The Opposition

Chapter 22: Carter

 The gist, coming from Landon and Dimitri was simple: leave her the fuck alone. Actually Landon put it by saying, "She doesn't give a fuck about you and you shouldn't give a fuck about her. She's screwing with your head, man. It may seem all nice now while you're partners, but third semester has started and you're just going to go back to bitching about each other. Don't forget that your competitive asses are going to be fighting against each other for the end of the year's Principal's List, not just the one that comes out on Tuesday. Don't risk all that academic shit you've worked towards for some girl who looks at you like she couldn't care less if you were six feet under." If anyone's good at tough love, it's Landon. Surprisingly, Dimitri wholeheartedly agreed with him. And they're right, of course. So, I'm taking their advice and putting the greatest possible distance between the two of us. It's really fucking hard–especially when she's walking around a gym in nothing but a bra and shorts with her belly button piercing on display–but really fucking necessary.

It's 4:30 PM and the ball is taking place in some empty room with hardwood floors on the first floor of the hotel. I still don't know what we're supposed to do when we get there. Socialize? Dance? How many of these private schoolers have ballroom dancing experience. Definitely not me. The only dancing I've ever done was during the small period of time I did theatre, but I was better at stunts than dance routines.

I packed a black suit to wear, which I pair with leather loafers and black rings to match my earrings. I try to slick my hair back with hair gel, but it just doesn't look right, so I ruffle it up with the tips of my fingers. Sadie's been locked in the bathroom for forty minutes, presumably doing her makeup. When she finally opens the door and steps out, I feel my breath catch and I curse Landon and Dimitri for making staying away from her seem way easier than it is. She has glittery gold eyeshadow on her eyelids, paired with sharp black winged liner. Her plump lids are a glossy nude. I wonder what they would feel like if I kissed her. Shut the fuck up, Carter. Her hair falls in curls down her back with a few delicate braids throughout it. She's dressed in the shirt I gave her to use as PJs. Something about her in glamorous makeup and hair while wearing my ratty oversized shirt is making me fucking crazy.

"Is Felix going?" She asks.

"I think so," I tell her. He texted something about suffocating from the collar of his shirt, so it seems pretty likely.

"Cool," she says, opening the armoire that she put her dress in. "Are you heading down?"

"Are we not going down together?" I ask.

"Why would we do that? It's not we are each other's dates." What she says is true, so I don't know why it stings. "You go down."

"Okay..." I reply.

I turn around to walk out of the door, but she places a hand on my arm and stops me. "Wait," she says, and a small smile dances on her lips. "You still can't do up a tie for shit."

My heart does this weird fluttering thing. You did it wrong. She remembers. She undoes my tie and reties it. Her delicate fingers fiddle around with the fabric and I think I stop breathing.

When she's done, she looks up at me and smirks, "Flustered, Conners?"

"Of course not," I say, but even I can hear how unconvincing it sounds.

"See you down there," she whispers, putting her hands on my chest and gently shoving me towards the door.

There's no way that I'm showing up to this ball early, so I decide to pay Felix a visit. Stepping off onto the seventh floor, I find his room and knock on the door. From inside the room, I hear a crashing sound and a spew of curses before the door is almost pulled off its hinges as Felix yanks it open.