"The dance is in a week and a half," I said to Lana, "which doesn't give us a lot of time."

We were in her hotel room, drinking a bottle of complementary champagne. The hotel employee who had dropped it off looked very confused when he realized it was going to two obviously underage girls, but he hadn't questioned it. Clearly he realized that Lana—whoever she was—wasn't someone to be questioned.

I had only ever tried beer before, and the experience hadn't been that enjoyable, so I had thought that I'd also find champagne repulsive. However, I was pleasantly surprised. It was sharp, but had a sweetness that I liked, and the bubbles danced on my tongue like Pop Rocks. Unfortunately, this was Veuve Cliquot—an expensive brand, Lana told me—so I doubted I'd have champagne this nice for quite some time. So I was trying to enjoy it.

After we had made our deal, I had spent the rest of the afternoon by myself brainstorming a plan. And now, after dinner, I had run over to the Marriott hotel to discuss the details I had scribbled into my notebook. Lana was sitting on the bed cross-legged, listening to my impromptu presentation as she sipped from a tall-stemmed glass.

"First things first," I said, pacing across the beige carpet, "we need to figure out exactly how we want to reach our end goal."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, one option is to find a way to have Billy ask you to the dance yourself.  Of course, that means we have to get him to like you and hope he works up the courage to ask you to the dance in time. The second option is for you to ask him yourself—but you can't ask him too soon, because that might freak him out." I took a breath. I honestly didn't know what I was talking about, but it had all made sense in my head. Now that I was saying it out loud, I couldn't help but wonder if Lana thought I was a blubbering idiot. "The third option is to go to the dance by ourselves and hope we can get something to happen there."

"Let's aim for the first two," Lana said, refilling her glass. "Better not to leave it to chance at the last second."

"Okay, well then we really need to get a move on. It's Wednesday and the dance is next Friday. So we only have nine days to work our magic." I paused. "Speaking of magic... what's the rule for you using it with this deal?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I know you're not supposed to use your magic unless it's to help other people. But you've used it a few times already for other purposes—like to show me visions and to make money appear out of thin air."

"Ahh," Lana said with a nod. "You're right. When I first left Heaven, my powers were completely bound. Couldn't do a single thing unless I was helping a human. But over time, since I've been so good," she batted her eyes at me, "things have loosened up a little. Technically I'm not supposed to use my powers down here unless it's to help someone. But usually there's a little wiggle room. And I know when something I'm doing is toeing the line." She looked at me. "So what do you want to use my power for?" 

"It has to do with my strategy for the week. We need you to spend as much time with Billy as possible, so that he gets to know you... but not too much that he finds you annoying or creepy."

She dropped her jaw. "You think I'm annoying?"

"You relentlessly stalked me for several days," I said in my defense.

"Okay, point taken," she said. "But creepy?"

"You're Queen of the Underworld! You hang out with dead people all day."

"But no one on Earth knows that except for you!" Lana said. "To Billy, I'll just be Lana Gibbons, the random girl in his US Gov class who is a completely average boring powerless human."

"I'm sorry, Lana," I apologized, realizing I had offended her. "I'm just saying that we have to play our cards right. Billy isn't stupid. He's a nice, genuine guy, but not an idiot. He'll run if something seems off. So you need to be the real you—or at least as close to the real you as possible, since you're the Devil and that might be a deal breaker for him."

She sighed dramatically. "Who knew that being a smoking hot fallen angel would be such a turn off?"

"Anyway," I interrupted, "back to my plan. First, we're going to try to hang out with Sam as much as possible this week. She's Billy's sister, so more time with Sam equals more time with Billy."

"Sounds reasonable."

"The second thing we're going to do is go to one of the lacrosse scrimmage matches this weekend, since Billy plays on the team. And then after the game... there's usually a party."

Lana's eyes lit up. "Oooh a party. That sounds juicy. Is it a good vibe?"

"I've actually never been," I admitted. "Usually it's at Alex Mason's house. But Taylor's been a few times and she says it's fun. She's actually been hounding me to go for a while."

"Good! I'm liking it. But so far nothing you've mentioned seems like it needs me to use my power?"

"So I don't know how much you actually pay attention in class, but we have a US Gov project due the week after Halloween. We need to make sure that you guys are in the same group... which is where your magic comes in. Ms. Morgan assigns groups randomly so you need to put us all together. Do you think that will be okay?"

