Unmasked

Finn's POV

Prom.

The stupid party where popular kids got more popular and nerds, geeks and whatever the hell more fit into the ugly bag could be more miserable. It was days away, and my brother was forcing me to go.

Solo or not.

"You hate me." I glared at my brother as he took out a warm mug of milk from the microwave. "You had it out for me since the day I was born."

"Okay, now you're taking this a little too far." Johnny said, putting down the mug and reaching for the coffee pot, mixing both drinks. "It's your senior prom, bro. Mom and Dad want you to go."

My eyebrows jumped, "You've been talking to them about this?"

"Sure. Mom memorized the date! Marked it on the calendar and everything." How had I managed to overlook that? The damn thing was hanging on the fridge. "They want you to go and have fun."

Fun? Okay, I could see why my brother didn't get me. In his day, he'd sat at the jock table. He hadn't been a total outcast because of his money status. But Mom knew how I hated rich school. Apart from my obvious two friends, it had been the worst life experience.

"Tough luck. I'm not going."

Flip-flops clapped on tile. Johnny smiled a thousand-suns smile, meaning Carly was the one stumbling through the living room. He held out the mug he'd been preparing, like every other weekend morning. Carly took it and he leaned down, kissing the top of her sandy hair.

"Good morning, Finn." She greeted after the first sip. I huffed a hey. "Morning, handsome."

Aaaaand that's when they started sucking face.

"I'm not going to prom." I got out between a mouthful of Cap'n Crunch cereal.

Breaking free from each other, big brother reached over the island, ruffling my hair, "Tough luck. You are."

I swallowed, groaning.

"Look, they won't be home 'till after prom. Tell them I went. They'll never know."

"No can do, Huckleberry. Mom wants proof." He smirked.

Photos. Mom wanted photos. God damn it.

I face bumped the table.

"I remember my prom," Carly leaned on the counter, mug cupped between her hands. "The theme was Starry Night. Funny enough, it poured that night. Not an actual star came into view."

Johnny laughed.

"What's yours about?"

"I don't know. I don't care."

Carly's eyebrows arched, "Aw, come on, Finn. Isn't there a girl you like? You could ask her."

When had this become about my love life?

"There's no girl," I stirred the last bit of cereal. "They're all stuck up snobs."

I didn't see, but I felt my brother and my future sister-in-law exchange glances. There was a heavy sigh as I finished up breakfast.

As I cleaned up, Johnny and Carly talked about their meeting with the wedding planner. The thing was five months down the road, geez. This really wasn't the surfer brother I'd grown up with.

Before I left, words followed me like a haunting poltergeist.

"Girl or no girl, you're going to prom. Case closed."

God have mercy on my poor soul.

***

I got dressed in jeans, a Green Day T-shirt and checkered black-and-white sneakers. I skipped shaving, a part of my weekend ritual, and got my phone, keys and wallet.

Once I made my way to the loft's door, I saw my sister's door still closed. Bet she was wide awake, drawing and making clothes come to life. April went hours with no food once stroke of genius hit her.

I drove all the way from Brooklyn to Carnegie Hall, easing up on 5th Avenue. No parking spot available. Unless it had a meter. Sighing, I took it. After feeding it some coins, I walked inside a modern building where doors were opened for you.

Classy.

Seconds of annoying elevator tunes later, I rung apartment 4J.

Shuffling came from beyond the door, I could hear light bickering.

Thomas swung open the door. His face and eyes weren't all that welcoming. If I were anyone else, I would've hightailed.

"What are you doing here?"

This was not the time for amnesia.

"I'm here because you and my brother decided to pull a villain team-up on me. Hey, Ava." I said as she walked behind Thomas, eating a bowl of ice-cream. She licked the spoon before waving at me. "Why are you forcing me into prom? It sucks." Thomas smirked. "You suck."

"Yeah, yeah. I thought you were coming around five..." I shoved my phone in his face, he trailed off. A hinting grin took up his face. "Guess I got sidetracked."

Yeah, I'll bet.

"Let me just grab my jacket, man."

Sighing, I stayed leaning on the door frame waiting for Trip. I looked to their big-ass TV. Ava was watching some gardening show. Suddenly she twisted around, bowl in hand, staring at me.

"Prom will only suck if you let it suck. You could always invite a girl." Because I was sure any of those spoiled brats would say yes. Not that I'd ever ask them. "It doesn't need to be someone from our school, maybe someone from your old one?"

"I haven't talked to anyone for over a year." There hadn't been many to talk to in the first place.

Ava did something funny with her lips. A pout and frown thrown in together. Thomas chose then to stroll in, from their bedroom, and he just stopped. When he looked at her, he... stopped. I swear the dude's face melted into an ol' big softy smile. Ava's eyes slid to his. She smiled brightly. The kind of smile my brother gave Carly.

