Unmasked

Finn's POV

Here I was. At prom.

The minute I stepped inside, I felt so out of my element it was pitiful. Shutting out all the voices and looks, I walked forward before stopping still.

Her legs were what caught my eye, but the hour-glass figure waist was what made me almost lose my marbles. If I still had any.

Dressed in a tight, pricey dress was Queen Bee herself. Gal' was looking the sexiest I'd ever seen her. My eyebrows furrowed. Had I just admitted Valerie was sexy? That I'd checked her out—? The frown was so deep, I was getting a headache.

Figures. The simple thought of her caused me pain.

Shock rattled my insides as I lifted my eyes to her face. She was staring dead ahead—at me. I spied over a shoulder—no one. Yup, staring at me. It was more intense than her constant staring in art class, more distracting than the times she popped into my head during video game hour.

"You're blocking the way," Thomas' voice floated from behind. I swayed a step forward. "Wow, Finn. Look where you're going."

He'd grabbed my arm just in time to stop a collision between me and the champagne carrier guy.

Ava giggled, one of her arms looped with his.

"I think he saw a pretty girl."

"I didn't," I rebuffed way to quickly. "And if I had, I wouldn't stumble into people like a drugged duck. I'm not that socially awkward."

Trip let go of me, nodding forth. We were walking in her direction and I could feel my face flushing an unhealthy red color. It was nothing compared to the burning in my lungs, though, I was afraid I'd start spewing fire.

A hand fell on the curve of Valerie's waist, jostling her. It belonged to a guy I'd never seen before, with bright eyes, dark hair, in a white tux and dark shirt that probably cost more than all my outfit combined. And Trip had paid a pretty penny for it.

She looked up at him, blinking, then smiled as he said something in her ear. She scowled briefly, before Ava reached them.

"She looks beautiful." Thomas muttered, like I wasn't supposed to hear.

"Yeah," I mumbled, trying to get my damn eyes to stop tracing Valerie's pinned up, coal hair.

Trip whirled on me, "Were you checking out my girlfriend?"

Feeling like a fool, I shook my head. Of course he'd been talking about Ava. Duh. He and Valerie mutually ignored each other with an ease I couldn't copy.

"No—but she does look nice?" I offered. His scarred eyebrow kicked up a notch, as did a smirk. "Oh, what now?"

"You said 'yeah' but you weren't talking about Ava, yet, you were looking her way—which means..." he stole a fleeting glance over a shoulder. I felt sweat form between my shoulder blades. "You were checking out Valerie."

Hearing it outside my head made me gag.

"Please. In what world would I be interested in a snobby, manipulative, 95 pound girl of pure evil?"

Trip's eyebrows knitted. I pursed my lips.

"I hadn't said a word about you being interested. But with that passionate label..." he trailed off, chuckling when I rolled my eyes walking past him.

Ava did look good. In a one-shoulder dress, in a metallic blue. The way it was fitted on her waist was just as impressive as Valerie's, these two were seriously on the work-out committee. Thomas wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. Clearly letting every guy in the room know she was off limits.

After fidgeting like a chicken crossing a road, I walked over, hands casually in my pockets. My palms were sweaty. Casually, yeah right.

"...maybe I'll play in College."

"Play what?" I asked, feeling weird for being alone. God, I had no clue why I'd let Johnny and Trip drag me here.

"Lacrosse."

Oh, yeah. Trip used to play at his old school, but once he transferred to St. Joseph, the team was full and honestly, the coach hadn't been keen on having a trouble maker on his team. Of course Christian, the biggest douche canoe on Earth, was on it.

"Do you play?" White Tux dude asked.

"Nah, swimming is more my thing." A passion I'd gotten to rekindle these last months from hitting the gym. "I'm Finn, by the way." I forced my hand out, making sure it wasn't sticky like melted sugar.

"Sebastian Hughes."

Everyone I'd ever met on the Upper East Side inner circle—except Ava—introduced themselves by saying their last name. Like it was supposed to mean something. In the midst of Thomas and Sebastian talking tactics, best players and other technical stuff I didn't begin to understand—or wanted—I was left staring at Valerie. Who still hadn't said a word to me. Not like I was expecting her to. Or wanted.

