https://youtu.be/6OFv566mj7s

Note:- @K_Blackwood Introduced me to this lovely song that sets the mood for this chapter. Thank you!🧡

♀

"I'm not going to the dance."

Something strikes my bottom with a sharp, stinging crack and with a startled yelp, I roll onto my back and sit up, blinking at Delia standing next to my bed with one of my slippers in her hand. She is poised, ready to strike again.

"I swear, Kira-Marie Croft, I'll put you over my knee and spank you the way your father used to when you were small and being a little brat!" she threatens, and I scoot up to the headboard of my bed, pulling my knees to my chest and wrapping my arms protectively around my legs. An armed Delia is a frightening phenomenon.

"Daddy never spanked me," I protest, not understanding her sudden violence, and I stick my lower lip out, pouting like a toddler.

"Yeah, clearly a lapse on his part because just look at you now! You've been lying here on your stomach, wearing your PJs, saying nonsensical things for way too long while you're supposed to get ready for the dance."

That is not true! 

I've been lying here on my bed thinking about the things Ethan told me on the beach. We didn't get another chance to talk to each other, and his words have been going round and around in my head, driving me nuts. I've finally come to the conclusion that the only way to avoid complete insanity would be to stay home tonight and avoid the dance and ultimately avoid Ethan. I need to do a lot of avoidance.

"I'm not saying nonsensical things, Delia!" I correct her. "I cannot do this dating thing anymore."

"Why not?" she asks, dropping the slipper and, sitting down on my bed, she crawls closer until she's on her knees directly in front of me. She's not completely threatening anymore, but I don't like having her this close to me if she's planning on being all violent and scary.

"He deserves to be happy," I tell her the truth that's been burning in my heart while I lay here across my bed, feeling like I'm going to die.

"Well, duh!"

I sigh, turning my head until I'm looking past Delia, my eyes travelling to the mirror of the vanity across from my bed, where my two newest blocked photographs are reflected. Daddy put those on the wall above my bed this afternoon when he returned from the beach. He said Ethan gave them to him this morning before we left for the yacht race and asked him to put them up for me when he got a chance.

Every time I see them, my throat closes up, and my eyes spring a leak. They are so beautiful. He wrote the date and place on the back of each image. The one was taken at the waterfall after Saturday's rugby match. He must've taken it while lying on his back under a canopy of leaves shimmering in various shades of green with fractions of sunlight sparkling like jewels through the openings between them. 

The other is one of my favourites among the pictures he'd taken of the mud on Sunday. Thick, cracked, fudge-like mud, partially covered by rippling water, glistening moistly in flickering sunlight. He lay on his stomach to take that one from a close-up angle as if the viewer is part of the mud.

He truly has a good eye for colour, light and composition; I was stunned into silence when I saw them hanging above my bed. It is such a thoughtful gift, and what have I given him? Sweet nothing! 

My fingers creep over the pillows behind and around me until I find the ragdoll he gave me yesterday, and I pull her between my legs and my chest, trapping her in place against my heart. Gazing around me, I realise that my room is filled with plushies and trinkets Ethan gave me through the years, sweet little gifts that tell the story of our 12-year-long friendship. Looking at them, I suddenly find it very hard to breathe.

Why have I never realised that my life is completely filled with Ethan?

"Kiki, what happened?" Delia whispers, reaching out to brush an escaped tear from my cheek. "Why are you so sad?"

"I hate that his heart was broken, and he hurt himself because of it and now struggles to forgive himself for making a mistake," I say, immediately regretting my words. I don't want to betray Ethan's trust. It took a lot of courage for him to admit all of that to me.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Delia is frowning at me, her blue eyes stormy with emotion.

"Last year when he was so depressed..." I give her a hint.

"Kiki, that was ages ago!" I'm surprised that she is actually looking relieved now. "He is not heartbroken and depressed anymore," she smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "He is very happy these days, and he is getting ready to go to the festival dance with you."

"He should go with the girl he loves," I mutter, tension gnawing in my gut. I don't know how much Delia knows or doesn't know about Ethan's love life, and I don't want to spill any of his secrets, but I really need to know what she knows so that I can understand it all better.

