage and Dash now, laughing as if nothing was weird. 'Yeah, it definitely is.”
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WALK OF FAME
By the time we stepped off the train in Grand Central Station in New York, almost everyone was sufficiently wasted, so I wasn't that surprised when Kiran and Taylor came up behind me, hooked their arms through mine, and dragged me through the main lobby, laughing and whispering, drunk with absolute freedom. Our voices echoed off the incredible domed ceiling high above as we scurried along, trying not to trip over our gowns. I couldn't believe I was in New York City, center of the known universe. But even more shocking? I was there with these people, in an exquisite ball gown, earning the curious and awed stares of everyone around us.
I felt like a debutante, a celebrity, someone who was certainly not me.
“Where are we going?” I asked the moment we emerged clumsily onto the sidewalk, a six-?legged princess in too-?high heels.
The rest of the crowd brought up the rear, gabbing loudly and confidently, not caring who heard or who stared. The cars on the
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avenue raced by, honking and veering and slamming their brakes. A hot dog vendor pushed his cart along the curb, cursing at no one and everyone. A pack of kids in Spider-?Man and Bratz costumes scurried after a pair of harried-?looking moms. Two huge men in black leather jackets screamed insults at each other as they plowed right through our group, causing Rose and Cheyenne to jump out of their way. Five seconds in the city and already I had seen more hustle and bustle than I had during a lifetime in Croton, Pennsylvania.
“You'll see!” Kiran trilled, dragging me off down the sidewalk.
A pack of college-?aged kids in elaborate vampire robes and white powder glided by us, checking us all out. A tall guy in a monkey costume gripped hands with a beautiful girl dressed up like Naomi Watts from King Kong and pulled her across the street. Ghouls and goblins shouted out taxi windows and a limo went by with four guys shoved up through the sunroof, each dressed in drag with tremendous boobs, “Woo-?wooing” at the top of their lungs.
“Love New York on Halloween,” Noelle said, taking a drink from a flask. “It's when all the crazies come out.”
We walked a few blocks, making a few turns, until my feet started to throb in Kiran's wicked-?high heels and I began to wonder why these ridiculously rich kids hadn't hired a limousine or at least hailed a cab. But the longer we walked, and the more passersby stopped in awe, the more I understood. They wanted these people to see and admire them. That was what this walk was all about. It was their walk of fame.
And it was fine by me, pain or no pain, because I got to see the
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city. I did my best not to gape as we strolled by swank boutiques and canopied restaurants. Tried so hard not to stare through the brightly lit windows into brownstone mansions, some starkly decorated with white walls and high ceilings, others jam-?packed with overflowing bookcases and antique artifacts. Didn't even flinch when we traipsed past a woman pushing a stroller who might or might not have been Sarah Jessica Parker and who may or may not have paused to admire my gown. But I did take it all in. I took it all in and filed it away and told myself over and over that I belonged here. That I was not going to wake up. That all this was really happening. To me.
We emerged onto a wide avenue with islands down the center that were full of trees and bushes. A middle-?aged couple in evening wear glided by us, the woman's silk skirt swishing behind her as she walked, her humongous diamond-?and-?ruby earrings sparkling under the streetlights. I surreptitiously glanced at the street sign over my head, trying not to seem too bumpkin, and smiled. We were on Park Avenue. The Park Avenue. It actually existed and I, Reed Brennan, was on it.
“This way!” Dash announced, leading the pack across the street.