The rest of the night passes in a blur of perfect teeth and multicoloured dresses. I complete my duties robotically, just trying not to drop that blasted tray. Gradually, the music ends and the guests disperse. I watch Alice and Willow walk up the stairs together, his hand resting on the small of her back, and I feel the pressure of a thousand tears building behind my eyelids. He will never kiss me now, and I may never go home.
I know it’s pathetic, desperate even, but I hang back just like in canon, sweeping the floor. The rhythmic action soothes my mind, the swish of the broom drowning out the words in my head: Violet the Virgin.
I sweep and sweep until the first signs of dawn push through the windows. I’ve let everyone down – Nate, Katie, even Alice, though I think she may deserve it. Finally, I let the tears flow. They drop from my chin and splat on the floor, transforming to smears beneath the bristles of my broom. The treachery burns deep in my chest – how could Alice sabotage our only hope of going home? I know she’s always had this bunny boiler, fangirl crush on Willow, and I know she loves being a Gem, but this is different, this is our lives. Now I have to return to the Imp-hut and look Nate in the eyes as I tell him what’s happened. And then an even more terrifying thought rams its way into the forefront of my brain . . . Thorn will kill Katie.
Katie. I wish she was here instead of Alice. She would never sleaze all over Willow. She would never put the Gems on a pedestal – she would call them a bunch of douchenoggins and follow it up with a quote from Shakespeare. I really miss her.
I pull my sleeve across my face and step into the cool of the dawn. The faint outline of last night’s stars still blink in the sky, speaking of what could have been. Slowly, I drag my boots over the lawn, hoping that if I walk really slowly, I may never reach the hut.
‘Rose.’ The voice moves through the air like a song.
I turn and see Willow striding up the hill towards me. He’s lost the bow tie, and sweat glistens on that triangle of honey-coloured skin. He looks tired, but he smiles and lifts his hands. ‘I promised you that last dance.’
It feels like my feet have sprouted claws and I’m unable to move, except for the huge smile reaching across my face. ‘You took your time.’ Beneath the excitement, I feel this surge of panic – we’re totally off-script. I have no lines to recite. And this isn’t Ash, this isn’t some background noise, this is Willow – this matters.
But Willow just smiles. ‘I prefer fashionably late.’ He places one hand at the base of my spine and gently takes my hand in the other. The heat of his body travels through my clothes. The skin on my throat suddenly feels very exposed. He hums a soft melody under his breath and we begin to turn.
I decide to just take a risk. ‘Who was that girl?’
The humming stops, but we continue to revolve.
‘Who? Alice?’ he says.
I nod. And I can’t help feeling a little peeved that his mouth has formed her real name and not mine.
‘I met her yesterday at some social – a friend of a friend. She just seemed to . . . really know me. It felt like she could read my mind. And Mother had been nagging at me to get a date.’
I tuck my face into his chest so he can’t see my scowl. She used her knowledge of his character to her advantage. It feels like she’s cheated.
‘Well, you looked good together.’ I try to keep my voice light. This close, I can smell his aftershave and the scent of champagne on his breath.
He laughs, his chest vibrating beneath my ear. ‘No we didn’t, we looked awful, like a copy of a copy. We all look the same, us Gems, I get so bored of looking at us.’
‘You should mix with us Imps a bit more, you know, slum it.’
‘Is that an invite?’
‘Yeah, any time you fancy hanging out at the Imphut, just let me know.’
We stop revolving and he holds me away from his body so I can really take in the beauty of his face – so perfect, it’s almost bland.
‘Alice was quite charming,’ he says. ‘But she said a few things that really made me . . .’ I get this twinge in my stomach, anticipating the stab of further betrayal. But he chuckles softly to himself and says, ‘. . . miss you.’
The betrayal thins in my veins. ‘Like what?’
‘Oh you know, she said something about intrigue being at the core of attraction and, of course, I thought of you. I know I said I loved the way you were so free, but I also love the way you can be so, so . . . awkward, and real. You’re such a strange combination, you really fascinate me.’ He pauses. ‘You remind me of what it is to be human.’
This really makes me smile. Not just because he uses the word human, an old-fashioned term never used in the world of The Gallows Dance, as it implies the Imps and Gems belong to one species, but also because he likes me. Violet. The branches slapping my face, the hair in my mouth, he finds it fascinating.
He takes both my hands in his. ‘And then Alice said something really beautiful. She said that you could spend your whole life wandering the earth and never find that one person who makes you feel complete. So if you ever meet that person, you should cling to them with both hands and never let them go.’ He pulls my hands into his chest and smiles.
The quote from the book. Alice was helping me all along. I feel like a maple seed, spinning and floating through the sky. The betrayal disperses completely, replaced by pure love for my best friend.
‘Rose?’ he says.
I shake my head. ‘Sorry, yes. Never let them go.’ I take a deep breath. It’s time to seal the deal – to get the canon back on track and go home. I smile into his beautiful face and say, ‘It’s like we were born to . . .’ and as if to prove the point, he joins in, and we utter the same words, ‘. . . slot together.’
My mind reels back to earlier this evening. How Ash and I fitted so perfectly together, beneath the silver birch, curled up in the grass. But I order my brain to stay on track, to stay in the moment. I stare into Willow’s eyes and notice how bright they look against the watery, morning sky. He studies my face, tracing a line from the corner of my mouth to my cheekbone with his index finger.
Then finally, he kisses me.
We kiss for a long time, neither of us pulling away. I love the scent of his skin, the pressure of his lips, the gentle flick of his tongue against mine. It’s a perfect kiss, not a gherkin in sight. But I don’t feel moved. I no longer spin like a maple seed. It just isn’t how I’d imagined it all those times sat on the sofa, dreaming it was me in his arms. Maybe my expectation was just too high – he is, after all, only human. Genetically tweaked, but still just a man.
Eventually, the kiss comes to a natural end. He stands tall and smiles down at me. I ignore that nagging, disappointed feeling and tell myself I’m only doing this to go home. I’m about to kiss him goodbye, when a slight movement draws my attention. In the elm trees on the horizon, peering at us through the leaves.
The palest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.