"Well, duh!"

"Will you stop doing that?!" I growl, trying to glare at her, but I'm simply feeling too melancholy to pull it off.

"No."

I chew on my lip, not sure what I can and cannot say to her. Ethy really bared his soul to me today, and I want to be worthy of his trust, not blab about it to Delia. She might know all about what happened with Amber, and she might know about the girl who broke his heart, the one he's pining for. She might also not know, in which case it is not my place to tell her. 

This is tricky. 

I really need her advice, but I need her to be objective, and she has never been able to be objective when it comes to her brother.

"I think he might be in love with someone else," I whisper, surprised to hear my voice breaking on the words. Good, I've told her without telling her. Now it's just me speculating, not me spilling his secrets.

"The only person he's in love with is his girlfriend," Delia informs me, crossing her arms and giving me the kind of look she gets on her face when it is not safe to disagree with her.

"Please stop," I groan, exasperated. "I don't want to play anymore; I'm being serious."

"Don't make me pick up that slipper," she grunts, not in the least deterred by my demand for her to take this seriously.

"You can do with the blooming slipper whatever you want; it won't change the fact that I'm being serious and you're mocking me."

Delia heaves a long sigh and gently takes one of my hands, holding it in hers, tenderly patting its back.

"I am not mocking you, Kiki," she says. "I would never mock you. Is it really that impossible for you to imagine being a real couple with Ethan? To believe that he is in love with you?"

I glance at the mirror again, admiring the leaves and the mud, and a small smile involuntarily touches my lips. I lift my free hand to run my fingertips over the stones nestling warmly at my throat.

"I no longer know what I think or believe. Things are becoming so tangled; it is hard to tell what is real and what is not," I decide to be honest with her. "If it gets out of hand and goes wrong, it will destroy our family, Dell."

"Oh, my word, Kiki!" Delia exclaims, flicking my forehead with the fingers of her free hand. I hiss at her, pressing the palm of my hand over the spot. Delia is always doing that when she thinks I'm being stubborn or obtuse. I'm not! This is a very valid fear; why can't she see it? If things between Ethan and me turn sour, I cannot see us acting carefree during family events anymore. I'll be devastated and will want to hide from him, and Daddy will be torn between us.

"Our family bonds are not that flimsy. Seriously! You'll be my sister until death whether you're dating my brother or not, and your dad has pretty much adopted Ethan, and the same goes for my parents and grandparents and you. Stop being so scared of grabbing what you want and being happy! Live a little! You either love Ethe, and you go for it, or you don't... that's between you and my brother; the rest of us are solid. We will all survive whatever happens because we would want to survive it. Besides, why will it go wrong? You're perfect for each other! I've been telling you that for years!"

Yes, she'd been saying things like, "You're both idiots; you're perfect for each other." "You two are so annoying when you're together; you're perfect for each other!" "Stop messing around with my paint, or I'm going to lock the two of you in the shed because you belong there with the other tools; you're perfect for each other!" There are a million examples, and they all include Delia being irritated with us. She never mentioned love!

Is Ethan in love with me?

"I've never broken his heart..." I frown, once again shying away from the deduction that I'm the girl Ethan was talking about. It cannot be. The very idea of hurting him to that extent is tearing my heart apart. I remember how ill he'd been, just lying in his bed, not responding to anybody. It was completely out of character. I couldn't possibly have caused that. I don't want to be the cause. I never want him to be in that state again.

"You will break his heart if you don't get ready for the dance," Delia frowns at me, clearly not understanding what I'm on about. "He is really looking forward to it."

Hearing that stabs my heart, and groaning, I give Delia a sad look. She might be right about that. I don't want to disappoint Ethan; he did seem to be rather excited about it. He usually goes to the dance to get up to no good with his friends, not to actually dance, but he seemed to like the idea of going there to dance with me.

"Relax, will ya?!" Delia says, seeing the tense look on my face. "The only way you could possibly destroy his heart is if you started dating some other guy again." 

