Archive of Our Own

Prom sucked.

I sat at a round table with a white linen cloth draped over it, a mini cupcake on a napkin in front of me. I took a drink from the red-colored punch and grimaced; it tasted fishy—not fishy as in someone spiked it, but fishy as in actual water from a fishbowl. Jameson Hawthorne, the entire reason that I was at this godforsaken, school-sanctioned dance, came up to me and dropped into the chair next to me.

I’d known Jameson Hawthorne, and his brothers, for a couple of years now, ever since my mother had died and my care had been placed in the hands of my older half-sister, Libby. I had been surprised when my social worker told me that Libby was in Texas, especially since the last I’d heard she’d still been in Connecticut. But it had been several months since we’d talked, so I packed up my stuff and was placed on an airplane to Texas.

Jameson Hawthorne had been the one who bounded up to me when I stepped off the escalator, grabbing my suitcase out of my hands.

“Um, do I know you?” I’d asked. Libby had hurried up behind him, then, looking harried and a little worn out.

“I’m Jameson,” he’d said.

“Didn’t answer my question.”

Libby had shoo-ed Jameson away then, pointing him towards what I assumed to be her car. She’d turned to me then, looking a little chagrined, and began to explain. She’d gotten a job working as a personal care assistant for the Hawthorne matriarch, a lady who only allowed people to call her Nan, and had moved to Texas, leaving everything else behind in Connecticut, including her abusive ex-boyfriend.

She’d also explained that she’d told her boss, Tobias Hawthorne, the son-in-law of Nan and the grandfather of Jameson, about me and my situation. Apparently, Jameson had been eavesdropping, and when she’d left to come pick me up today, he’d insisted on coming as well. And as Libby had come to learn, it was very hard to say no to a Hawthorne.

“Let’s bounce,” Jameson said to me now. He’d lost his suit jacket, and his white dress shirt’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. I picked up my mini cupcake and licked the icing.

“You’re the one who wanted to come,” I said innocently. Jameson frowned and swiped at my cupcake, knocking it out of my hand and onto the floor.

“Come on!” I complained. I picked the napkin up and handed it to him, glaring. “Clean it up.”

Jameson smirked but did as he was told. He wiped pathetically at the smear of frosting on the floor, crouching. I sighed and shook my head. Poor little rich boy.

He crumpled the napkin in his hand and twisted to face me. “Can we go now?”

I furrowed my brow, motioning for him to sit back in his seat. “What happened? You were so excited to come.”

Jameson shrugged, eyes trained on the tablecloth. He’d dropped the napkin next to my fishy water, and now he poked at it.

“Prom is supposed to be a magical night, right?” He shrugged.

I sat back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest. “You’re not making sense.”

“You know how, when I asked Emily to come with me, she said she already had a date?” Jameson asked.

I faked indignation. “You mean I wasn’t your first choice?”

He gave me an unimpressed look. I rolled my eyes and signaled for him to continue.

“That’s because,” Jameson said, “Grayson is her date.”

My fingers dug into my elbows a little painfully. I followed Jameson’s gaze to the middle of the ballroom. There were lots of couples, and bodies in general, in the way, but a spotlight caught the platinum strands of Grayson’s hair, drawing my attention. He was dressed impeccably in a black tuxedo, hair artfully messy. He was turned so that I couldn’t see much of his face—a sharp edge of a cheekbone—but I had a clear sightline to Emily Laughlin.

Her auburn hair was pulled up in a high ponytail, ends curled. She wore a silvery dress, simple but with a plunging neckline. She was as enigmatic as ever, looking up at Grayson like he was the only thing that mattered. But I knew it was a lie.

Aside from the fact that Jameson had told me all about their escapades of the past several months—sometimes with too much detail—when I’d first come to the Hawthorne House almost two years ago, she’d taken me aside and warned me away from the brothers, particularly the middle two: Grayson and Jameson.

Nash was too old to really be under her spell, and Xander, the youngest and my age, was too oblivious. But I’d known from the moment I’d seen them all together—Grayson and Jameson and Emily—at the little tea party that Tobias Hawthorne had thrown in honor of his mother-in-law that they were heading for a catastrophic ending.

Grayson and Jameson were too competitive, and Emily was too alluring, even at fifteen. She had a presence that made heads turn, that caused people to stop and stare. Rebecca, her sister, also in my grade, was more beautiful, but she was shy. Emily was beautiful in how she presented herself, how she walked through the world. She could force a man to his knees purely through her green-eyed stare.