She batted my concern away with a flick of her wrist. "Oh, that's easy. And it definitely falls into the 'helping a human' category, so it's completely fine." She started gesturing with her hand. "Putting us in the same group means that I'm getting closer to Billy, which means that I have a better chance of him asking me to the dance, which means you're closer to getting your reward. So technically, doing this helps you." She leaned back on the bed and grinned. "Gotta love loopholes."

"Okay, good," I said, feeling relieved. "So," I said, setting down my notebook, "what do you think of the plan?"

Lana reclined on her side, propping her head up with her elbow. "I like it. It seems like a challenge, but I'm up for that." She smiled. "You know this is kind of fun. I like this deal. It's refreshing."

"You sure that's not just the champagne talking?" I said, picking my glass off the dresser and joining her on the comforter.

Her eyes lit up as she laughed. "It might be contributing. But really, I'm happy. And I'm hopeful." She held up her glass to make a toast. "To this deal: something different, something challenging, something fun."

"Cheers!" I said, tapping my glass to hers so that a light ting rang out through the room. "Now let's make Billy fall in love with you." And together we drained our glasses.

I stayed over at Lana's that night, sharing her giant king-sized bed.

She slept like any normal human would, her dark hair splayed over her face, her breath rising and falling with each inhale.

She looked so real—so human—that it was at times hard to believe she was an all-powerful demon, an immortal entity who had defied God and had been brutally punished for her actions, cursed to a life of loneliness in a land of darkness and despair. But right now, she didn't look like the Devil; she looked like Lana.

I wondered how it worked for her, to "become human" as she had said it. Was she truly mortal right now? If a psychopath broke into this hotel room and shot her, would her body stumble forward like a zombie, the bullet holes in her chest leaking bright red blood as she staggered around unharmed? Or would she die like any other human? And if she did die, would it really matter? The Underworld was her home. Maybe dying was just like buying an express ticket for a train, a fast track home that was as mundane to her as traveling by bus?

I also wondered if she could read minds. Because I had had quite a lot of strange thoughts about her over the past few days.

When we woke up for class, I watched her get ready with an added pep to her step. She dug through a stack of clothes she had gotten from God-knows-where with glee, and even pulled out a curling iron to style her hair. Her excitement was tangible; she had a goal to achieve, a new purpose.

And I had a purpose too. I only hoped I wouldn't let Lana down.

The thought made me pause. I was worried about disappointing the Devil. Why?

But I couldn't form an answer, so I just pushed the thought out of my mind and finished getting ready.

We took the bus to school, and when we finally walked through the doors into homeroom, Lana stopped mid-stride as if suddenly paralyzed. I followed her gaze and saw that she was openly staring at Billy, who was sitting in his seat in the front row and laughing with his best friend Alex Mason.

On a scale from 1 to 10, Billy Stevens was a solid 8. He wasn't drop-dead gorgeous like Schuyler Mane who'd been modeling since he was three and worked out with a personal trainer every morning at 6am. But there was something about Billy that gave him an extra edge over some of the hottest guys in school. I think it was his smile—his face absolutely transformed when he grinned. And it wasn't just his looks that made him attractive. No matter who you were, Billy would always take the time to listen to what you said. It made you feel valued. In a place as fast-paced and as superficial as high school, it was nice to actually be heard by someone.

He played a varsity sport. He was attractive. He could easily have been standoffish, oafish, rude, and immature. But he was none of those things. He was a nice guy.

A nice guy who had caught the eye of the Devil.

I had to grab Lana's hand and guide her to her seat to stop her from drawing attention to herself. "Keep it in your pants," I whispered as we sat down.

Taylor, who had been eyeing this all from her desk, raised an eyebrow quizzically. "What was that all about?" she asked. Then, smiling broadly, pulled a small plastic container out of her bag and passed it to me. "Cupcake, by the way," she said by way of explanation. "You were too kind to me the other day. You deserve something sweeter than a morning glory muffin."

"Ugh, you're too good to me," I said. Then, realizing that she was still looking between me and Billy with a funny look on her face, I pulled out my phone and sent her a text.

Can't talk about this out loud, I typed, because Billy's here.

Taylor texted back immediately. Yeah, I saw you oogling him. Since when did you start crushing on Billy Stevens??

My eyes widened and I shook my head. Noooo! Lana likes him. She wants my help setting her up. She wants to go to the Halloween dance with him.

The incredulous look on Taylor's face said it all. She asked YOU?

I nodded. Not quite sure why she chose me of all people, but I said I'd try.

Wait... Taylor looked up from her phone to send me a mischievous smile. This sounds fun. Can I help?