She's making it sound like I've had a gazillion love affairs. The longest I dated anybody was last year when I dated Liam for a few days. It's barely worth mentioning and wasn't really romantic or exciting at all. I cannot see how that would break anybody's heart. It didn't seem to bother Ethan, well, no more than in an over-protective big brother way.

"Now come on, I have our outfits all planned out, and since you refused to come to my place and I had to charge all the way over here to give you a hiding, I brought everything we need here. It took loads of effort! Just so you know."

She scrambles off my bed and grabs my ankle to pull me towards her, and giggling, I roll away from her, dropping my feet to the carpet and standing up.

"I'm going to make you look so hot; you're going to make my brother lose his mind," she tells me with a grin contagious in its excitement.

"That's a little warped, you know?" I scoff, shaking my head.

"Is it?" She blinks at me, and I tighten my lips, making bug eyes at her, finally giving in to the giggles bubbling up inside me. Delia happily joins in my laughter when she realises exactly how strange that statement really was.

I dutifully follow her instructions to wear my floaty dark green, gold and burgundy floral print chiffon slip dress. We bought this dress for my birthday party last year; its hem stops just above my knee, and it has a ribbon-edged cross-over V-neckline. I let Delia tart me up with ringlets in my hair and light make-up on my face and some fun dangly copper earrings. She winds Ethan's bracelet around my wrist, giving the impression that I'm wearing several bracelets, and gives me one of her creations made of copper disks and green and dark red polished stones to hang around my neck, matching nicely with the earrings.

Gazing at my reflection in the mirror, I blink in surprise at how different I look. Grown-up and sparkling, like a stranger.

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, nervously brushing my hands over the soft material swirling around my thighs. I remember how unlike myself I felt wearing this last year to my party. Everybody told me I looked stunning, that the material brought out the copper highlights of my hair and the green in my eyes, but I'm not so sure. I felt like an alien back then, and I feel like one now too.

What if Ethan hates it?

"Absolutely sure! You are beautiful; you should flaunt it a little bit."

Delia looks breathtaking. She's wearing the blue twin of my dress. We bought these dresses together, and Aunt Gemma said we harmonize very well when we're both wearing them. The fabrics might harmonize, but unlike me, Delia looks effortlessly lovely, while I just look strange. She'd carefully gathered the top sections of her hair in an interesting feather and silk accessory above and slightly behind her left ear. The rest of her hair cascades in cheeky curls around her shoulders and down her back.

I give her a brave smile, but she can see right through my facade, to my nervous core and turning me to face the mirror, she stands behind me, laying her hands on my shoulders, and gives me an encouraging smile.

"Remember one thing, Kiki," she says, her face suddenly devoid of any mischief. "No matter what you think about Ethan and who and what he wants or doesn't want, he is dating you right now. You have the power to make it permanent if that is what you really want. And believe me; there is no other girl on this planet that has my endorsement. I don't trust anybody else with his heart. As far as I'm concerned, you're the only girl who'll ever be able to..." She stops, frowning and lifting one of her hands to gently wave it above my shoulder, searching for the right words.

"Make him happy?" I offer, and her face lights up.

"Put up with all his crap."

I did not expect that, and I once again draw her into my fit of giggles until I finally nod my head in agreement. There's no use arguing with Delia Fletcher once she's made up her mind about something.

"Tonight, you're going to a dance with Ethan. Granted, it's the town's usual gig with bad music and terrible lighting, but you could make it romantic and sweep his feet right out from under him if you use the chances you're given. It is going to be beautiful and so much fun."

We grab our purses, and I take her hand when she offers it, leaving the room with her and walking beside her along the hallway and down the stairs. Ethan is with Daddy in the kitchen when we arrive, and they both fall silent, slowly pushing back their chairs and getting to their feet, blinking at us when they see us.

Seeing Ethan's eyes widen and his lips parting, and the sweet smile spreading on his face, making his dimples appear as he gazes at me, I suddenly believe that it really could be me that he is in love with. My heart leaps inside my chest, fluttering around nervously, and I hold onto Delia's hand a little tighter to stop myself from running away.