I’d never stood a chance.

Luckily for me, I hadn’t been interested in fighting over the boys, not in the way that she intended anyway. I had no interest in romance. I was much more concerned about my schooling. Jameson had quickly become my best friend, sharing a bond over our love of mysteries; Xander was my confidante, and I, his; Nash had an, to me, uncomfortable interest in Libby, but he’d won me over eventually; and Grayson was… different. He held me at arms’ length, but sometimes I’d catch him at a strange time and he’d show me the pictures he’d taken of the world or we’d talk about the places we wanted to travel to and the things we wanted to see.

It wasn’t until a few months ago, a little while after Jameson and Emily had started their thing, that I began to notice Grayson in a way that I shouldn’t have.

Because Libby was Nan’s full time caretaker, Tobias Hawthorne had insisted on her staying at Hawthorne House. That insistence had extended to me when I had moved to Texas, no matter how many times Libby offered to find us a different place. We’d been put up in what was unofficially the staff wing, in rooms that faced across from each other in the hallway.

I’d been walking back from the kitchens in the middle of the night, having snuck down for a snack after studying for several hours, when I ran into Grayson—shirtless, with drops of water clinging to his blond hair and sculpted chest. It was dark in the hallway, but his gray eyes glowed as he stared at me.

“Avery? What are you doing up?” he asked.

“Math,” I told him. “And you’re… swimming?” It was one in the morning. That seemed like an awfully strange time to go for a swim.

Grayson shrugged, drawing my attention to his strong shoulders. I briefly wondered what they would feel like under my hands but instantly banished the thought. Where had it even come from? I’d swam with Grayson, and the other Hawthorne brothers, tons of times in the past two years. We’d had chicken fights and contests to see who could make the biggest splash from a cannon ball. I’d never had trouble tearing my eyes away from Grayson before; I’d never had my stomach squirm and my fingers itch to touch him.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Grayson said, snapping me out of my traitorous thoughts. He tilted his head a little as he looked at me. “You have Dr. Lewis, right? She’s difficult.”

I wondered why he was suddenly bringing my geometry teacher into the conversation when I remembered that I’d been working on homework for her class for the past three hours.

“Oh, yeah. It’s mainly the amount of work she assigns, really,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself and looking anywhere but at him.

“Well, you don’t want to burn yourself out. You should go to bed,” Grayson said.

I laughed a little. “I could say the same of you.” I looked up at him, then. He held my gaze for a moment before he turned his head to look at a painting on the wall.

“Can I ask you a question?” Grayson’s voice was quiet, hushed, as if he suddenly realized that we were the only two people still awake in the household. It was magnetic; I couldn’t have said no if I tried.

“Sure.”

“I know your mother died,” Grayson began. “And that’s why Libby took you in. But what about your father?”

I stiffened a little and gripped my arms tighter. “He’s not a good person.”

Grayson’s head whipped towards me, eyes wide and burning. “Did he hurt you?”

“No!” I said, raising a hand to calm him. “No, I’ve never lived with my dad. When my mother died, my caseworker checked in with him, but he didn’t want me. And even if he had, she wouldn’t have let me go with him. He drinks a lot and is in and out of jail. And since I was fourteen, I had a say in who I went to, too. And I never would have willingly gone with him.”

Grayson was silent, eyes roaming over my face. I felt heat begin to feel my cheeks and willed it away.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “That must be terrible.”

“I learned early on that he wasn’t someone that deserved my love,” I said. I paused, hesitant to say what I wanted to, but pushed on anyway. “Do you… Your dad…?”

Skye kept the fathers of her children under lock and key, but I knew that Grayson had his ways. There was a reason that everyone called him the “Heir Apparent.” He had connections, and he knew how to use them. It wasn’t out of the question to think that maybe he’d found out something that his mother would have rather kept buried.

Grayson let out a harsh breath. “No. No, and I don’t really want to know… most of the time. But sometimes, it gets in my head, and I can’t get it out.”

When Grayson spoke, it was always with the self-assured tone that the world would fall into place. But now, for once, he sounded uncertain. And tired.

“So, swimming?” I asked.

He nodded, staring at me a little strangely. “Swimming.”

I swallowed hard. For a moment, we just stood there, eyes locked and gaze unbroken. I felt caught, but not in a bad way. It felt like something had shifted, but I didn’t know what or why.

Finally, Grayson looked away. “Well, you should probably get to bed.”

