I dedicate this chapter to the sweet and talented @GemTheKoala to thank her for the beautiful aesthetics she's made 🤩 (you can find them in the chapter Readers' Arts at the beginning 👀 so tell me what you think there!) Thank you for this and all your support on this story! Love you 😘🌠

'Didn't they tell us don't rush into things?

Didn't you flash your green eyes at me?

Didn't you calm my fears with a Cheshire Cat smile?

Ooh, didn't it all seem new and exciting?

I felt your arms twisting around me

It's all fun and games 'til somebody loses their mind'

"And what do we do at a prom?" Blade asked as he pushed the swing door leading to the ballroom, keeping it open for me, and I turned to look at him.

The question sounded genuine; well, of course, it was, as he'd never gone to one, and it was so far from the weed nights at the bar. I wasn't even sure how to describe it as he blinked at me.

"Um... it's like sneaking in a fancy party." I grinned at the memory, and I knew he would understand. "You eat, watch people around, and... dance."

It seemed like a pretty accurate comparison as I stepped into the wide room, and even if there was no starry ceiling or expansive golden sculptures, the decoration team had done a pretty good job with all the balloons in the colors of our school on the ceiling, around the large pillars, and surrounding the small stage, and the red and white ribbons and flowers at every corner. There was even a band playing and a long buffet on the left side, and of course, the dancefloor already filling with couples dressed elegantly in the middle.

There was just one important difference I'd forgotten. Here, we weren't Lucy Lucas and Ford Wels, and everyone knew us, well, me. But still, many eyes turned to us both, wide eyes, followed by judging stares, disapproving pouts, and even some hushed whispers I caught in the silence between two songs.

I would have wished that it was because of a huge stain on my dress, but no, it wasn't me they were judging.

Blade and his dark aura were catching all the lights like I'd expected, and also the eyes, first of the chaperons that didn't even reply to my polite greetings and checked our invitations twice, then of the students standing bored near the entrance, and then progressively more and more people as we advanced into the large room, and I guessed Spencer was in all those eyes, even if I didn't look farther when Blade froze in his steps.

For once, all this attention on me didn't make the blood rush to my cheeks; it raced the opposite way, cascading down and dragging my smile, my stomach, and my heart as I turned to the look of horror on his sharp features.

I'd just wanted to spend a beautiful night, but it seemed impossible when there were people around, and coming here didn't appear like a great idea anymore. I had never wanted for some of his first steps into my world to feel like some judgment walk, and finally, it was my gaze that fell down as I couldn't bring myself to look into his eyes and watch them freezing too.

"There's no booze?!"

My head snapped up, and I could feel all my insides that had crushed down arising with a giggle as I followed his wide gaze. He wasn't looking at all the people judging him; he was gaping at the 'no alcohol' sign above the buffet.

Sometimes, I wondered how he could be so unaffected by everything – well, everything except 'booze' apparently – but that was what I liked about him, how it felt like nothing could reach him, and hence, reach us when we were together.

"No, you know we're underage. You chose your illegal item... Should've brought a bottle instead of a gun." I shrugged, his confidence and devious smile rubbing off on me as we started walking again, and he still didn't mind the people around.

He was used to the attention, and he played with it, in fact. People looked at him like he was a criminal; he cocked an eyebrow and stabbed them with his killer gaze until they averted their eyes, and I decided to do the same, grabbing his tattooed hand and bringing it around my shoulder.

It was a beautiful night, and I wouldn't let others spoil it – I was good enough at messing myself.

Besides, the good thing about people judging and avoiding us was that it left us more room at the buffet.

"Which delicacy do you want, dear?" I found back the same bad accent as on our first encounter as we stopped in front of the long table.

"Mhm... the cherry pie looks tempting." He pointed to the red pies, though his voracious Cheshire cat's grin wasn't directed towards the pastries, and I could feel my cheeks turning a deeper red shade than the cherry on top of the tartlet he took as he slowly dipped a long finger in the middle of the shiny frosting.