It's dangerous for me to start believing fantasies like that, but I do rather like the enthralled way he is gazing at me. He suddenly seems to be as nervous as I am feeling.

"You girls are both so beautiful!" Daddy exclaims, crossing the floor to pull us into a hug, one arm around each of us.

"Thank you, Uncle Joe," Delia beams when he lets us go and twirls to give him the full effect while I, feeling a bit shy, step away from her, clutching my purse in both my hands, suddenly not sure what to do with them.

"Wow, Kicks, you look amazing," Ethan croaks, sounding more husky than usual. He reaches out, taking one of my hands in his, smiling down at me in a way that causes the blood in my veins to heat up a few degrees.

"Ethan, do I need to be worried here?" Daddy asks, narrowing his eyes speculatively, and I wish the floor would just open up and swallow me.

"You absolutely need to be worried, Uncle Joe," Delia laughs helpfully, and I give her a murderous look, which just makes her laugh more. "Isn't it great?!"

"Yes, you probably do," Ethan grins, dodging a playful swipe from Daddy, and I snatch my hand from his to wrap my arms around my father's waist, wishing I could just hide here forever when he embraces me in a comforting bear hug.

"Please ignore them, Daddy; they got too much sun today," I tell him, stepping away to look up at his face, smiling when he gingerly touches my hair, afraid of messing it up. His eyes are developing that wistful look they always get when he realises that I am not his baby girl anymore. I am growing up. 

At least it does not scare him quite as much anymore. I remember how freaked out he was when I had my first period and when I started to develop breasts. I took it in my stride because Dell was ahead of me with all of that, and I was there when Aunt Gemma guided her through the start of puberty. She did the same for me even though it wasn't strange anymore. For about a month, Daddy constantly looked like he was going to be ill or cry every time he looked at me.

That same look is starting to develop on his face now.

"Enjoy your evening, Daddy," I smile, hurrying to reassure him by squeezing his hand, and I can see his eyes clear up. "I'll see you later."

"You too, Pumpkin. Ethan...?"

"Yes, Sir, I'll take good care of her," Ethan chuckles, grabbing my father's hand and giving him a shoulder bump in the same greeting style I often see him use with his friends. I see the way my father smiles at him and realise once again just how much he loves and trusts this boy. It should never be destroyed.

"You'd better!" Daddy laughs.

When we say goodbye to my father, and Ethan takes my hand in his, guiding me to the kitchen door, I run my eyes over him. He is so handsome in a dark grey three-quarter sleeve, lace-up, cotton shirt, smoothly etching off his toned muscles. His black jeans hug his hips just right, and his hair is almost behaving itself for a change. Overall he looks delightfully rugged yet clean and so perfectly Ethan-like... and he smells amazing.

My eyes linger on the mother-of-pearl disk of my necklace completely at home at the base of his throat. Delia is right; I am Ethan's girlfriend for now, and he does look happy; I know he's not just pretending. The way he'd looked at me when he saw me entering the kitchen gave me hope and helped me to make up my mind.

No girl who could hurt him to the extent where he'd get drunk and get all tangled up with someone mean like Amber deserves his love. I am going to steal him away from her. He is mine now, and regardless of why and how that happened, I am not going to let him go. Tonight, while we're dancing under the short-circuiting fairy lights to the irritating tune of some old, worn-out dance favourite or another played by the Geriatrics Band (that is their actual name... and also a reference to their average age), I'm going to tell Ethan that I love him.

I'm going to be as open with him as he'd been with me and tell him that I want him to forget about this other girl who is too stupid to see his worth, and about what happened with Amber and about all the girls in the universe, and to give me a chance to make him happy because I am the only girl for him.

 End of story! 

My resolve remained strong when we reached the car, and Ethan opened the doors for Dell and me to get in; it lingered, pulsating in my veins while we were driving to Simon's house to pick him up, and it was still thrumming strongly all the way into town. I can now feel it draining away, seeping into the gutter with the rain running in a stream from the awnings where Delia and I are taking cover about ten minutes after we arrive at the dance.