"Okay, lovebirds, I rather face a tux fit than play third wheel. Let's go."

Trip snapped out of his daze and Ava snapped to her feet.

"Remember, my dress is—"

"Blue."

"Right, so your tie has to be—"

"Blue," he smirked. "To match your dress. I know. You've only said it a million times for the last three days. It's the last time I let you go shopping with Valerie—I swear."

She walked him to the door, where I was anxiously tapping my foot.

"I always cared about prom."

"Really?"

Her face wavered, "Well, maybe not always, but every girl likes prom. It's a big night."

Kissing her goodbye, Thomas walked with me to the elevator. After we went down we took my car. Thomas' had two cars—both were bombs—but one he rarely used. It was a G-turbo Porsche. Months ago, he'd crashed it, but he worked on it in my Dad's garage. The other, was an SUV.

He liked riding in my Chevy, though. Had to admit, my baby was sick.

Thomas yapped away directions between changing music stations. Before I realized where he'd taken us, we were in one of the most expensive streets of New York. He told me to keep driving down Madison Avenue and I had to do my best not to turn the car around, feeling closer to a trap.

"Here?" I hissed, after feeding another meter. Damn this city. Trip kept on walking like we weren't making our way into one of New York's most expensive stores. "Okay—have you forgotten I don't have a roll of bills in my wallet?"

A woman just leaving Barneys New York—the place we were heading into—glimpsed our way. Her white dress was immaculate and she had big sunglasses from some fancy brand, not to mention the hair. It was pinned high and in many twists.

She stole more than one brief glance at Thomas. He didn't look at her once, though.

"Trip," I whined.

"You remind me of the little sister I never had." He mussed, chuckling. "A sister who whines her way through life."

I fumed.

"You're an ass."

We passed numerous showcases in the lobby, I'd been afraid to bump into one—I didn't want to get indebted. Which would definitely happen if I broke anything here.

On the inside, Barneys' walls were painted in white, some had artistic designs. Like cubism. Some floor patches had black-white tiling, those places were close to dressing rooms. There were red and white couches for people to sit and wait.

Thomas had dispatched clerk after clerk, so we could roam around. I got the feeling they hadn't liked that two teenagers had walked in. The look Jeeves was sending my way told me I wasn't dressed enough to be here—maybe he was afraid we'd track mud inside?

I'd hate for them to pull out a mop.

Having more than enough, I grabbed Trip's shoulder. He paused, mid-browsing through a row of silky looking jackets.

"What?"

"What? I can't afford anything here, Thomas. I was going to rent something—rent." It sounded stupid to buy a tux for something I was being forced into.

He let go of the jacket, clasping a hand on my shoulder.

"My Dad's paying for this." My eyes had just rolled to the back of my skull.

"We—I am not letting your Dad pay for this. I don't even want..."

"He's not paying. Not really. He gave me money for my tux, only the sum he gave me was very... generous." He shrugged. "Look, Finn, I know you don't want to go... But you are going. The least you can do is dress to impress. Maybe you'll score a lady."

Trip winked a blue eye. Then his attention shifted back to suits. He shuffled through many, like he knew the difference between them. God damn, to me they were all the same.

"You... you can't just wink and expect me to agree." I mumbled when he pulled one out, holding it for me.

"Yes, I can."

Sometimes I really, really hated him.

Jeeves was coming over again, probably thinking Trip was being grabby hands, but this time Thomas didn't send him packing. He shoved the suit the guy's way.

"My friend's going to need matching wool pants, a silk dress shirt. Beige, white, whichever fits better. And..." His piercing eyes lunged for me. I took a minor step back. Minor. "A black bow tie."

Jeeves looked like he'd just lost his shit. Hell, I was seeing Thomas in a whole new light.

"Yes, sir," the up-tight dude blinked. "Will... that be all?"

"No. I'm going to need a Ralph Lauren. Black wool-blend, two button "Anthony" tuxedo tailored. Also with matching trousers. And I need to see blue ties, a tone stronger than baby blue."

The man's jaw had all but dropped. He was looking at Thomas like he was the God of High Fashion.

After scampering off to gather Trip's stuff, I blinked. He rolled his eyes, taking a seat on one of the arm chairs.

"My Mother's a famous designer." He reminded bitterly.

I nodded, still aghast.

Minutes after ditching my clothes and putting on the shirt, coat and pants—oh, not to forget the shiny black shoes Thomas demanded—I didn't recognize myself. Was it really me staring back?

Thomas waltzed into the changing area like he owned it. He was looking like a millionaire's kid. Which, he was. Duh.

"Looking good, Matthew's. Maybe there's hope for you yet." I let out a bark of sarcastic laughter. "But seriously, man, it looks good on you. You'll be beating girls off you with a stick and before the night ends you might even get some action."