Indeed, it looked mouth-watering, but my lips were dry. It was the downside about being alone in a corner with him; I had his innuendos and bad intentions all for myself, and no one to save me from becoming redder than the cherry pies.

"Dorothy! I was looking for you."

Actually, I'd talked too soon, as someone seemed brave – or crazy – enough to interrupt us when Blade was advancing his finger to me.

"We were waiting for you to fill the dance cards. I've already saved my first and last dance with Gordon, but I wanted a few more, and I didn't kno–" Oblivious, that was what Rachel had been as she'd walked to us. She'd probably been too lost in her dance preoccupations, yet when she lifted her gaze from the paper in her hands, she stopped dead in her tracks and words to take in the killer in front of her.

She wasn't one to judge people, but she was already scared to talk in general, and the red frosting on Blade's fingers and his eyes widening at the words 'dance cards' weren't helping to make her at ease.

"Oh, um, Rachel, this is Blade, you've already heard about him." I smiled, trying to reassure my paralyzed friend, but the only movement it earned me was in Blade's eyebrow with a question I knew I wouldn't escape. "Blade, this is my friend Rachel. She's the one who helped me with my evil genius plan for tonight."

I found myself holding my breath as soon as I finished these introductions, surely the ones that would be the easiest tonight, yet also the most meaningful. I'd grown closer to Rachel in the last few weeks, and of course, closer to Blade too. She was the only one who really knew how important he was to me and who had supported me, so I hoped they would get along, or at least, that he wouldn't terrify her.

"I don't know if I should thank you or not 'cause I just found out there's no booze, and I have to dance on top of that?"

He was trying. It may not have looked like it, but he wasn't used to 'friendly' interactions. So watching him extending his right hand – the clean one with no bandage, nor tattoo – was enough to fill my chest, if not with oxygen, with warmth.

"Don't decide too soon. The night is just starting..." I replied for my friend who was glancing at me with lost puppy eyes like asking 'should I say you're welcome or sorry?', and probably regretting to have accepted the plan.

I hadn't included that part in my idea to 'pretend that we were going with friends to prom and that we invited each other's for a pajama party to be able to have the date of our choice without our parents knowing and no curfew to enjoy the night'.

However, she still shook his hand, and she finally relaxed once Blade's piercing gaze was back on me and my popping freckles. I would have said it went well, as she even cut him off before he could open his impish smile and tease me with one of his bad intentions.

"So... how do you do for the dances card?"

His grin fell down as I focused on the paper Rachel was handing me, though I still caught his dimple hovering over as he took a bite of his tartlet, letting me know he would save his sly remark for later.

It was hard to concentrate on the many lines of the cards that way, especially as I could feel his glances above my shoulder at the paper that was surely a mystery for him. Prom was already far from his world, so I couldn't imagine the list to assign the partners for each dance that my school was probably one of the last conservative institutions to perpetuate.

"I already put your first and last one with Blade, but er... you can add more... I let you see for yourself..." Rachel pulled my attention back to her as she pushed her glasses back up on her nose, and as she avoided my eyes, it was easy to guess she wasn't telling me everything.

She probably didn't know how to formulate that no one would want to swap with Blade and me, although it wasn't a surprise for me, and even less a problem. I didn't care, and I was about to reassure her when I followed her gaze on the dance card with my name, and it was my turn to lose my words.

It wasn't empty. There was Blade's name for the first and last dance, of course, but in the middle, there was another one, and it couldn't be mistaken as I recognized the handwriting instantly.

'Spencer?' 

He wasn't giving up. Although there was a question mark, it felt like a statement on that single line, a statement written clear enough to read, even from over my shoulders, and I could feel Blade's gaze piercing through the paper and my shaky hand, along with Rachel's sorry eyes, and even Spencer's expectant ones from somewhere in the room. All together, it was a lot on my shriveling chest, and as if the atmosphere wasn't heavy enough, someone decided to join just at this instant.

"Here's your orange juice."

Two people approaching the rare attractions of the night, it seemed a lot, though Gordon wasn't here by obliviousness; he was here because he was crazy, crazy about Rachel, and he wouldn't leave her side.