We're in a crowd of townsfolk standing three deep under shop canopies in the street circling the town square while some of the men, including Ethan and his friends, are battling to erect specially designed rain covers over the fairy-light lit area set up for the dance. Honestly, this happens every year. The people in charge of arranging the dance always decide that there won't be any rain, regardless of what Aunt Holly Malone's knee has to say about the matter, and opts out of erecting the cumbersome tarps for just in case... and every year it starts to rain just as people begin to arrive for the dance.

"You were saying?" I grumble at Delia, nervously scanning the sky for any signs of lightning.

"It can still be romantic," she huffs, grabbing my hand and holding it tightly, squeezing it when the low rumble of thunder causes me to tense up. "You're just going to have to work a bit harder."

We both grimace, watching our boyfriends getting drenched out there, relieved when the downpour eases up to a light drizzle. Storms can be fierce and sudden here, but they seldom last very long.

When the structure is standing, everybody chips in to dry off the tables and chairs scattered around the puddle-filled paved square where the bulk of the dancing will be happening. The stack of old towels always in Uncle Ian's car is once again coming in very handy.

"Aren't you cold?" I ask Ethan when I find him in the crowd. He is soaked to the bone, his hair dripping with water, and when I reach up with a towel, he leans over so that I can reach his hair and try to capture the worst of the moisture.

"No, it's actually pretty good," he grins, his face way too close to mine now, his breath whispering against my cheek, making me feel light-headed. He is right; as refreshingly cool as it is, the rain is not doing much to combat the cloying heat, even without the presence of the sun. I gaze into Ethan's eyes, glimmering where they catch the glow of the thousands of fairy lights strung above us, causing the raindrops stubbornly clinging to his lashes to sparkle like diamonds.

"Thank you for those beautiful photographs; they were a wonderful surprise," I tell him, forcing the words through my tightening throat.

"You're welcome," he smiles, running the tips of his fingers over my cheek. "I'm glad you like them."

"I love them," I whisper, lowering the towel from his head. "Ethy," I breathe, swallowing against the nervous lump lodging itself in my throat. This is the moment, romantic or not; I'm just going to say what I need to say and get it over with. Whatever happens then must just happen, and that will be that.

I'm going to be brave and grab what I want and be happy... I hope...

I take one last deep breath, and then the world lights up in a bright flash of lightning, the following crackle and rumble of thunder drowning out any words I might have spoken, words shattered by the nauseating panic slamming into my chest. I'm only vaguely aware of the towel falling to my feet and Ethan's arms wrapping around me, pulling me into a tight embrace. 

"Just breathe, Kicks," he whispers, and clutching his shirt in my fists, I nestle my head into the shelter of his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat. "It's just the storm letting us know that it is passing on now. It's over. You're safe. We're safe."

He is right; as my body relaxes in his arms and my senses fill with his warmth and his fragrance, I become aware of the storm noises and sporadic flashes growing distant, the rain on the tarp high above us tapering out until there's nothing but an occasional drip. II know it will probably be coming and going in light showers almost all night now, but at least the electricity is leaving the atmosphere. The worst part of the storm is over.

"Hey," Ethan holds me away from him to gaze down into my upturned face. "It's all good."

I smile, feeling like an absolute idiot, as I always do when caught in a sudden storm and there are thunder and lightning involved, and I'm thrust into the clutches of a panic attack.

"Thanks," I whisper, and I'm starting to move away from him, wanting to escape from emotions and thoughts that are suddenly too much for me to wrap my mind around, but Ethan pulls me closer again and bending down, he captures my lips with his in a kiss that is both comforting and gentle, washing away the last tendrils of fear and anxiety, and I find myself leaning into the kiss, deepening it, loving the softness of his rain-cooled lips on mine.

"Kira," he whispers, lifting his head to look into my eyes once again. "I-."

"Eeeeeeeeethan! Come dance with meeeeeee!"

I find myself unceremoniously bumped from Ethan's arms when a blur of long, tangled blond hair, smelling like a brewery, grabs his arm and forcefully inserts herself between us, stepping on my toes, exposed in my delicate sandals.

This romance thing is going just GREAT!

♂♀