Wrong. So very wrong. If I ever did anything with those girls my moral code would've died—I should be sent to a nut house.

"Don't count on that part," I mumbled, fingering the bow tie. "This doesn't feel right. Letting you pay."

Thomas sighed.

"Do you like the suit?"

"It's not about me liking it, Trip, it's not—"

"Shut up and answer the fucking question."

Huh. Okay.

"Yeah, I guess." His eyes narrowed on me. It was like having Johnny breathing down my neck. "Fine. I like the stupid tux."

Trip's bad-cop glare dropped and he smirked a winning smirk.

"That's what I'm talking about, Matthew's. Confidence." He slapped my back. "The tux is yours."

***

Valerie's POV

Prom.

The single most important moment in a high school girl's life.

How come I wasn't feeling the teeniest bit nervous? You were supposed to feel nervous and excited for something so big, but all I felt was a sense of duty. The ending of a cycle. High school would come to a close, a few weeks after today. I would graduate and go to College. Which reminded me, I needed to pick one. ASAP.

But tonight wasn't about College, it was about me looking at my best and obfuscate every other girl—perhaps not Ava—and shine like a radiant star atop the tallest, prettiest Christmas tree. Now if only my escort would arrive so Jackson would stop pestering my patience... everything would be perfect.

"He's gay."

"W-what?" I stammered, smoothing my hands along the leather panel-sides of my dress.

Jackson was sitting on the wide couch, watching a hockey game. It was impressive how he could annoy me without losing a second of the action—alas, it was a useless skill.

"Sebastian Hughes—you're date." Not this again, I thought, groaning. A smirk crossed his lips, this time, he looked up. "Come on, think about it. He's never seen with a girl."

"Him and his girlfriend just broke up." I repeated the not-so-gossipy piece. That had been, like, a month ago. "If you think being with a girl is proof a guy's not gay, I'm worried about you."

With a deep laugh, he got up, sauntering my way. Instinct told me to step back, pick up my diamond-glittering clutch and smack his face. Another part, told me to stay and play it cool. Not to show intimidation.

A hand lifted, reaching for my face—Don't flinch, I willed myself. Jack's movement was slow, gentle, as he caressed my right cheek with the back of his hand.

"I don't think it's good policy to cheat, do you?" A twisty feeling was shot dead the moment it stirred.

Eyes hardening, I said, "It's not cheating if we're not together. Which we aren't."

"You'll come around sooner or later. Sooner than later."

Simone whisked past us faster than a whirlwind, heading for the door. Finally. Prince Charming had arrived in his long, luxurious limousine. All that was left for him to do, was kiss my hand before we left.

"Miss Valerie, Mister Hughes has arrived." Simone called politely, sending Jackson a droning glare.

Holding up his hands, he backed up two steps. The distance I deemed safeish between us. Grabbing my hand bag, I swayed lightly toward the entrance, where Simone kept the door open.

I confess, Jackson's looks attracted me a wee bit more than Sebastian's. My date was standing still on the door mat, one hand shoved in a pocket, another holding a bouquet of pink Orchids. His smile belonged to one of those dental ads, blindingly bright—more so than mine.

"I know you said no corsage, but showing up empty handed would've been rude and thoughtless." He held out the beautiful flowers. I smelt their rich scent and while I passed them off to Simone—who should really get going before she tried to marry us on spot—I felt Sebastian's green eyes tracing every sexy silhouette of my body.

Gay my ass.

"You look..."

Suddenly, there was a nosy step-brother leaning on the threshold and I considered learning karate.

"Jaw-dropping beautiful? Yeah, Valerie has that effect on guys." Jackson cut in, smiling big. "Even guys like you."

Sebastian's smile dropped away. He frowned, "What?" he looked from Jack to me, utterly confused.

I waved Jackson's way with a aloof laugh.

"Don't mind him. He's joking—he's a joker." Nodding, my date smiled slightly. "Can we..."

Sebastian was the epitome of politeness and formality all rolled into one, because he stretched out his hand for Jackson to shake.

Jackson spun on his heel, leaning in to whisper.

"Ooh, confidence. Ain't that sexy."

Straightening, my Ex pivoted around, shaking it out. I could tell the moment he applied extra force—when Sebastian winced.

"Nice hand,"

"I play ball in College." He stated, proudly. "So you're taking Val to prom?" Sebastian muttered a yeah. "Well, don't let her drink too much or she'll take up all the dance floor—oh," he stopped the jab I aimed at his side. "Have her home by midnight."

"You have a curfew?"

I shook my head, hating that the situation was getting away from me.

"No—I don't have a curfew. Or a drinking problem." I shoved past Jackass-Jackson, setting foot outside. The elevator was two feet away—seriously. "Let's go." I said, grabbing Sebastian's imported tux clad-arm.