I looked down at the floor, at my striped socks. I was silently grateful that I hadn’t put on those fluffy penguin slippers that Libby had gotten me for Christmas.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “After I finish three more math problems.”

“You should sleep. I can help you tomorrow morning, before breakfast,” Grayson offered. I blinked. Grayson seemed to be full of surprises tonight.

“Okay,” I said. I’d walked back to my room a little robotically and got a few hours of sleep before waking up at six in the morning. I’d just gotten dressed when there was a knock on my door, Grayson behind it. He’d helped me with my remaining homework, and then we’d gone down to breakfast together. Thea Calligaris, Emily’s best friend, had been at the table, and she’d narrowed her eyes when she saw me.

It made the moment that we’d shared that night feel a little cheap, if it could even be considered a moment. Maybe I’d imagined it all, making it up in my head, and I was just another girl who had fallen prey to Grayson’s magnetism and gray eyes.

“You were right,” Jameson said now, pulling me out of my thoughts. Had he been talking? Had I just completely ignored him, or had he been wrapped up in his thoughts as well?

“I usually am,” I said, “but what specifically now?”

“Prom is stupid, and we shouldn’t have come.” Jameson sounded sullen, like a child who’d been told he couldn’t have candy. A flash of irritation hit me—just because he didn’t get the girl, the whole night was written off?

“Let’s dance,” I said suddenly, sitting up straight.

Jameson looked at me. “What?”

“Just trust me,” I said. Jameson wanted Emily’s attention, and I knew that the one surefire way to do that was for him to look like he’d moved on, especially if that girl was me. It would drive her crazy.

While I may not have liked the thing that Emily and Jameson had going on, I didn’t want Jameson to get his heart broken. And I wanted to piss off Emily Laughlin.

I stood up from my chair and held my hand out to Jameson. “Dance with me?” He hesitated a moment before resolve settled over his face. He laced his fingers with mine and pulled me to the dance floor.

My free hand settled on his shoulder while his slid to my waist. We started on the edge of the dance floor, but somehow, I found that we were slowly moving towards the center, on a collision course with the couple I wanted to avoid. I raised an eyebrow at Jameson, and he stopped, letting us sway a little to the left of center.

“I didn’t mean to make it sound like I wasn’t glad to be here with you,” Jameson said suddenly, quietly.

I shrugged. “Well, it kind of did.”

He winced, and I rolled my eyes.

“I get why you’re upset, but I only came here because you asked me to. You could act like it’s not such a chore,” I told him.

“How about, once prom is over, we go to that greasy diner that you and Libby like in our fancy prom clothes?” Jameson offered.

I laughed, smiling up at him. “That sounds fun. But we have to be careful. This dress was one of Libby’s paychecks.”

She’d been so happy when I’d told her I was going to prom, and she’d insisted on buying me a good dress, one that would help me blend in with the rich. She’d been thinking designer; I’d considered consignment shops. We’d compromised by going to the more upscale mall.

The dress was strapless, a ballgown with a sweetheart neckline. It was a nice, soft pink with a lot of lace and little fabric flowers that swayed in the slightest breeze. It was a little girlier than what I usually would have gone with, but Libby had been ecstatic when she’d seen it. And when I’d put it on, it made me feel special. So I’d let her buy it for me, and then we’d gone to Old Navy to get some ballet flats.

“Hey, guys!” Emily’s voice was silvery, though a little flat, as if her master plan wasn’t working out the way she wanted. I wondered, then, if she had something planned for Jameson tonight after all. My hand tightened on his shoulder.

I looked over my shoulder to see Emily still in Grayson’s arms, smiling brightly. But when her eyes strayed from Jameson over to me, they hardened. I got the message loud and clear, but a part of me couldn’t care.

“Avery, I didn’t realize you were coming to Prom!” she continued. I forced myself to hold her gaze, no matter how curious I was to see if Grayson was wondering the same thing.

“I asked her to come with me,” Jameson said. He didn’t say anything about me being second choice, but Emily obviously knew; her smile turned a little smug.

“Well, I’m glad you found someone to go with you! I know you were so put-out after the girl you asked first said no.” Emily pouted, as if she wasn’t that girl. “Though, I did hope that you’d save me a dance. Will you?”

“We were actually going to leave soon,” I said. I looked back at Jameson to see him staring longingly at Emily. I wanted to smack him. She was clearly involved with Grayson; what did he think that meant?

“But we can stay for one more song,” Jameson said. He let go of me, forcing my hands to fall to my sides. He gave me a semi-apologetic glance, but his gaze zeroed back in on the blonde girl.