As he looked warily at Blade, I knew I would have another introduction to do, even if I already had no breath left. 

"Gordon, this is Blade, my... date. Blade, this is Gordon, Rachel's date." I forced a small smile, but even if Blade took the hand Gordon was extending, this time, the atmosphere didn't lighten. It grew heavier with the weight of one more gaze: Gordon's disapproving one passing from Blade to me.

Contrary to most people in this room, he wasn't judging Blade on his appearance though. His frown had only appeared at the word 'date', and he was disliking him for standing close to me, where he believed his teammate should have been.

"Should I thank you too?" Blade slowly cocked an eyebrow, the shift in his stance happening at the same time until he was wearing his famous unaffected smirk, and with it, everything tightened: Gordon's handshake, my ribcage, and the tension in the air.

The night had just started, and if it continued like that, the explosion would be sooner than the firework planned at the end.

Glancing to my right, I could see Rachel was thinking the same, although it was clear she was too crippled to help. I had to do something, and as my gaze traveled from the paper card in my hands to the figure in a white jacket walking in our direction, my heart was pounding like the countdown to this explosion. 

There was only one radical option.

"Let's go dance!" I pulled Blade away from their handshake or arm wrestling and used his surprise to drag him to the dancefloor, while I called Rachel over my shoulder. "Sorry, but don't count on us for the cards!"

I didn't even have to think. I was following my instincts; protective, survival, or just desire, I wasn't sure, but there were at least one or two weights taken off my chest, even if instead, something was tugging on my arm.

"You owe me a dance, Ford Wels." I turned to Blade as we reached the dancefloor, and he stopped us before we could put one foot on the wooden floor.

"Okay, only for my shooting star." His lopsided smile stretched until it illuminated his eyes, his whole features relaxing just for me, his shooting star, and as I peered up at his tall and imposing figure, we were taken back to that fancy party.

Of course, I could still feel some eyes on us, but they weighted less and less on my chest, and finally, I was light as a feather as his arms held me.

"Like that?" he asked as he replaced his hands exactly where I'd put them one month before, as if they'd never left, as if he'd memorized exactly the position, and my right hand naturally found its way to the back of his neck.

"Yes, and now... we swirl." This time, I didn't wait, I didn't question, and I didn't risk someone interrupting us as I led our first turn, and quickly, he got the hang of it, taking over.

It was still messy. He stomped on my toes a few times, and we almost bumped into a pillar on the side – not into other couples as they still avoided us – but inside my chest, it felt like floating.

When the song ended, and he made me spin under his lifted arm, I didn't want to come down, so I pulled him closer, wrapping both of my arms around his neck.

"Thank you." It echoed like a breath in the second of silence of the band, but I was sure he'd heard it as he cocked an eyebrow, and I could catch so many bad intentions ready to light up in the crystalline expanse. "For tonight... for being here... I know it's not your thing, but... it means a lot, so thank you." 

I didn't know what else to say, yet I didn't have to; I just held his penetrating gaze and let him see everything from the awe I was still feeling every time I glimpsed my corsage to the fact that I couldn't imagine myself here without him even if the night was nothing like I'd ever expected, passing by how sorry I was for the people around, and he replied with a simple shrug.

"It's nothing. You make it worth it, even this penguin suit."

I shook my head at his 'nothing'.

"This 'penguin' suit fits you really well, I mean, you look handsome in it."

Was I catching my slip or getting deeper into dangerous waters?

From the twinkle lighting up in his eyes and making him look like a Cheshire cat who'd just caught the mouse to play with, I deduced I really should have been more careful about the words and compliments I chose.

"You think I look handsome?" His tongue even slipped out to wet that unrestrained smile. "Should've told me sooner."

"I must have forgotten." I shrugged coyly, the movement making me hyper-aware of every part of his handsome body against mine from his hands that had inched lower down my back to our chests brushing, and his breaths tickling my lips as he leaned closer.

"But you didn't forget to praise my talented hands?"

He would never let me live down to this.

