There could never be any joy in that prom without her. The prom Chloe and I dreamed of.īut the memories I wanted to make at that prom died with Chloe. Dresses spilling over with skin, matching corsages, awkward gaits due to six-inch heels. Kids grinding against one another on the dance floor to lure the chaperones’ attention away from a punch bowl just waiting to be spiked. Red and white balloons, streamers, a loud, cheesy DJ yelling over the starting chorus of the next song. Images of the conference center downtown spring up in my mind.

“More than sure,” I tell him, giddiness swimming through my veins like a sneaking eel. At the edge of the wet sand, just out of reach of the most ambitious wave, we stop. Grabbing my hand, he pulls me to the water. “Let’s get on with this.” He closes the distance between us, making foot-size potholes with his stride. “I can’t admire you, even from afar?” I can’t quite squeeze enough innocence in there to make it believable, to make it sound like I wasn’t thinking the same thing he was.Ĭlearing his throat, he nods. “Disappointing your grandfather is the last thing I want to do.” “Don’t look at me like that, angelfish,” he says, his voice husky. Galen, barefoot in the sand, wearing an Armani tux. She could still enjoy them while she and Grom come to shore to-“ “She keeps picture frames at her house though. After all, I am eighteen years old, an adult, and can take care of myself. “And what will she do with pictures? There aren’t exactly picture frames in the Royal Caverns.” Mom’s decision to mate with Grom and live as his queen didn’t surprise me. “Your mother will want pictures,” he tells me. I’m just glad to see a smile on his face at all. His crooked smile almost melts me where I stand.

Leaning over, I shake my head like a wet dog, dispelling the magic of hairspray. But she would also want us to stay in our designer clothes. Rachel would want us to enjoy ourselves.” I pull the thousand-or-so bobby pins from my hair and toss them in the sand. When he starts unraveling his tie, I throw out my hand.

“Absolutely.” I unstrap the four-hundred-dollar silver heels and spike them into the sand. “You’re sure you want to do this,” Galen says, eyeing me like I’ve grown a tiara of snakes on my head.

Oathbringer by brandon sanderson