Her eyes kept flicking between Thomas and her date, while Ava was simply leaning her head on Trip's shoulder, focused on his face.

"I need a drink." Valerie said suddenly, voicing my thoughts. Being third wheel to Thomas and Ava could make you want to rip out your hair, sometimes. They were just too adorable. This coming from a guy.

Sebastian's head snapped down, "Are you sure? You already had champagne."

"I'm fine," she pulled on a sweet-looking smile, but her glare was withering. "I'd worry less about what Jackson says and more about being a good date."

Ouch.

I did my best not to laugh, but the stunned expression on Hughes' face made it hard. Ava and Trip were talking now, probably sparing the guy some humiliation.

"Okay," he said. "What do you want to drink? I'll get it."

"Oh, no. You should've asked me what I wanted when we arrived—not because I pointed it out. I'll get myself." With that said, Ice Queen spun on her high heel and walked for the bar.

Without thinking, I followed.

"I know you're used to following, Matthew's, but I didn't give you permission to follow me."

"Isn't her highness snappy tonight."

She almost knocked into a table chair. Looking straight at me, she stared and kept it up. It was the same stare she'd given me moments earlier, when I'd walked in. there was something more flickering across those round, pretty cinnamon eyes.

"Your hair doesn't look completely uncivilized tonight."

"Huh, thanks?"

For a sporadic second, I thought a giant blush swept over her cheeks, but before I knew it, Valerie was crusading for the bar—again. I had to march to keep up. Darn girl was fast on heels. She could also slip past people easily. Her frame was delicate and small, I was broader and taller. When I arrived at the counter, a pant left me. Valerie was leaning two feet away, breathing deeply, I slid closer.

"Seriously, Matthews, what do you..."

"Get down of your high horse, Monet. I want a drink, too and in case you haven't noticed, there's only one bar." I was surprised by my own edge—the low tone of when I'd spoken her last name. Almost sounded like a growl.

Valerie's tongue skipped across her lips. Her perfectly painted blood-red lips.

"Sir, what can I get you and your date?" A much older voice called from behind the bar.

We both snapped at him.

"She's not my date."

"He's not my date."

The fifty-something old man, wearing a serving uniform—like every other person working the place—looked baffled. I cleared my throat quickly.

"I'll have a beer." The man looked at me funny. I tilted my head. Had I said it wrong? "A beer?" it sounded much quieter.

Next to me, Valerie's hip knocked into mine, pushing me aside.

"He's joking. He'll have a Black Velvet." She smiled pleasantly, but it read much more—as in, 'do it, or off with your head!' "And I'll have a Paradise."

The man turned around to grab a champagne flute. He poured some expensive looking bottle of champagne, filling it halfway, topping it off with stout beer. No ice. The differing densities gave the drink different tonalities, it was almost white on bottom, becoming amber in the middle and almost black at the very top, where the float beer was.

Don't get me wrong, it was really pretty and awing but not what I asked for.

"What the hell?" I asked her. The man had pushed the drink my way, working on hers.

"Did you honestly think I'd let someone serve beer in the prom I planned? The correct answer is no. Of course you'd go for an unsophisticated drink—some people are so predictable." She reached for the now finished Paradise, thanking the barman. "If you're going to show up in a tailored suit with shiny shoes, you have to act the part you dressed for."

Her eyelashes drooped. They were insanely thick, hiding any trace of her eyes. Slowly, Valerie put her lips on the cocktail's rim. While mine had about three colors, hers had a healthy orange juice tonality. My anger kept dialing on and off, a broken switch. I didn't get it.

Why couldn't I just be angry and stay that way?

Once she pulled away, holding the glass elegantly, I noticed her red-lipstick had left a mark on the pristine crystal. My heart tripped over itself, then raced to keep up with strange needs and images. Muscles tensed up.

"Don't just stand there, try it."

I'd seen Valerie order people, just minutes ago, she'd done it with the waiter. But I wasn't part of her little group, I wasn't a blind chic begging for approval.

