Paper Hearts, Page 2

  Sandra laughed, pulling up her mask so we could see her properly. “Well, since most of our guests have arrived and nothing has been checked, you’re both free to go home.”

  “Miss Hogan?” I said, and Sandra turned her intimidating gaze on me. “I was wondering if… I mean, you mentioned that we might be allowed to stay?”

  “I’m glad you’re so eager to help out, Felicity,” she said, “but there isn’t anything else for you to do.”

  My smile faltered. “Actually, I meant to stay and enjoy the ball.”

  Pretty please, I silently begged.

  Sandra gave me a hard look as she considered my words. “Yes, I suppose,” she finally said, “but you’re required to wear a mask, and I can’t give away any of CCA’s for free. You’ll have to purchase one.”

  “Don’t worry. I have that covered.” I grabbed my canvas messenger bag from underneath the counter. “I made these last night,” I said, pulling out two handmade masks for her to examine. “You know, in case you decided to let us stay.”

  After the mall yesterday, I’d gone to Craft Corner. By using coupons and shopping out of the bargain bins at the back of the store, I was able to get all the supplies I needed at a relatively low cost. The masks the CCA had ordered for the ball were all different animals—from peacocks and swans to tigers and lions—so I made sure the ones I constructed were as well. For Asha, I’d created a blue jay with an array of white and cobalt feathers that I knew would match her eyes perfectly. My own was a butterfly, made with a dusting of pink glitter and fake jewels.

  “I should say no since everyone else is wearing our masks,” Sandra said, picking up one of my designs. “But these are simply stunning.”

  I beamed. “So we can wear them?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “Heck yeah,” I said, not believing my luck. “Thank you so much, Miss Hogan. This means the world to me.”

  Sandra was already walking back toward the lobby, waving a hand over her head without looking back. “Have fun, ladies.”

  I had every intention to.

  Chapter 2

  The ballroom was glittering. Five massive crystal chandeliers lit the space, their warm glow reflecting in the arched floor-to-ceiling mirrors that ran the length of the room. Music swept down from the mezzanine where an orchestra was playing, and the melody carried beautiful couples across the dance floor.

  The amount of wealth packed into the room was staggering. When I first arrived, I saw a woman wearing a necklace that was set with an emerald the size of my fist. No joke. I felt out of place in my department store dress and fake jewels.

  “Where the hell are you, Asha?” I muttered to myself as I glanced down at my wrist. But my watch wasn’t there. I’d taken it off before the ball, replacing my favorite accessory with a sparkling pink bracelet I’d made to match my mask. Yesterday, I was proud of the jewelry I designed for tonight, but after seeing some of the pieces the guests were wearing, the faux crystals around my wrist didn’t seem so special anymore.

  Sighing, I turned back to the crowd. Asha had disappeared what felt like ages ago. She’d gone to order sodas from the bar since we couldn’t have any of the champagne being passed around by the waitstaff, and I was starting to feel awkward standing by myself. Besides her, I didn’t know anyone here except for the CCA staff members, but they were all too busy entertaining important guests to keep me company.

  In Asha’s absence, I’d claimed a deserted high-top cocktail table that was set beneath the balcony. My spot was out of the way, perfect for people watching. A sweet-looking elderly couple at the edge of the dance floor were moving slowly to their own tempo, and I easily spotted Ronald Gibbins, the CCA’s executive director, who was wearing a ridiculous top hat. I continued to scan the crowd, hoping to catch sight of a celebrity, but it was hard to recognize anyone with all the masks.

  That’s when I noticed him.

  Unlike most of the colorful and ornately designed masks guests had donned at the beginning of the night, he’d chosen a simple but sleek black wolf that made his gray eyes pop. Even though he was standing a few yards away, I could see their startling shade as he stared at me without reservation.

  He looked younger than most of the attendees. Maybe he was the son of a successful businessman or movie director? It was difficult to gauge how old he was with the upper half of his face covered. Eighteen or nineteen, if I had to guess. Possibly early twenties.

