Reckless {HS}

nine

Delilah's Pov

The email had popped up that morning, and I stared at the subject line for far longer than necessary: "Attendance Required: Annual Charity Masquerade Ball."

I groaned. The last thing I wanted to do was spend the evening in some overpriced gown, parading around like everything was normal. The constant weight of "H" lingered in the back of my mind, gnawing at me every time I tried to focus on something else. The cryptic messages, those piercing green eyes—no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling of always being watched.

But this ball was part of the scholarship program, one of those "you must attend to network and represent the school" kind of things. I couldn't get out of it without a million questions from professors and students alike. Maybe it would be good to get out of my head for once, I told myself, but I didn't believe it.

After spending hours debating what to wear and tearing apart my closet, I settled on an old dress I hadn't worn in ages. It was sleek, fitted, and a deep red.

I hated that my mind kept going back to him. I hadn't seen him since that night at the club, and yet, the thought of him was constant. I couldn't even pick out a damn dress without thinking of those eyes behind the bandana.

The dress clung to my body in a way that made me feel both powerful and uncomfortable, like I didn't fully belong in it. I stared at myself in the mirror as I slipped on the black velvet mask that came with the invitation. Its delicate lace patterns framed my eyes perfectly, giving me a mysterious, almost otherworldly look. For the first time in a long time, I looked like someone else—someone who could forget.

My hair was swept up in soft curls, and my makeup was heavier than usual—dark eyes, bold lips. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me in the mirror. But maybe that was the point. For tonight, I could pretend to be someone who wasn't constantly haunted by the thought of him.
The masquerade was being held in the ballroom of an old hotel downtown, the kind of place where chandeliers hung like glimmering stars from vaulted ceilings and everyone pretended they were royalty. The grandeur of it all felt suffocating the moment I arrived. Ornate masks and glittering gowns filled the room, everyone hiding behind layers of silk and satin, pretending to be something more than they were.

I stepped out of the car, the soft hum of a violin spilling out from the ballroom as I approached the entrance. Couples in masks and tuxedos glided past me, their laughter echoing in the night air. For a moment, I considered turning around and leaving. What am I doing here?
But I couldn't. Not without more questions. So, I squared my shoulders and slipped inside, pretending like I belonged here as much as the others.

Inside, it was even more extravagant than I had imagined. The room was bathed in soft golden light, with candles flickering in every corner, casting long, dancing shadows along the walls. A grand chandelier hung above, its crystal pieces twinkling like stars, casting delicate rainbows over the polished marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of roses and expensive perfumes, mingling with the laughter of people I barely knew.

I took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and tried to blend in, though the mask on my face felt like a heavy reminder that I didn't belong.
This was supposed to be a distraction, not another reason to feel out of place.

A group of my classmates spotted me and waved me over, their smiles hidden behind their glittering masks. They were laughing, sipping wine, and pretending to enjoy the evening. I wanted to join them, to laugh and drink and pretend that I didn't feel so lost, but my feet wouldn't move.

Instead, I drifted toward the corner of the room, where a large window overlooked the city below. The twinkling lights stretched on forever, a sharp contrast to the opulence behind me. The cool glass under my fingertips grounded me as I stared out, allowing my mind to wander.

For a moment, I imagined what it would be like to escape all of this—this world of masks and expectations, this overwhelming sense of being watched. But no matter how far I ran, I knew that feeling would follow me.

I shook my head, clearing the thought. Not tonight. I wasn't going to let him ruin this. Not again.

But even as I told myself that, I couldn't help but scan the room, looking for a pair of familiar green eyes behind a mask. The thought alone made me shiver.

He wasn't here. He couldn't be.

The night wore on, and I continued to play the part of the dutiful student. I made small talk with professors, sipped champagne, and tried to laugh at the right moments. But underneath it all, I felt disconnected, like I was watching everything from a distance.

As I made my way toward the dance floor, a slow waltz began, couples twirling gracefully under the chandelier. I hovered at the edge, unsure whether to join in or find another excuse to disappear.
That's when I felt it. A shiver down my spine. A familiar, eerie sensation, as if someone was watching me. I turned slowly, my eyes scanning the crowd, but all I saw were unfamiliar masked faces.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling exposed in a way I hadn't before. It was irrational, of course—he couldn't be here. But the feeling wouldn't go away.

The violin played on, the waltz growing slower, more intimate. I felt a presence behind me, the sensation of someone moving closer. My heart raced, but when I turned, there was no one there. Just the crowd, swirling in their masks and gowns.

I tried to laugh it off, shaking my head at my own paranoia. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that no matter how hard I tried to pretend, I would never truly escape him.

I glanced down at the champagne in my hand, watching the bubbles rise slowly to the surface, and sighed.

"Not tonight," I whispered to myself again. But the words felt hollow.