Just Me by L.A. Fiore

watched Bastian, reading his ink. The others had gone into the back to eat dinner, so we had a bit of privacy. I placed my sketch down and walked over to him. His head lifted to me when I stopped just in front of him.
    A smile spread over his face. “Hey, beautiful.”
    I ran a finger over his arm. I watched my movement a moment before I raised my eyes to his. “This represents how you don't want to be put into a mold. The siren represents your parents or anyone in your life trying to make you conform. To be lured in by them and to follow their will and not your own would be death for you—not of the body, but of the soul.”
    He straightened from his position, but his focus never wavered from me. “Go on.”
    “ The Fates. I'm guessing they signify that when you're born, how long you live and your death are certain, but everything in between is unwritten and the providence of free will and not Fate.” I held his intense gaze and asked, “How did I do?”
    “ Like you were right beside me when I had them done. How did you know?”
    “ I know you , so it was easy to figure out.”
    In the next breath, his lips molded to mine in the sweetest of kisses: a kiss that was about more than desire. It was about connecting, like a key sliding into a lock. He held my gaze for the longest time before he said, “I am so fucking addicted to you.” Still reeling from that pronouncement, he went for the jugular. “I'm falling in love with you.”
    There weren't words that could accurately express how I felt hearing that from this boy. I replied with the simple truth. “I've already fallen.”
    The stark honesty of his expression in response would stay with me always.
    ***
    The long-dreaded Saturday night had arrived: the night of Bastian's birthday dinner. I sat at Poppy's dressing table and watched as she attempted to twist my hair into some kind of elegant up-do. Sophia was behind us rummaging through Poppy's closet.
    “ This isn't me,” I said.
    “ You don't know what is ‘you.’ Just let me have my way and if you don't like it, I'll take it down.”
    “ Fine.”
    A half an hour later, when she told me I could look, I was speechless. She had somehow braided part of my hair, then pulled those braids back into a messy knot that she secured at the nape of my neck. It was so utterly elegant and yet so me. I beamed with approval.
    Sophia came to stand next to us, a smile spreading over her face. “You're good, Poppy.”
    “ She is. You are a genius. I will never, ever doubt you again,” I said.
    “ Good. Now let's work on the clothes.”
    Poppy let me borrow one of her cocktail dresses, a simple black crepe fitted sheath with long sheer chiffon sleeves accented at the shoulders with black bead work. The hem fell to mid-thigh. To top off the beautiful ensemble, Poppy's mom let me borrow her Christian Louboutin black platform pumps. I felt like Cinderella on the way to the ball. I could only hope that my evening fared better than her ill-fated one.
    “ You look nervous. Are you nervous?” Sophia asked.
    My laugh sounded strained even to me. “I am. I'm worried about his parents.”
    Poppy's face pinched with temper. “Bastian won't let his parents do anything. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself.”
    Easier said than done. My nerves intensified at the sound of the doorbell but it wasn't thoughts of meeting Bastian's parents causing it now but excitement at the thought of seeing Bastian all dressed up. Poppy and Sophia would not let me wait downstairs and said I needed to make a grand entrance. I wasn't sure what that meant, but I waited until I was given the signal before I made my way down the stairs. I saw him before he could see me and I felt my breath still in my lungs at the sight of him. He stood next to Mr. Wright dressed in a beautiful black suit that was clearly tailored just for him, and a pale green shirt and silk tie. His hair had been pulled back into a ponytail, so nothing hindered the beauty of his face.