Shelby emerges from the front doors of the main building, practically glowing. She's clutching Evan's arm like an expensive purse, and the moment she notices me, she lets out a high-pitched screech that might shatter glass.
"ANGELA!"
Heads turn. Conversations pause. I became the quad's unwilling centerpiece.
Shelby jogs over, her locks bouncing and her smile as broad as the sky. "Evan invited me to the ball! Isn't it just adorable? We are going to look beautiful together. This marks our first official school event as a couple! "I'm so excited I could scream!"
"You already did," I say, but she is too busy bouncing with ecstasy to hear me.
She takes my hands and bounces up and down, shaking me like a Coke bottle. I cannot help but smile. Her cheerfulness is contagious, and I'm relieved. I would rather not play twenty questions with Evan. Evan avoids frank responses, and I find his arrogance intolerable. They're an unlikely couple—her sunlight to his thundercloud—but it works.
Best friend logic, I suppose.
Shelby pulls me into a hug so tight I can't breathe. I massage her back and giggle quietly. She deserves it. It's wonderful to see her succeed after going through so many heartbreaks.
Nevertheless, I mentally prepare to have a conversation with Evan. It's just a precautionary measure. Best buddy code of honor.
Evan's sneer says it all, as if he were the only one who understood the punchline. "So, Ang," he drawls, stretching my name into a yawn, "are you still following your mother's renowned 'no dating until college is over' rule? Books first, boys never, yadda yadda." He leans back on his heels, as if he's just thrown a grenade into the crowd, waiting for the aftermath.
His eyes sparkle with a mix of fun and mock-seriousness, as if he's taunting me while also daring me to prove him wrong.
He spins a finger near his temple, eyes crossed like a cartoon. "Totally nuts, right?"
My jaw dropped. "I apologize, what? Did you just audition for middle school improv, or was it intended to be funny?"
"And then there was James…" He says the name casually, as if he were buying fries.
I fold my arms and level him with a glance. "Wow. Evan made a bold move. Bringing up exes you've never met. What's next, will you psychoanalyze my kindergarten crush while you're at it?"
"He was a total douche," Evan says calmly. "Ang, honestly, what did you ever see in him? He treated you like crap. You deserve someone who will worship the ground you walk on. I just had to say it."
He pats my shoulder as if he is doing me a big service. Shelby pulled me into another hug, cradling me as if I had just limped away from combat.
"Anyway, I've got this cousin," Evan begins, his voice dropping as if he's telling me a secret. "He was sent here from Santorini. Two years older. Depending on who you ask, you either abandoned or fled the island's nightlife. My parents think he's seeking something more stable, something that feels genuine.
"No one discusses why he actually left Santorini. Some family members believe he became involved with the wrong crowd. Other family members murmur that his family wanted him away from the island's shadows, and there might have been a girl."
"I thought maybe you two could hang around. Or go to a ball. Or at least talk." "You possess a certain normalcy that works in your favor." He gestures between himself and Shelby, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "Trust me, that's not exactly our brand."
I blink. "I believe I'm all set, Evan. I—"
"Angela Meyler."
Shelby's voice cut through mine like a razor. She places her hands on her hips, giving me the mom look. I lift my eyebrow, amused.
"Just meet him," she explains. "You don't need to fall in love. Just talk. As your best friend, it is my responsibility to pull you back into the game. Evan is fantastic on most days, and they are cousins. So, it's fate."
I sighed. Shelby means well, but since James, I've been a fortress. That connection left scars that I don't want to show. I assumed he was the one. We had plans: an apartment in the city, working at the best hospital, and a future. But he was absentminded, preoccupied, always somewhere else.
Until I saw him after a game one night, arm wrapped around a cheerleader, sucking on her ear as if I didn't exist. He didn't even notice me standing there. My heart didn't simply break; it disintegrated.
He handed me a commitment ring on my eighteenth birthday. He said I was his soulmate. His everything.
What a joke.
The following day, he broke up with me in his basement. Said I deserved better. Never confessed to anything. I flung the ring in his face and walked away, saying farewell to the woman I'd considered a second mother.
That was just over a year ago.
I have rebuilt since then. "Shel. Evan," I smile softly. "I'm in a good place. I'm stronger, smarter, and sharper. I'll attend the Masquerade Ball alone. I'd prefer to leave my choices open."
Shelby pouts dramatically and rolls off Evan's arm, as if she's been fatally hurt.
"Oh, Ang. Sweetie. My love," she whispers, stretching out the word as if it were a spell. "I've already invited Evan and his cousin to join us at IceHouse tomorrow night. After shopping. Just pizza and beverages. There is no pressure. We'll eat, dance, and burn off our carbs."
I purse my lips. "Shelby…"
"Please, Angela. It's just a simple introduction. I will not embarrass you. I promise not to tell any ludicrous stories. I will be on my best behavior. I'll be almost quiet."
She smiles at me. The one capable of melting resolve and bending steel.
I groan. "Fine. But if he even breathes suggestively, I cannot guarantee that he will leave the IceHouse with all of his limbs intact."
Shelby squeals and claps. Evan laughs.
The IceHouse was once a fish factory before a New Yorker converted it into a restaurant-bar-dance club combination. It has become the most popular hangout in our sleepy town. Neon lights, pounding music, and the aroma of fried food and spilled beer. It's where people go to forget who they are or remember who they aspire to become.
As we go through the parking lot, I look up to the sky. The clouds seem low and heavy, as if they were holding something back. The air seems electrified, as if the planet is waiting for something to happen.
Shelby is still discussing clothes, shoes, and how she plans to curl her hair for the ball, but her voice fades into the distance. My thoughts shift to the note. The car. The Message.
You checked the incorrect box.
It was not just a hoax. It felt purposeful. It felt as though someone knew me personally. As if someone were watching me.
Evan's cousin has suddenly arrived in town. From Santorini. A place rich in myth and folklore. A location where gods were once worshipped and fate was etched in marble.
Finally, there's the ball itself.
This year's Masquerade is more than just a party. Rumors have been circulating—quiet ones, whispered in corners and behind closed doors. The invitations were different. Certain students were ordered to attend instead of receiving an invitation. The committee did not send all of the invites.
Someone else, not part of the committee, did it.
I look to Evan, who is giggling at what Shelby said. He appears normal. Harmless. But something about the entire setup feels odd.
Too perfect.
It was all too sudden.
I do not believe in coincidences. Not anymore.