Trial By Fire (Going Down in Flames #3)(66)
“Then why didn’t you show us?” Clint asked.
Bryn gestured at the girls still waiting in line. “We didn’t want to hog the room.”
“And this way we remain women of mystery,” Ivy added.
Clint smiled and shrugged like it was no big deal. Valmont’s lips pressed together in a thin line, but he didn’t say anything. After parting ways with her friends, Bryn and Valmont returned to her dorm room where she headed straight to her armoire to hang up her new dress. For some reason, Valmont followed behind her like he was waiting for her to do or say something. But she didn’t have a freaking clue what he wanted. “Is something wrong?”
He stared up at the ceiling. “I’m trying to figure out how to say this without starting a fight.”
Great. She was never going to another dance again. Crossing her arms over her chest, she waited.
“Who are you wearing that dress for?”
What was he talking about? “I don’t understand the question.”
He reached into her armoire where the copper dress from the fall dance still hung. “Did you buy this dress with someone in mind?”
“Ivy forced me to try on a dress even though I didn’t think I was going. I loved it, so I bought it.”
“So you didn’t buy this for Zavien?”
Seriously? “I bought the dress because I liked it. Zavien didn’t have anything to do with it.” Liar, her subconscious screamed. “This dress,” she touched the navy-blue dress, “was bought to attend the Valentine’s Day dance with you. So this dress should rank higher on whatever weird boyfriend rating system you’re using.”
Valmont froze. “Did you just call me your boyfriend?”
And now the situation had reached a whole other level of crap-tastic-ly awkward. She ducked her head. “That’s kind of how I think of you.”
One thousand one, one thousand two, one thousand three…she counted seconds while waiting for a response, which so far he wasn’t making.
“Bryn?” Valmont whispered.
Her stomach twisted and pitched like she was riding a roller coaster. She was afraid to make eye contact, so she kept her head down. “What?”
His warm hand touched her chin and pressed up, signaling he wanted her to look at him. She met his gaze, which was far too serious, and it felt like the room shifted under her feet. She forced a laugh. “Forget I said that. I shouldn’t have assumed you were interested in that title.” And why in the hell isn’t he interrupting me and telling me he wants to be my boyfriend?
“Remember what we said about how even if we have an argument or a misunderstanding that I’ll still be your knight, so there’s no reason to become sick?”
She nodded and backed away from him. “Yep. Not going to get sick, but you should go.” Because she was going lose it and either cry or flash-fry him.
“You want me to go?” He seemed surprised.
Fire banked in her gut. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A memory reared up and made her laugh. “Jaxon once told me what I want is irrelevant. I guess he was right.”
Valmont bristled. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t even think about getting mad because I mentioned Jaxon. Some of the things he’s told me have been painfully true. This happens to be another one of those times.”
Valmont closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How did we end up here?”
“You followed me into my room.”
He looked at her likes she was being ridiculous. “No. I mean how did we end up in this situation, irritated with one another over something stupid, again?”
So, her thinking of him as her boyfriend was stupid. Flames crawled up the back of her throat. She took a moment and pushed them back down, but smoke drifted from her lips as she spoke. “You know what? Forget about it. I’ll never refer to you as anything but my knight ever again. Happy?”
“No.” He closed the gap between them and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’m about as far from happy as I can be, because I can’t ever really be your boyfriend.”
“You can’t? Why not?”
“Because every time we walk out that damn door, I can’t be anything but your knight.”
Bryn latched onto the light at the end of this dark murky tunnel. “Wait a minute. Are you saying you want to be my boyfriend, but you’re mad because we can’t act that way in public?”
“Of course that’s what I’m saying.”
“Thank God.” She felt her body sag with relief. She moved forward and leaned her head against his chest. “I thought you meant you didn’t want to be my boyfriend.”
“How could you—”
She growled, and it wasn’t a friendly growl. “You just traumatized me. So I suggest you shut up and hug me.”
She felt his chest vibrate with laughter, but he wrapped his arms around her and whispered, “We need to work on our communication skills.”
“Agreed.”
…
The Valentine’s Day dance seemed to provide the distraction students needed to avoid thinking about war and politics. Girls talked about their dresses. Boys griped about their tuxedos. All in all, the balance of normal teenage drama in the universe seemed to be restored.