"You have a real problem with saying 'please', don't you?"

Valerie's head cocked, mouth in a hard line.

"Fine. Don't try it, throw it—"

I found myself taking one step forward, backing Valerie into between two stools. Her back hit the counter. She was cornered, clutching a shimmery hand bag in one hand, and in the other, what was left of her sunny drink. A heartbeat went by. I didn't move. She didn't either, eyes transfixed on my gray ones.

A zing shot inside my bloodstream, growing the stupid need—need I didn't understand. Or I did, any guy knew it, but I just refused to believe I could feel the tinniest shred of attraction for this girl. The look on her, though... it was something else. Something I'd never seen on Valerie's face. And I'd seen plenty of looks in the past weeks. The lines around her eyes had gone soft, her lips were parted, tension lines had vanished from her face entirely—all of her was relaxed.

Valerie braced herself against the bar's counter, almost imperceptibly.

Her nose was small and cute. Kinda like a bunny.

I shot forward, grabbing the drink off the counter. Valerie jumped once our skin grazed. It was the simplest, quickest touch. The back of my thumb against her forearm.

I really needed to kill whatever bug was infecting me. So, I took a long gulp. The taste was... good. Strange, bubbly but not champagne, bitter but not beer. My Father and brother would make me the butt of the joke if they saw me drinking girly drinks.

At least it didn't have a little sombrero on it.

"Slow down," I heard her mutter. "I don't need you to puke on my dress."

"Thanks for the worry, but I can handle my liquor." I'd only ever drunk beer, but I could handle at least four bottles without getting too happy.

"I wasn't worried about you."

Fuming, I took another sip, longer, greedier. I needed it in order not to commit justifiable homicide. I was still trapping Valerie, but she wasn't a ball of bunched up nerves anymore—like when we touched—she wasn't relaxed either, just shifty.

It made my lips quirk.

"Am I making you nervous?"

Her fingers curled tighter on the bag.

"No," she pushed out, glaring. It didn't have the desire impact, not that I was usually intimidated by her. "Where's your date?"

My forming grin faltered.

"Obviously I didn't bring one."

She pulled herself together, straightening. Our chests were inches from brushing. Valerie met my eyes, steadily, usual bravado flaring.

"Aw, no one would say yes to you? Not even girls from Brooklyn?"

The sugar in her tone broke through the weird feeling in my gut. It was fake, it was mean and it was patronizing.

I finished my drink in a pinch—throwing back my head to down it all. Valerie jumped once I reached around her, again, slapping the flute on the counter. My head stayed bent to her level, gray eyes burned holes into hers.

"First," I started, voice gruff. "I didn't invite anyone—I didn't even want to be here. And second, girls from Brooklyn—from anywhere else in the world—are better than you, Valerie Monet. You are the most spoiled, self-centered person I've ever met."

I stayed like that for two seconds. Just looking at her widening eyes, watching as disbelief sprouted. Then, I walked away.

***

I didn't need to look over Trip and Ava to know what they were doing. Kissing. Geez.

In the last hour, we'd eaten food I couldn't name. They had French names. Thank God I'd gotten to pick between Spanish and French and I'd chosen Spanish.

In the last hour, weird things had happened. Aside from my little show down with Ice Queen, who was sitting at our table along with Sebastian. I ignored the fact she was in the chair beside me. It had to be to provoke me, had to be.

Anyway, in the last hour, girls had come up to me asking my name and why I was alone. I'd been called hottie, cutie and one said I had a nice butt. She'd been a little tipsy, though. One of those girls had been Brenda. The same B-I-T-C-H from St. Joseph. She'd had a hard time believing it was me when I told her, and hadn't stopped circling until... Well, she was in the table beside ours. Still stealing glances and flashing languid smiles every time my eyes fell around the room.

About now, I wasn't sure if I wanted to hug Trip or smack him.

I did so not want Brenda vulturing my virgin ass. Not that I wanted to keep my cherry. I just really didn't want it to be with her, or with a girl like her. She used guys like Kleenex.

Thomas once said her and Christian were cheating on Kelly. One more reason not to sleep with her. According to health class, when you slept with someone you're sleeping with every other person they've slept with.

