Prom Night

vi. free to choose

CH 6

He only saw her once, and after that, she only came to him in his dreams. The blinding image of a goddess, an angel's lips, and a sinner's eyes. How could he be expected not to want her? She taunted him, teased him, lured him, pushed him to the edge; all he could do was melt at the mere ghost of her touch. Her eyes were murky, shining with the mischief of a child, laughing at his clumsy attempts to follow her; whether into madness, heaven or hell, or the fucking edge of the world, it didn't matter so long as she was the one leading him there. How could he be expected not to need her? He was merely mortal, after all, and since the beginning of time, mortal men have easily fallen to temptation.

Peter was no exception.

XXX

MAYA SINKS INTO HER PILLOWS, dragging her sheets over her head, hoping to drown out the sound of her alarm. Night after night, it's the same insomnia until the early morning hours when she manages to fall asleep for a few minutes before a nightmare wakes her. This time it's her alarm, which she would argue is equally excruciating at the moment.

No nightmares, the thought shifts her groggy mind. "No nightmares," she whispers, eager to share her small feat with the world or at least her covers. Lazily she sits up, stretching and anxious to rid herself of her walking nightmares, as well.

Peter had been gone for two days now, and in those two days, she was able to conjure up a list of the likes and dislikes of the two boys. Without Peter, they had been much easier to read, and with her one-on-one time with each of them, it should be easy to control them somewhat. The first step was to let her hair down again. After cutting it a week ago, Maya had hoped the boys would stop playing with it, but that hadn't happened, so she resorted to putting her hair up into a bun away from their grimy fingers.

She stands in front of her mirror, brushing her short locks of hair. It was an invitation of sorts; she was allowing them to play with her hair, and acting docile and obedient would allow for less suspicion. Maya fixes her skirt, hiking it up an inch higher than usual and tucking her shirt into it, observing how it lets more of her figure show. She cringes, imagining their slimy gazes on her, eyeing her legs and curves, and--she looks away from her reflection. She has to do this. The more pleased they are, the more distracted they'll be. She needs to do this for her plan to work.

"It'll only be for a bit," Maya promises her reflection, tugging on Peter's jacket, the one he'd given her a while back, and she had never bothered to return ( and had briefly considered burning.) She wonders if it's too much wearing his jacket, if it may raise suspicion and give her away. Maya sighs, wishing she had someone to confide in. But all her friends are gone, off to college or suspiciously having moved or transferred schools. It was too perfect a way to isolate her to be a coincidence.

Maya feels a lump in her throat and frowns, "Stop being a crybaby." She chastises herself, focusing on fixing her tie. Then, a knock sounds at her door, and she turns; her mother emerges in a towel and robe, clearly having just finished her shower.

"Morning?" Maya greets uncertainly. Usually, the two saw each other at breakfast before Maya left for school on her bike; her mother hated anyone seeing her before she got herself ready. "What's up?"

"Hi--um...Peter Remington is waiting for you outside." Her mother seems just as confused, her tone stunned, "I didn't know the two of you were friends."

Maya feels sick. What the hell was he doing at her house? Again? She hadn't even had a chance to prepare herself to see any of them, let alone him. She grips the fabric of her skirt in fists, begging her heart to slow down. "We're--" Not, she almost slipped out. She can't say that; otherwise, how is she supposed to explain Peter's presence? Maya forces out a laugh, "We are. Kind of? Um, after that dinner, we started talking, and he offered to give me a ride since my house is on his way to school."