  The only thing I knew for sure was that he was beautiful. Not hot like Eddie Marks, the captain of the soccer team who I’d had a crush on since middle school. Eddie knew how all the girls looked at him and used it to his advantage. This boy, whoever he was, didn’t do that. I don’t know how I knew this—maybe it was the way he held himself, tall but not cocky, or the look in his eyes, lonely yet hopeful—but I could tell he wasn’t like the Eddies of the world.

  We’d never met before, and yet…there was something about him I couldn’t put my finger on. Just holding his gaze made me feel like all my insides had been sucked out, and after two more seconds of direct eye contact, I focused my attention on the floor.

  Wanting to look busy, I pulled out my phone to see if Asha had texted me. Maybe Gabe Grant was here, and she was off flirting in some dark corner of the room with him. But when I checked, there were no new texts from anyone. I clicked on Asha’s name and sent a quick message.

  Felicity: You kidnapped or something?

  I tucked my phone away and glanced up, hoping to see her heading toward me with two sodas in hand and a grin on her face. She wasn’t, so I risked peeking at the guy with the piercing eyes. He’d turned back to the people standing around him: a tall man with a streak of silver in his dark hair, but the same gray eyes as the boy; a woman in a green, skintight dress that reminded me of alligator skin; and Judy Perkins, a CCA board member. Wolf Boy was listening to the conversation politely, but never once opened his mouth to comment while I was watching.

  After a few more minutes of drumming my fingers on the cocktail table, there was still no sign of Asha. Even the boy, who I’d taken to glancing at occasionally, had vanished, swallowed by the ebb and flow of the crowd. If I didn’t go look for Asha now, I would spend the rest of my night standing alone and looking foolish, so I snatched my clutch from the table and stepped out of the shadows.

  A massive bar had been assembled on the opposite side of the room—which I knew because I’d helped set it up—and I made my way in its general direction, weaving in and out of clusters of people. I picked up snippets of conversations and laughter as I passed, and submerging myself in the party helped to ease my discomfort.

  It took me a couple of minutes to cross the expansive ballroom, and as I caught sight of the glossy wooden counter of the bar, I thought I heard a familiar voice calling my name. Standing on my tiptoes, I scanned the room, hoping to spot the bright blue of Asha’s sari. When I didn’t, I pursed my lips and spun back around. At that exact moment, someone slammed into my side. I wobbled on my heels, and the half second before I lost my balance seemed to stretch endlessly as my chest fluttered in panic. But before I could tumble over, a strong hand steadied me.

  “Thank you—” I started, but then I looked up at my rescuer and froze. Standing before me was the guy in the wolf mask. He was even more gorgeous up close. He said something to me, but I was too stunned to process what.

  When I didn’t answer, he tilted his head. “Miss?”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  “Should I ask the waitstaff for a rag and club soda?” He spoke in a quiet tone, like he didn’t want anyone to hear him, but his voice was deep. A smooth, sexy deep.

  “Why?”

  He pointed to my dress. A brown liquid had spilled down the front, staining the pink fabric, and that was when I noticed the empty glass in his free hand.

  “Shit!” I exclaimed, brushing away a fe
w melting chunks of ice. The brown stain remained. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  “I can pay for the dry cleaning if you—”

  “No,” I snapped, pulling my arm away from him.

  I spun around and dove back into the crowd. The closest bathroom was under the mezzanine, and I rushed across the ballroom in half the time it took me before, not caring whether I bumped into people in my mad rush. Barreling into the ladies’ room as fast as my heels allowed, I beelined for the sink. After cranking on the faucet, I ripped paper towels from the nearby dispenser.

  “Please come out, please come out,” I chanted desperately as I dabbed the stain. Some of the dark splotch lifted, but the fabric remained discolored. “Dammit!”