A shiver crawled over my spine.

I didn't want to sleep with Christian. Even if it was through Brenda.

Kelly and Christian were on Brenda's table, so were more two jocks and some girl. I sighed, drumming my fingers on the table. How much longer did I have to sit here and pretend not to feel uncomfortable?

It was just the venue, the guests—it was the girl sitting next to me. I'd never said things like that to someone, and the way I'd said them? It had been mean. I wasn't spiteful.

On cue, a little laugh came from my right.

Ugh.

I couldn't believe I was worrying about her feelings when she sounded perfectly fine. Did she even have a heart to hurt? Maybe it was made of ice.

"Cheer up," Ava poked my cheek. I blinked, looking up from my hands. She was sitting on Thomas' lap, one arm around his shoulders. "You look like you're at a funeral."

I snorted.

"I'd rather shave my hair than be here. Do you know what that feels like? Being forced into something just to make others happy?"

Ava's little smile grew somber, she paused, taking a sharp breath.

"Yeah, I do."

The way she whispered it, like she was remembering a bitter memory, made me regret asking. I knew Thomas didn't tell me everything about himself, and I knew even lesser about his girlfriend. You didn't need to be a genius to know there had been some serious shit going on in their lives when they met.

Trip planted a kiss on her cheek, saying nothing.

"Everybody has to do things they don't want, Finn." He shrugged, tension heavy on his shoulders.

I knew he was right. It just wasn't helpful.

The loud murmur in the room was suddenly cut off by loud interference. We all scrunched our faces, turning to the stage where a white spot of light was shining on. Lily Harper from our English class was standing there, microphone in hand, squinting. A guy—presumably her date—was next to her holding two envelops.

"Hi! I would like to welcome you all to the Prom of St. Joseph. It's the moment you've all been waiting for," she reached for an envelop, waving it, smiling. "Time to crown this year's Prom King and Queen. Okay..." she opened the seal, removing a neat paper from inside, reading it before speaking. "Our Prom Queen is... Valerie Monet!"

Just as the name hit the room, cheers and applause echoed from all different sides. Spot light was shown onto our table, illuminating Valerie in the most wonderful way. Her tight curves were even more prominent now.

She smiled, getting up and walking for the stage as light followed her. It was impeccable not even a hint of hesitation. She'd been riding this train for a long time. I didn't think any of this grace and elegance was born with us.

Up on stage, someone put a dazzling tiara on her head. It was golden, sort of like her eyes.

"And now, our Prom King..." tore another envelop. "Christian Freight!"

Male chorus erupted, from the Lacrosse team, no doubt. Trip laughed. Girls swooned. I stewed. I couldn't care less about him winning a trip to the moon, but something pounded in my heart, seeing Valerie and him together.

The fact he'd almost run her over weeks back? The fact I'd saved her?

"Your 2014 King and Queen!" Lily shouted as the whistles went on.

I'd never been to prom before, but I knew it was customary for the King and Queen to share the first dance. The thought had my stomach twisting in deep knots.

From the French cuisine, I told myself.

"Hey, we're supposed to dance..." I heard Christian's voice all the way from the stage.

A shrill laugh left Valerie. It almost sounded hysterical. I looked up then, watching her climbing down the stage.

"If you think I'm going to dance with you, Freight, you're crazy. Who knows where your hands have been. And," she stopped. "I don't associate with stoners."

Christian's eyes popped from their sockets. If anyone told the coach his athlete was smoking some weed, he'd be screwed in College. From the corner of my eye, I saw Kelly rush for her jerkoff boyfriend, now stranded on stage.

Valerie knew eyes were on her, she kept walking over. It was stupid to think she was looking my way as she walked. The minute I looked off into space, I was patted on a shoulder.

My eyebrow drew up.

"Dance with me."

One. Two. Three.

"Excuse me?" I asked, voice quiet.

Valerie was standing behind my chair, waiting. Her bronze eyes with specks of brown were warm, delicate. She didn't look like someone who wanted to drag me to the dance floor only to chop off my leg and laugh.

