I'd been right about the homecoming kings and queens having been crowned already. Morgan McDougall stood on the edge of the dance floor holding court with her fawning Valkyrie friends. A glittering tiara topped Morgan's head, and a triumphant smile curved her crimson lips. This was her coming-out party, and she wanted everyone to know it. Morgan had her arm looped through Samson Sorensen's, her body plastered to his side. Samson looked handsome in his tux, although he was holding on to his garish gold crown instead of actually wearing it. He bent down and slobbered a kiss onto Morgan's neck while she talked to her friends.
I couldn't help but wonder what Jasmine would do if she was here right now. If she saw how easily Morgan had stepped into her place as queen of the second-year Mythos students. I imagined that Jasmine would go over, snatch the crystal crown off Morgan's head, and start beating her friend and Samson with it. The Valkyrie had certainly been capable of doing something like that, given all the rage that I'd felt when I'd picked up that photo in her room. The one of Morgan and Samson that Jasmine had ripped up.
My eyes roamed over the rest of the dining hall. Students weren't the only ones here tonight. More than a few professors could be seen in the crowd, including Metis, Coach Ajax, and Nickamedes. The three of them stood off to one side of the hall, drinking punch, talking, and occasionally stepping forward to keep the dry-humping on the dance floor to a minimum. Ajax and Nickamedes both wore tuxes, while Metis looked soft and pretty in a green evening gown.
Finally, I spotted Daphne and Carson deep into a slow dance. Daphne had her head on Carson's shoulder, and the band geek had a goofy, dreamy look on his face. Morgan said something to the two Valkyries standing next to her and pointed at Daphne and Carson. The three of them laughed and snickered, making fun of the new couple. But Daphne and Carson were so into each other that they didn't see or hear the Valkyries. I doubted it would have bothered them anyway. Not tonight.
Since I didn't want to tromp through the crowd to get to Daphne and Carson, I skirted around the edge of the dining hall and headed for the refreshment table, just to have something to do. Just so no one would see that I was a total loser who was here by myself. Coming here had been a mistake. I'd thought it would be fun, but now I wasn't so sure. Because my only, sort-of friend was totally into her date, which meant that I didn't have anyone else to talk to-much less dance with.
So I got in line, piled a plate high with fresh fruit, and dipped everything into the dark chocolate fountain before grabbing a glass of sparkling fake champagne punch. I headed for the tables in the back of the dining hall, but all the seats were occupied by couples. I stood there, feeling stupid and awkward, food in one hand and drink in the other, with nowhere to sit down and eat and absolutely no one to talk to.
I sighed. I didn't know what I'd been thinking, coming here by myself. I was going to take my food back to my room and stuff my face before reading comic books the rest of the night. Which was what I should have done in the first place instead of coming here and trying to fit in, trying to pretend like I actually belonged here.
I turned and walked back around the edge of the dance floor, weaving in and out of the couples who crossed my path. I was about halfway toward the exit when someone stepped in front of me. The guy had his back to me, so he didn't even see me. I had to jump back to keep from slamming into him, and the sharp motion made the punch slosh out of my glass and splatter down the front of my dress, staining it. Great. Just great.
"Hey," I muttered. "Watch where you're going."
The guy must have heard me, because he turned around and glared at me, and I found myself staring up at Logan Quinn.
I hadn't talked to Logan since last night when he'd tried to kiss me and I'd totally freaked out about it. I hadn't been able to get close to him in gym class, but I'd looked for him the rest of the day out on the quad, hoping to apologize again. I hadn't seen him then, but now that I finally had, I couldn't stop staring at him.
Logan looked absolutely gorgeous in his black tuxedo, although he'd already undone his tie, as if it was choking him. The jacket stretched over his shoulders, highlighting just how totally muscled they were. His black hair glistened underneath the silver and golden glows from the twinkling lights, and his eyes glittered like ice in his face. I stood there, breathless.
Logan glared at me another second before doing a visible double take. His eyes slid down the front of my dress, lingering on the punch stains that dotted the long skirt. My cheeks started to burn. Why did I have to run into him now? Why couldn't I have at least seen him before I managed to splash punch all over myself?
"Excuse me," I muttered, and moved past him.
I hurried over to the buffet table and put down my plate and glass, having lost my appetite for, well, everything. I turned around, and there he was again, standing right behind me, still staring at me.
"Gypsy girl?" Logan asked in an uncertain voice, as if he wasn't quite sure whether or not it was me.
"Spartan," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest to try to hide some of the sticky stains on my dress. "Enjoying the dance?"
Logan looked at me another moment, then shrugged. "As well as any other, I suppose. They're all the same-long and boring."
I didn't say anything. I didn't know how to talk to him when he wasn't teasing me-or when he wasn't saving my life. And I certainly didn't know what to do now, when he looked so freaking sexy in that tux.
"Do you want to dance?" Logan asked in a low voice, his eyes gleaming in his face.
My heart leapt up into my throat. I'd never realized until just this second how much I wanted that very thing. How much I wanted to step into his arms, even if it was only for tonight. But I couldn't answer him. I just couldn't make myself say the words.
I didn't have to. Logan put his hand around my waist, careful not to touch the bare skin of my arms, and pulled me out onto the dance floor along with all the other swaying couples. I let him, as if in a trance, mesmerized by the sensation of his hand on my waist. I could feel the heat of his fingers even through the silky fabric of my dress.
"So," Logan said once we stood in the middle of the floor. "How are we going to do this? Because I can't touch your skin or anything, right?"
I just stared at him. If there was anyone I'd want touching me, it would be Logan. But I couldn't risk it. I just ... couldn't. For once, I didn't want to know someone else's secrets. I didn't want to touch Logan and realize that he was really laughing at me deep down inside. That he was thinking about how pathetic I was and how sorry he felt for me. I wanted to pretend like he actually cared about me, even if it was just for this one dance.