I felt a rush of relief. After a few days of her being MIA in the art studio, it was nice to have my best friend back. Yes please! Actually, I was going to ask you for some help because I want her to spend as much time around Billy as possible in the next few days... so can you help schedule a hang-out with Sam? Maybe we can go to her house, watch a scary movie... try to entice Billy into the living room and plant him on the couch next to Lana?

Yesssss, Taylor typed with a grin. Devious. I can do that.

You are the best!

Her response, accompanied by the winking emoji, was simply: I know.

Ms. Morgan walked in immediately afterwards, so we had to put our phones away. "Good morning guys," she said, waving a piece of paper in the air as we all quieted down. "We're going to spend some time working on those group projects today. So first things first, I came up with your groups."

She looked down at her paper and cleared her throat. "Group number one, working on the topic of 'health care,' will be Lana Gibbons, Jessa Brown, Billy Stevens, and Peter Thatcher."

Lana looked over and winked at me as our names were called out.

She had initially been confused why I had asked her to include Peter Thatcher in our group. The truth was, I was worried that if it was just the three of us,  I'd be stuck as a third wheel... and a possible out for Billy if Lana freaked him out too much. So a fourth person was necessary. And as much as I would have loved to work with Taylor, I didn't think she'd be a great fit for this part of the operation: I didn't want Billy to feel like he was surrounded by girls.

So I had chosen Peter. Peter was a smart kid who worked hard and knew a lot. However, he definitely had some sort of anxiety disorder. In freshman year, we had been paired up for a school assignment. Instead of coming to my place, he had insisted that he do most of the work at home, and when presentation day rolled around, I was the one standing in front of the class while he threw up in the nurse's office.

All that said, he was a genuinely nice kid, and I hadn't wanted to work with any douchebags.

After Ms. Morgan had read off the full list, we all broke off into our groups. Lana and I pushed some desks together as Billy and Peter wandered over.

"Well," Billy said with a grin as he grabbed a seat, "I think we got the best group. By far." As he glanced at Lana, I saw a ripple of confusion cross his face. But a moment later, the expression was gone, replaced by that smile of his.

Lana had warned me about that. Apparently the magic that made everyone think that Lana had always been one of our classmates was pretty complex. She had described it like a tangle of threads linking each of us to each other, full of false memories. We had decided that she needed to undo most of the magic surrounding Billy—not enough that Lana would seem like a stranger, but enough to make the deal as ethical as possible. Any false memories that might alter his perception of Lana—whether positively or negatively—could jeopardize the whole operation and render the deal null and void.

Peter, meanwhile, looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here—but that wasn't anything new. He pressed his glasses up on his nose and fidgeted with his fingers. "I can work on this at home. Send you guys email updates and stuff."

"I think we should all be together for at least one meeting outside of school," I said, trying to give Peter a reassuring smile. "Even if it's super quick. Just to make sure we're all on the same page."

Peter looked pained, but nodded his head jerkily, much too shy to argue with me.

I looked at Lana, waiting for her to speak. We had practiced these lines last night between sips of champagne, rehearsing our little play.

She picked at a cuticle, pink flushing up on her cheeks. It was strange to see her so nervous. "I think we should meet up soon. To get a framework in place. Like tomorrow." Suddenly she looked up and stared at Billy intently.

Her gaze was absolutely cringe-worthy, but thankfully Billy didn't seem put off by it. "Okay. I can do that. Wanna come to my place? Right after school tomorrow? As long as this meeting doesn't take more than an hour, it should be okay. I can give you guys a ride."

"Great," Lana said, smiling broadly.

Peter opened his mouth, as if to say something, but no words came out and he just looked down at his desk. For a moment, I wondered if including him in this group had been a mistake.

Billy nodded his head, blond curls bobbing. "Cool," he said, and then fished into his backpack. "So if we're going to meet tomorrow, do you guys mind if I use this time to finish my math homework? We had a late lacrosse practice last night."

"Uh," Lana said, looking thrown off. "Oh... sure."

"Awesome." Billy glanced around, making sure Ms. Morgan wasn't watching, and bent over the page, jotting down numbers.

Lana sent me a concerned look—things clearly hadn't gone the way she had expected them to—but I squeezed her arm in reassurance. Human relationships were complex; she couldn't expect to win him over with a single smile.

This is just step 1, I thought. Patience. We'll get him. Oh, we'll get him.

  - - -   

First of all, I'm in love with the champagne gif I found that's on top of this chapter <3 Gah, I love champagne!

I will admit, this is my least fav chapter in the book--but I promise, it gets more exciting after this ;)

Thanks for all the love and I'd love to hear your thoughts below! <3Bdicocco