"Dance with me," she paused. "Please."

I was hells bells tempted to laugh. Run. Look for cameras for some dumb reality show.

I didn't do any of that.

I couldn't breathe—it felt awful. Whole my body was flushed to the point of bursting, eyes were on us, I knew—I felt them. But mine were glued on hers.

Legs working on their own, I got up, pushing back the chair. Her date's sitting right here, I thought, this isn't right.

Nothing tonight felt right. Not my life.

Deft fingers wrapped my wrist, toeing me toward the dance floor. Ava said something, we were out of earshot already, though. The whole room was a catacomb of silence, until a song filled it. A slow one.

Oh boy.

"Well, huh... I guess you can all take your dates and dance?" Lily's voice sounded far now.

Valerie's fingers slipped lower, tracing the inside of my hand. I looked at her bowed head, seeing nothing but her hair and tiara. Her thumb found a palm line, she traced it.

Her head lifted. Sense got knocked out of me.

Those bright eyes were big boring into mine, soft, open. It was undecipherable what snapped my heart into motion, so fast, I wondered how it was still working.

"I don't dance," I whispered.

Bottling a giggle, she gripped my hand pulling on it, I took a step closer. Our chests did touch this time.

"Don't worry virgin, follow the expert's lead."

"Is that a joke?" Valerie set my hand on her hip—wow. Okay. "I'm regretting this already." I hissed softly, covering my obvious fast breathing.

Was it possible to faint just for touching a girl?

Valerie wasn't the first girl I'd touched. Heck, I'd kissed a girl before. But this was...

"Put your arm around my waist." I did. Valerie slipped both hands behind my neck. Her heels put her forehead at my chin's level. She was a shorty, I realized. I wasn't very tall, either. "Now we just listen and sway."

We did. At a certain point, I did more than hold her like a statue. My hands moved to seize her waist, gently. I ran them down her hour-glass figure, the leather part of her dress was warm, making my hands burn.

Valerie didn't breathe a word, keeping both arms locked behind my neck, searching all over my face.

I got braver, planting one hand in the small of her back, while the other trailed up. Finding her naked back, I felt skin sizzling against mine. Shortcake tilted her head, brushing it against my shoulder. That made me inhale way deep.

"Why are you doing this?" I croaked into her ear.

We'd gotten so close. How was this even happening right now?

Valerie stole a quick glance at my eyes.

"Because I wanted to," she breathed, pulling her head away. Just a little. "And... I never got to thank you properly. For pulling me out of the way? I could've died."

A part of me broke the ocean's surface. Relief washed over.

"What? Did you think it was pity? I don't do charity work, Finn. I could be a hypocrite and say I do, but I don't." Dumbly, I nodded...

"You called me Finn."

A small smile broke rank on her face.

"That's your name, right?" Valerie's thick lashes lowered, fanning her cheeks.

"Yeah... it's... The only time you called me Finn was after I saved you." Saved sounded too heroic, but in this little bubble of ours, I could barely choose basic words like yes and no.

Surprise flickered over her face. It looked like she might say something, only my fingers had a mind of their own and were busy tracing the outlines of her shoulder blades. She sucked in a breath.

An apology for earlier danced on the tip of my tongue—

Shortcake jolted in my hold. I saw a hand on her bare, slim shoulder.

Sebastian was standing in his matching outfit. He didn't look all too pleased with her.

"Do you think I can dance with my date now?"

I had no idea what these two were, and a sour taste in my mouth told me I didn't want to, because I might not like the answer. I never thought dropping my arms from Valerie Monet could be such a hard task. She made it harder—her hands clinging to my shoulders, her hips pushing on mine.

I swallowed a growing lump.

"Sure, man." I got out.

"Thanks," he replied dryly, grasping her hand, pulling her deeper into the mass of dancing couples.

I was left alone at our table.

Thomas and Ava were dancing—Ava's face buried into his shoulder, I couldn't believe she was still breathing. Trip wasn't any better, nose buried into her hair.

Girls kept giggling and coming to me, but I... I couldn't really look at them. I couldn't get over the idiotic fact that Valerie Monet had been my first slow dance.