"Absolutely." He breathed. "Ah, don't worry, I'll have your sister back safe and sound."

I knew Jackson's spine had turned to stone, rigid, at the S word. I didn't need to glance back to know he was gritting his teeth. By the time he could talk without spilling the beans of our old history, the elevator doors parted, welcoming us.

I still caught the hiss, though.

"Step-sister."

***

Sebastian refilled my champagne flute. I kept a grin in. Jackson's 'warnings' had fallen on deaf ears—take that you lying bastard!

We'd been stuck in a traffic jam for about ten minutes, before the driver made it past Rockefeller Center. Through tinted windows, I snuck a peek at our destination up ahead. The shimmering sign of Edison's Ballroom glittered richly, like thousands of fireflies had gathered around it for this very special occasion. Two security guards—dressed in formal uniform—stood on each side of the door. Limos were pulling up, people piled out onto the silver carpet leading inside.

"I'm going ahead and say Dome is your favorite." Sebastian chuckled as I sipped—more like gulped—down another inches of champagne.

Placing the crystal cup on a holder, I lifted a bare shoulder.

"What can I say, I've always had the taste of a pure aristocrat."

My date uncrossed his leg, wrinkling out the flawless white suit. Sebastian and me looked like domino pieces, both in white and black. Aside from the leather sides, my pencil dress was the most immaculate white. Not eggshell—pure white. He had a dark shirt underneath a blanch tux and pressed pants. No tie.

"I've noticed," his eyes crinkled with a soft smile. "I'm honored to be your date, by the way. There were so many other choices out there." He took his own sip, my eyes were lingering on his incredibly erect posture. "I heard Gabriel Holland was interested in you."

"That was a while back. Nothing happened, though."

"Lack of compatibility?" That, and I'd just broken up with my secret boyfriend, whom he'd just met as my step-brother.

"Yep."

Eyes flashing outside, I saw we were next in line to hop out.

Slowly, Hughes leaned forward, calling my attention. I felt like asking 'what the hell' when he reached with a finger, poking a dangling, long earring. His finger was real close to touching my cheek, but for some reason, I felt no tingling, my heart wasn't jumping from cavity to cavity.

Lord, what was wrong with me? Here I was, Valerie Monet, with Charming Hughes—his given nickname—and no body parts were reacting. Smile, I chanted, having to force my lips to turn up. All the while, I was thinking how dark his hair was.

I'd always liked dark hair—Jackson's hair was brown, deep chocolaty.

Blonds, though, blonds were...

"Earth to Valerie? Where did you go?" I shook my head so fast and strongly, I thought my high chignon would come undone.

"Nowhere, I was in the car all along."

The joke had the desired effect, made him laugh. Right after, someone opened the door for us to step out. He went first, then, I climbed out. Easing my high heels onto the sidewalk, I looked up. Numerous people had arrived, some were standing outside waiting on friends, others had long ago gone inside. Others weren't here for prom, not like we were, they were capturing the moment with photographs as seniors and their dates marched down the welcome mat.

I took the arm Sebastian offered and we waltzed inside, smiling as camera flashes snapped at our every move.

The inside was exactly what I expected. A soft, pink-purple ambiance, shrouding the room in peace. Beyond the hall, was the main room where the bar, stage and tables were. On the second floor, was a VIP room along with numerous powder-rooms. Being the school's Queen Bee had left me in charge of planning out this whole event and I had to say, I was quite proud. This venue was elegant, featuring a modern art-deco setting and those chandeliers? They were certainly pieces of art. Large spheres with several fake, tiny bulbs, hanging from stringy silver threads, where light came from.

The central pieces on each round table were lithe branches of cherry trees, with pretty blossoms.

"Someone outdid themselves..." I heard someone mutter as we passed.

I scoffed, stopping dead in my tracks. I twisted around to tell whoever it was just who had outdone herself...

Only whoever it had been had gotten away because... because I was busy with someone else. I didn't even notice when my arm slipped from Sebastian's or that he whispered something in my ear. There was this strange loss of breath, something so emptying and hot, I had to swallow.

Perhaps there wasn't a problem with my hormones, after all. But maybe something in my cerebral cortex wasn't computing—or maybe my eyes? Could I've had to much of the bubbly stuff?

Only I was definitely not the only girl knocked back by his appearance. Finn Matthew's actually looked like a freaking movie star. Wavy hair styled back—some light, brown highlights stood out among the blond—wearing what looked like a thousand dollar suit and Italian shoes. He stood out from everyone else, shoulders filling out the designer coat perfectly, strong chin and jaw popping, the long lips pursed, slim eyebrows—

I stopped. On his eyes.

He was staring straight at me.