  I chucked the useless wet paper in the trash and leaned against the sink, sucking in deep breaths to calm myself. Never in my life had I been so upset about something as silly as a ruined outfit. I wasn’t a materialistic person. I couldn’t afford to be. My family had never been filthy rich, but as a partner at a law firm, my dad made enough money for us to live comfortably. Not that I remembered that. Dad deserted us before I started first grade.

  Mom maintained her lifestyle as an Orange County housewife for as long as possible, but the prenup she signed didn’t leave her with much. By the time I was nine, all the money was gone, and she began selling off our things—the speedboat Dad left behind, some of her more expensive jewelry, the foosball table and flat screen from the basement—in order to keep the more important status symbols, like the house and her BMW. But eventually, those things went too.

  It was my first year of middle school when my mom finally accepted that our lives had to change. She, Rose, and I were watching Legally Blonde (my all-time favorite movie) late one night. Just when Elle was about to get her courtroom victory, the power went out. But it wasn’t because of a storm. The electric company had pulled the plug since Mom wasn’t paying the bills. I had to give her credit; she put on a brave face. After the shock of the sudden darkness wore off, she dug out enough candles from the garage to light the living room.

  For me, the night was a fun adventure. I got to camp out on the floor in a sleeping bag with my family. I didn’t realize how bad the situation was until I woke to my mom crying. They were silent sobs, but I could still hear her hitched breathing and occasional hiccup. When I softly called her name and asked what was wrong, she pretended to be asleep. The next day she put the house on the market and started looking for a job.

  With a sigh, I returned my attention to the dress. To say I had buyer’s remorse was an understatement. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’d blown on a piece of clothing I’d wear once, especially since I needed every penny for school…so I’d done something kind of awful. When I got dressed for the ball, I’d left on the price tag.

  But now I’d never be able to return it. There was a huge wet patch down my torso, and trying to blot out the soda only made a bigger mess. I felt my eyes start to water.

  Are you seriously going to cry over a dress? I scolded myself. Get your shit together, Felicity!

  I yanked up my mask and swatted away the tears in my eyes. I knew saving for college would be difficult. And if I was being honest with myself, the stain was probably for the best. I’d tried to convince myself that returning the dress wouldn’t hurt anyone, but I could feel the price tag hanging between my shoulder blades, a constant reminder of my dishonesty.

  Shaking out my hair, I squared my shoulders. I was desperate for some fresh air, so I pulled my mask back in place, left the bathroom, and headed toward the set of double doors at the back of the ballroom. One was propped open, and light poured out onto a terrace like a pool of golden water. As soon as I stepped outside, I sucked in a lungful of hot air. Between when I arrived at work and now, the sun had set, but the scorching heat of the day still clung to the night with perseverance.

  Taking another deep breath, I walked over to the stone railing, and as I did, the commotion and music of the ball faded into a soft buzz behind me. The terrace overlooked an expansive garden. The only way to describe it was magical, like out of a fairy tale, and I imagined pixies sparkling against the dark backdrop of the night.

  Two sweeping staircases led down to a huge circular fountain, and the cobblestone pathway surrounding it disappeared into a maze of tall greenery. Rows of rosebushes were adorned with white lights, and lanterns in soft pastels hung from every nearby tree branch. While I took in the beautiful scene, it occurred to me how much time and effort the decor must have taken, and what a shame it was that I was the only person outside to appreciate it. The CCA had planned for the party to overflow onto the terrace, but with the weather, no one seemed willing to leave the air-conditioning.

  I sat on the top step of the closest staircase, propped my chin in my hands, and heaved a long sigh. This was so not how I thought my night would go. Did I expect to be swept off my feet like Cinderella? No, but damn, that girl had everything: a beautiful gown free of charge, an evening of laughter and dancing, and a handsome prince to save her from reality. Was it too much to ask for one of those things? One stress-free night when I could enjoy myself? When I didn’t have to worry about money or work or my future? After the soda-spilling-on-my-dress-and-me-flipping-out incident, stress-free was not the best description of my masquerade experience.