"That's different! It was about your art and work. You already know you're handsome," I pointed out, omitting the fact that I didn't need to feed his ego and that mischievous grin, nor the burn on my cheeks that must have been a nice shade of cherry, contrasting with my dress, and before I could hide them, his fingers reached under my chin.

"Yeah, but I like the sound of it through these sweet lips." His thumb grazed softly the swell of my lower lip, the faint movement making my head spin more than our previous dance.

Were we even still dancing? My heart was taking off faster than in a jive, and my skin was too warm, yet our feet were anchored on the floorboard, and the music was fading under those raspy words.

I caught some movements around us, probably couples switching partners for another song. But all I was seeing were the darkening shades dancing in his eyes as my lips parted.

"And what else do you like through these lips?" Here, I was fully aware of my words, their hoarseness, and mostly, the bad intentions they could stir up through his devious lips.

I liked them and the dimple slowly coming with them, and I surprised both of us as I caught the bad intentions with my sweet lips. I wasn't even sure if it was a surge of cowardize, shutting him up by pulling him closer, or if it was boldness as I stood on my tiptoes to meet that tempting smile, but it was instinctive.

His thumb was still stuck in between our lips before he quickly recovered from the shock and firmly grasped my chin to take control of the kiss.

He still delivered his bad intentions that way, making it more abrupt for my banging heart as he exposed them one by one, slowly, with languorous caresses like he would have taken his time to tease me with his dimples, and I couldn't miss one because he kept me close with his hands. He didn't even have to use his tongue; it was just his lips, soft and sensual, savoring my sweet ones, and it was still so sinful.

When he pulled away, my cheeks were burning more than if he'd pronounced all his baddest intentions. Well, he'd let me feel them, and the blood boiling in my veins wasn't only rushing up my face.

"Yeah, I like that," he murmured above my mouth, those mischievous lips, now smeared in my cherry lipstick, still not running out of bad intentions, and as it was clear I wouldn't cool down, I just giggled.

However, I hadn't expected he would make me melt softly as he smiled, a simple and pure smile like the intention appeared in his next words.

"No, it's that sound I prefer."

It was a good thing because he heard that sound a lot as the night continued, whether it was during a few more dances – if they could be called like that – at our stops by the buffet, or when I dragged him to the photographer booth.

Every time, my laugh was louder; every time I was lighter.

Some eyes remained on us, but they couldn't get to us. The world didn't accept us; well, we escaped into our own world, our own galaxy.

"Say blue moon!" I laughed, still high and breathless, trying to bring back the same boyish grin I'd pulled on his devious lips during that song for the flash of the camera.

Yes, we'd danced on that song again tonight, and I hadn't even tried to ask how he'd convinced the band to play it.

"Say Shooting star!" he replied, drawing my attention back to him, and before I could complain that he wasn't looking at the camera, he crashed his lips on mine.

The flash happened at the instant our smiles met, unless it was just all the sparks always lighting up with the touch of our lips? Anyway, I knew I would never forget this moment and the shine I saw in his clear eyes.

"Folks, it's the second to last song! Don't stay on the sidelines, it's your last chance to invite the girl of your dreams!" A voice announced from the ballroom, probably the singer through his mic as the echo reached even this side room, and it was loud enough to pull me out of my daze.

"Already?! I have to go to the bathroom!" I exclaimed, making Blade's eyes grow wider as I tried to explain, "If we don't wanna miss the last dance and the firework."

Boys couldn't understand that in that kind of dress, three minutes amounted to three seconds in the restroom.

"I'll be quick." I rushed after thanking the photographer, who was struggling to hold his laugh as he probably wondered what kind of mess I was.

I was a shooting star; at least, I ran to the bathroom like one.

As strange as it was, I really wanted to share this last dance with Blade, even if we hadn't followed the dance cards tradition, and we had shared a few dances already. This one was special, and maybe I just needed an excuse to float one more time in his arms; well, float higher because I was still over the moon, alone in the girl bathroom.

