“Oh. Maybe next time,” Bailey said, sounding disappointed.
“Have you seen Vee?”
“Not yet. Who is she coming as?”
“A babysitter. Her date is Michael Myers from
When I made it across the living room, I bumped into Marcie and her date, Robert Boxler.
“Food status?” Marcie asked me authoritatively.
“My mom’s handling it.”
“Music?”
“Derrick Coleman is DJ.”
“Are you working the crowd? Is everyone having fun?”
“I just finished a round.” More or less.
Marcie eyed me with criticism. “Where’s your date?”
“Does it matter?”
“I heard you’re dating some new guy. I heard he doesn’t go to school. Who is he?”
“Who’d you hear that from?” Guess word about Dante and me was getting around after all.
“Does it matter?” she echoed snidely. She scrunched her nose in distaste. “What are you dressed up as?”
“She’s a devil,” Robert said. “Pitchfork, horns, red vamp dress.”
“Don’t forget the black combat boots,” I said, showing them off. I had Vee to thank for them, as well as the red glitter laces.
“I can see that,” Marcie said. “But the party’s theme is famous couples. A devil doesn’t go with anything.”
Just then Patch ambled through the front door. I did a double take to make sure it was really him. I hadn’t expected him to come. We’d never resolved our fight, and I’d pridefully refused to take the first step, forcing myself to lock my cell phone in a drawer every time I was tempted to call him and apologize, despite my increasing distress that he might never call either. My pride immediately turned to relief at the sight of him. I hated fighting. I hated not having him close. If he was ready to mend this, so was I.
A smile flickered over my face at the sight of his costume: black jeans, black T-shirt, black face mask. The latter concealed all but his cool, assessing gaze.
“There’s my date,” I said. “Fashionably late.”
Marcie and Robert turned. Patch gave me a low wave and handed his leather jacket to some poor freshman Marcie had roped into coat duty. The price some girls would pay to attend an upperclassman party was almost shameful.
“No fair,” Robert said, taking off his Batman mask. “The dude didn’t dress up.”
“Whatever you do, don’t call him dude,” I told Robert, smiling at Patch as he made his way over.
“Do I know him?” Marcie asked. “Who is he supposed to be?”
“He’s an angel,” I said. “A fallen angel.”
“That isn’t what a fallen angel looks like!” Marcie protested.
“Hi there,” Marcie said to Patch, her tone more flirtatious than I would have thought with her date standing inches away.
“Hey,” Patch returned, extending acknowledgment with a brief nod.
“Do I know you?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively to one side. “Do you go to CHS?”
“No,” he said without elaborating.
“Then how do you know Nora?”
“Who doesn’t know Nora?” he returned mildly.
“This is my date, Robert Boxler,” Marcie told him with an air of superiority. “He plays quarterback for the football team.”
“Impressive,” Patch answered, his tone just polite enough to scrape by as interested. “How’s the season shaping up, Robert?”
“We’ve had a few rough games, but it’s nothing we can’t bounce back from,” Marcie cut in, patting Robert’s chest consolingly.
“What gym do you use?” Robert asked Patch, eyeing his physique with open admiration. And envy.
“Haven’t had a lot of time lately for the gym.”
“Well, you look great, man. If you ever want to lift weights together, call me.”
“Good luck with the rest of the season,” Patch told Robert, giving him one of those tricky handshakes all guys seem to know instinctively.
Patch and I wandered deeper into the house, winding through hallways and rooms, trying to find a secluded corner. At last he pulled me inside the powder room, kicked the door shut, and locked it. He leaned me back against the wall and fingered one of my red devil ears, his eyes deep black with desire.
“Nice costume,” he said.
“Ditto. I can tell you put a lot of thought into yours.”
Amusement curled his mouth. “If you don’t like it, I can take it off.”
I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “That just might be the best proposal I’ve had all night.”
“My offers are always the best, Angel.”
“Before the party started, Marcie asked me to lace up the back of her Catwoman suit.” I raised and lowered my hands in a weighing gesture. “Between both offers, it’s a tough call.”
Patch removed his mask and laughed softly into my neck, brushing my hair back off my shoulders. He smelled incredible. He felt warm and solid and so very close. My heart beat faster, squeezing with guilt. I’d lied to Patch. I couldn’t forget. I shut my eyes, letting his mouth explore mine, trying to lose myself in the moment. All the while, the lies beat, beat, beat, in my head. I’d taken devilcraft, and I’d mind-tricked him. I was still taking devilcraft.
“Trouble with your costume is, it doesn’t hide your identity very well,” I said, pulling back. “And we’re not supposed to be seen together in public, remember?”
“Just stopping by for a minute. Couldn’t miss my girl’s party,” he murmured. He lowered his head to kiss me again.
“Vee’s still not here,” I said. “I tried her cell. And Scott’s. I got sent to voice mail both times. Should I worry?”
“Maybe they don’t want to be disturbed,” he spoke into my ear, his voice deep and gravelly. He pushed my dress higher up my leg, stroking his thumb over my bare thigh. The warmth of his caress overrode my bad conscience. Sensation shivered through me. I shut my eyes again, this time involuntarily. All the knots loosened. My breath came a little faster. He knew just how to touch me.
Patch lifted me onto the sink’s ledge, his hands splayed on my hips. I got warm and woozy inside, and when he put his mouth on mine, I could have sworn sparks went off. His touch seared me with passion. The fluttery, intoxicating liquid heat of being near him never grew old, no matter how many times we touched, flirted, kissed. If anything, that electric jolt intensified. I wanted Patch, and I didn’t trust myself when I did.
I don’t know how long the bathroom door stood open before I noticed. I jerked away from Patch, mouth gaping. My mom stood in the shadowy entrance, muttering about how the lock had never worked properly, and she’d been meaning to fix it for ages, when her eyes must have adjusted to the dimness, because she stopped mid-apology.
Her mouth snapped shut. Her face blanched . . . then flushed a deep, sizzling red. I’d never seen her look so enraged. “
