The dress hung on the closet door.
My dress.
Freya had practically squealed when the package arrived earlier this morning, dragging me out of bed before I could protest.
Now, I stood in front of it, bare-footed on a Sunday morning, and still groggy, staring as though it might swallow me whole.
The black gown was even more beautiful up close.
"You're going to look like an absolute queen," Freya said from where she sat cross-legged on her bed, chewing on a stick of licorice while scrolling through her phone.
She looked up and grinned. "Are you ready for the ball tomorrow?"
I swallowed. "Yeah," I said automatically. "Totally."
The truth? I hadn't stopped thinking about Friday night.
Halbrook's sharp, cold voice had lodged itself in my head like broken glass. If you mention this to anyone, you'll be expelled.
"You're spacing out again," Freya said, snapping me out of it.