My smile was still as large in the mirrors above the sinks as it had probably been on those pictures, and my legs were still as light as during our first dance, even after hours of wearing those heels; actually, my feet were itchy at the thought of the many hours we still had ahead. As for my heart, it seemed to have settled in that erratic rhythm between leaping with everything that had happened tonight and quickening with all the possibilities of what could come.

I was giddy, ecstatic, restless, and crazy, a little bit of everything, yet none of these exactly. I couldn't place this sensation, but it had started the moment Blade had wrapped his arms around me for that first dance – maybe even one month ago when we'd never got to swirl – and it kept intensifying. So if we shared that last dance, I would maybe put a name on it, other than being a shooting star.

I was ready to find out as I checked quickly my hair in the mirror, and miraculously the hairstyle Rachel had made me – a 'Brigitte Bardot bombshell updo' if I remembered well – wasn't messed yet. I definitely would have to thank her tomorrow because for the moment, I didn't even have the time to fix my lipstick as the faint echo of basses turned to silence.

Yet before the clicks of my heels on the tiles could replace it, I was stopped by someone entering the bathroom and standing in my way to the door.

"Diane." I smiled, mostly because my grin hadn't come down, and the difference with her fake smile had never hit me more than in that instant, under the dimmed lighting of the elegant bathroom.

"Dodo, your dress is exquisite." She looked up and down my dress, and I rushed to take the compliment before she could join a criticism that the twitch of her smile announced.

"Thank you, you t–"

"It's a shame you won't win the crown like Daisy."

That, I hadn't seen it coming, nor her arm leaning against the doorframe and blocking me the way completely. What was it that I always ended up trapped?

"That must be such a disappointment for your parents. All those efforts they've made... going to trash."

I swallowed the weight that fell down on my stomach with her words. Yet what she didn't know was that it wasn't enough to make me come down from how high I was, not even my smile, and I found trash cans particularly romantic.

"That's a good thing life isn't only about winning." My gaze flickered to my wrist as I considered what I'd already gained; it was so much more precious for me. When had I ever dreamed of a tiara?

I wasn't losing anything but time here, and as Diane didn't move her haughty gaze and stance, I added,

"But you know it since you didn't score the boy you wanted tonight." Here, the corners of my lips lifted even higher, twisting just a little bit on one side.

I may have floated in another world tonight, but I'd still noticed that she had come with Bradley, and she hadn't shared one dance with Spencer.

It still wasn't about winning, but I needed to put off that victorious glint in her eyes and show her that she wouldn't bring me down again. I wasn't playing her power game anymore; it was for myself, and I was ready to...

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" 

Although it sounded like a devil's whisper on my shoulder to tear that fake smile off her pulpy pink lips, I felt no violent urge, and I quickly realized the shouts were coming from people in another room.

My smile crashed down instantly, followed by my heart disappearing in the pit of my stomach, as the last time I'd heard these kinds of shouts was too fresh and sharp in my memory.

It couldn't be Blade. It wasn't possible. Rye wasn't here, and he had no one to fight. Yet I still found myself shoving Diane and her sardonic smile out of the way and running through the hallway with too many possible scenarios on my tail.

I didn't even try to stop by the photographer booth, where I'd left Blade. The shouts, then, the gasps, and my instincts were leading me to the ballroom, and those never misled.

I froze when I passed the door.

It was the most probable scenario, or at least, the first one that had crossed my mind, but my heart still stopped at the sight.

Blade was in the center of all the attention, once again, and this time, he was facing Spencer.

Here we are, you've been waiting for this moment where Blade and Spencer meet 'officially', and it's coming... next week 😏🙈 

I know it's another cliffhanger, but better be ready because there will be a few coming for this part of the story 🤫🤭 and I announce it: next Tuesday: two chapters are coming (I'm not totally evil 😘)

In the meantime, let me know all your suppositions about what will happen between Spencer and Blade 👀

And also what do you think about this prom so far? Aren't Dorothy and Blade too cute and crazy in their wonderland? 🤩 If you think so, don't forget to vote ⭐ and comment!

I love you my little shooting stars 🌠😘💕