  I wove my hands in my hair. It had taken more than an hour to straighten every strand, and after being outside for less than five minutes, I could already feel the waves of my curls taking form. But now, I was beyond caring. The only thing that would make up for my terrible luck was if Asha was having a good time, hopefully with Gabe Grant.

  The thought made me smile.

  • • •

  I don’t know how long I was outside, but at some point I wandered down to the fountain. It was even more beautiful upon inspection. The bottom was tiled with colorful glass, giving it the appearance of a waterlogged kaleidoscope. I stepped up onto the smooth concrete base. As I walked the circle, I hummed the Heartbreakers’ song Asha had gotten stuck in my head.

  “Miss?”

  The sound of his voice startled me, and I had to flap my arms to keep from tumbling headfirst into the water. I regained my balance, but my heart was thumping. I pressed a hand to my chest and took a seat before I actually fell in.

  I knew it was that boy again without having to look. When I turned to him, I had to crane my neck to see his masked face. Holy mother, he was tall! Not like my friend Boomer, but still… I hadn’t realized this when we crashed into each other on the dance floor. I’d been too distracted by my soaked dress to make a height comparison. As if sensing this, he took a few steps back so he was no longer looming over me.

  “Were you trying to sneak up on me?” I asked, my pulse still thundering in my ears. “Because mission accomplished.”

  “Sorry,” he said, his face neutral. “I wanted to see if you were all right.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  Okay, I wasn’t fine. Not bad necessarily, but after my unexpected surge of emotions, I felt disheveled, burned out. Like a battery that had been completely sucked of its juice. My excitement for the ball had already faded, but I wasn’t ready to leave yet. Not when I’d be going home to a dark house. There was no way I’d admit this to a total stranger though, even if he was hot in a mysterious way.

  He must have known I wasn’t being completely sincere, because when I glanced back up, he was studying my face, eyes narrowed in concentration. It felt like an hour passed before he finally spoke.

  “Is your dress okay?”

  My face got hot. “It’ll be fine. Nothing a trip to the dry cleaner can’t fix.”

  “I’m sorry for spilling on you,” he said for the second time. “I got that club soda and rag if you need them.” He held out the two items as a peace offering.

  “You didn’t need to do that,” I said, barely able to meet his gaze. My face wa
s burning, and I prayed that the lack of light would hide the color of my cheeks. Unlike Mom and Rose, who always had golden California tans, I inherited my grandmother’s Irish genes. Not only could my pale, pasty skin sunburn on a cloudy day, but when I was embarrassed, I turned as red as a stop sign.

  The boy was still holding out the bottle and cloth, but I was too nervous to reach out and take them. Three long seconds passed. Finally, he strode forward and set them down beside me. Then he stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted me to invite him to sit down or give him an excuse to leave. I was too distracted to do either. My thoughts kept returning to the moment of the spill, and with each detailed replay inside my head, my stomach tightened. I had been a total spaz. A bitch even.

  “I feel like such an idiot,” I confessed, hiding my face in my hands. “I’m sorry for freaking out on you like that. You must think I’m some high-maintenance Barbie.”

  The boy took my apology as a sign to join me. He sat and pulled something from his pocket: a phone and earbuds. “Your hair isn’t blond,” he responded. I stared at him, confused by the sudden and strange change of topic, so he clarified: “Like Barbie’s.”

  Oh. He was making a joke. Sheesh, it was impossible to tell with that serious tone and straight-faced demeanor of his. “Right,” I said. “Not like yours.”

  He was towheaded, a blond so light it resembled sunlight reflecting off a fresh bed of snow. And it was styled perfectly, bangs swept up out of his eyes. I almost laughed. He was the Ken to my Barbie. Instead of replying, he reached up and self-consciously touched his hair, checking to make sure every slicked-back strand was in place. When he finished, he fixed his eyes on me again. I waited for him to say something, anything, but he seemed content with the silence.

  I, however, was not.

  “I’m Felicity Lyon, by the way.” Lee-OWN, like the French city.

  I had hoped to keep the conversation going, but for some odd reason, he flinched and looked away.