“I guess I’ll meet you back at the table,” I said. People were beginning to stare, and my skin began to prickle. I hated being the center of attention, but even more than that, I hated the narrative that would soon be weaved. And I was sure that it wouldn’t look good for me. I turned to go, but a hand on my wrist stopped me.

“Dance with me?” It was Grayson’s voice that whispered over my shoulder and into my ear. I felt a little frozen, but somehow, I managed to turn around to face him. He was close, maybe a foot away. I was eye-level with his throat; I watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. I forced my eyes to his—the gray seemed to glow, like that night in the hallway.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I nodded instead. Sparing a thought for Jameson and Emily, I glanced over Grayson’s shoulder. Jameson had already swept her up into his arms, but I had a direct view of her face. The phrase if looks could kill came to mind.

But then Grayson wrapped his arm around my waist and clasped my hand in his, and my attention was wholly on him. We were in the same position as Jameson and I had been, a casual waltz-like form, but it felt like more. His hand was on the small of my back, palm burning through the filmy fabric of my dress. On the hand that he held, his thumb rubbed gently against my own, almost subconsciously. I managed to bring my hand up to his shoulder, but I clutched it a little more desperately than I would admit.

“You look beautiful,” Grayson said softly.

“Thank you. You look—” I swallowed “—handsome.”

The edge of his mouth ticked upward.

“Watch it, or I’ll downgrade to ‘nice.’”

Grayson said nothing, just held me a little tighter as we swayed to the music. I hoped that the song lasted forever.

“Are you having fun?” he asked after a moment.

I licked my bottom lip, looking around. People were doing that thing where they pretended they weren’t staring at you but really were. Everyone seemed focused in on Grayson and I—or perhaps, Grayson and Emily and Jameson and I. One big mess. Something that I’d swore I wouldn’t get involved in.

And I wasn’t, really. It’s not like I was dating either of the boys. I really only hung out with Jameson, and I wasn’t interested in him. And my feelings for Grayson, they would fade. It was just a crush. I was positive.

I looked back up at him and was caught in his gray stare. “It’s not so bad now.” The words slipped out of my mouth before I could stop them. I stuttered, “Th-the water tasted fishy.”

Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Fishy?”

“Like it came from a fish tank,” I said, willing myself to stop putting my foot in my mouth. What was wrong with me? I’d talked to Grayson since these traitorous feelings had come to light; I’d even seen Grayson in a tuxedo, as the Hawthorne family had gone to some gala a month ago. But I’d never been subjected to his gaze like this, looking like this, with the colored lights glinting off of his hair and his luminescent eyes, wrapped in his embrace.

I stopped myself from shaking my head, as if the physical movement could rid me of my thoughts.

“So,” I said, pulling my eyes from his to stare at his shoulder under my hand. “You and Emily?”

On the small of my back, his hand flexed. “Yes.”

“I didn’t realize.”

“She wanted to keep it quiet, which I don’t blame her for. Being involved with a Hawthorne… it can be overwhelming.”

“Keep it quiet?” I repeated. My hand loosened on his shoulder. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“A few months. Why?” he asked. My mouth dropped open. A few months?

“Jameson—” I snapped my mouth shut as soon as the word escaped. I tried to take a step back, but Grayson pulled me closer.

“What about Jameson?” Grayson asked.

I tried to look anywhere but his face, but eventually, my eyes found his once more. I took in the thin line of his lips, the tenseness in his jaw. I didn’t want to be the one to tell him this, to tell either brother this.

How had she gone on this long? How had she pulled it off when they went to the same school, lived in the same house?

“Avery?” Grayson asked.

He never said my name. He never had to. I always paid attention.

“I—” I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

He let go of me, the cold air taking the place of his arms. Grayson looked over at where Jameson and Emily were still dancing. She was laughing at something he’d said, her head thrown back. There was no denying the soft look on Jameson’s face.

I looked back at Grayson. He stood terribly still, only inches away from me. I watched as his eyes tracked from Emily to Jameson and back to Emily. And I knew that, even if she’d played them, even if she tore out their hearts with her own bare hands, Grayson would give her his. Jameson probably would, too.

I took a step back, then another. Grayson gave no indication that he realized I was moving away from him, and I tried not to let it hurt as much as it wanted to. Emily was Emily; I was me.

No one would ever look at me the way the Hawthorne brothers looked at Emily Laughlin. Especially not Grayson.