“It’s annoying, actually.”
He laughs. Then he reaches across the table and grabs my hand, making all my nerves light up.
“Believe me, I’m not perfect,” he says.
From that point on things go really well. Christian’s a model date. He’s charming, attentive, thoughtful. Not to mention hotness personified. For a while I forget all about my purpose. I just dance. I let that magnetic feeling of being near him fill me up until everything else falls away. I’m literally having the time of my life.
Until Kay shows up. Of course she’s gorgeous in this lavender lace gown that hugs her shoulders and accentuates her tiny waist. Her dark hair is pinned up, curls cascading down to brush the back of her neck. Something in her hair catches the light and sparkles. She has one elbow-lengthwhite- satin-glove-covered arm curled around her date’s waist as she walks in, laughing up into his face like she’s having a marvelous time. She doesn’t even look in our direction. She pulls her date onto the dance floor as the next slow song begins to play.
Christian draws me closer. Our bodies come together. My head fits perfectly against the curve of his shoulder. I can’t help but close my eyes and breathe him in. And suddenly I’m having the vision again, the strongest I’ve ever had it.
I walk down a dirt road through the forest. Christian’s truck is parked at the road’s edge. I smell smoke. My head feels clouded with it. I start to move away from the road, deeper into the trees. I’m not worried. I know exactly where to find him. My feet take me there without me even having to direct them. When I see him, standing there with his back to me in his black fleece jacket, his hands in his pockets, I’m filled with that familiar grief. The intensity of the sadness makes it hard to breathe. I’m so fragile in that moment, like I could be shattered into a million pieces.
“Christian,” I call.
He turns. He looks at me with a mix of sorrow and relief.
“It’s you,” he says. He starts to walk toward me. Behind him, the fire crests the hill.
It’s raging toward us, but I don’t feel afraid. Christian and I walk toward each other until we’re standing face-to-face.
“It’s me,” I answer. “I’m here.” I reach out and take his hand, which feels easy, like I’ve been with him all my life. He lifts his other hand to touch my cheek. His skin’s so hot it’s like a burn, but I don’t pull away. For a moment we stay like that, standing still as if time has stopped, as if the fire isn’t coming for us. And then we’re suddenly in each other’s arms, holding each other tightly, our bodies pressing together like we’re becoming one person, and the ground is falling away beneath us.
I’m back at the dance, gasping for breath. I look up into Christian’s wide, green eyes.
We’ve stopped dancing and are standing in the middle of the dance floor staring at each other. My heart feels about to beat out of my chest. A wave of dizziness crashes over me, and I sway, my knees suddenly wobbly. Christian’s arms steady me.
“You okay?” He glances around quickly to see if people are watching us. They are.
Over his shoulder I see Kay, who looks at me with open hatred in her eyes.
“I need some air.” I break free and run toward the door onto the balcony, bursting out into the cool night. Leaning against the wall, I close my eyes and try to calm my racing heart.
“Clara?”
I open my eyes. Christian’s standing in front of me, looking as shaken as I am, his face pale in the lamplight.
“I’m okay,” I say, smiling to prove it. “It just got a little stuffy in there.”
“I should get you something to drink,” he says, but he doesn’t go anywhere.
“I’m okay.” I feel stupid. Then a flash of anger. I didn’t ask for any of this. So I will fly away with Christian in my arms. And then what? Gorgeous Christian Prescott will go off to save the world, and my part will be done. I’ll have completed — and served — my purpose.
It’s like I’m a prop in someone else’s life.
“I’ll go get that punch,” says Christian.
I shake my head. “This was a bad idea.”
“What?”
“You don’t want to be here with me,” I say, meeting his eyes. “It’s still all about Kay.”
He doesn’t answer.
“I thought I felt this connection between us but. I wanted you to like me, that’s all, really like me. What you and Kay had — have — whatever, I’ve never had that.” To my horror there are tears in my eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says finally, moving to lean against the wall next to me. He looks over at me earnestly. “I do like you, Clara.”
I’m starting to get whiplash from the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on all night.
I’m also getting a headache.
“You don’t even know me,” I say.
“I’d like to.”
If only he knew how important this is. But before I have a chance to reply, the door opens. Brady Hunt steps out.
“They’re announcing the prom king,” he says, looking at Christian expectantly.
Christian hesitates.
“You should go,” I tell him. Brady looks at me curiously before going back inside.
Christian goes to the door and holds it open for me, but I shake my head.
