All the Feels (9 page)

“I’m not pining, I’m…” Liv wanted to laugh, or cry. (Or both, she thought dismally.)

“I don’t like seeing you like this.” If he wasn’t at that exact moment rummaging through her wardrobe, Xander’s concern would have been touching.

“I can’t help it. I miss Spartan. And masterminding a revolution is a time-suck.”

“Exactly.” Xander nodded as if a decision had been made. “And a dose of reality is in order.”

“This advice from a college freshman carrying a cane?”

“It’s a walking stick, I’ll have you know.”

“Same difference.”

“Hardly. It’s fashion. Now, get ready. I’m taking you out.”

Liv groaned as Xander pushed his way into the overfull closet. T-shirts and jeans tumbled to the floor. “Sweet Jesus, Liv,” he sighed from the depths. “You realize this is a fire hazard, right?”

Liv peeked out from behind her laptop long enough to glare at him.

“Honestly, dearest, where are your dresses? Your heels? A body as lovely as yours requires adornment.”

“Don’t own any,” she grumbled, sinking lower in her bed. She’d been in an unpleasant mood all day, and Xander wasn’t helping. His impromptu makeover was making her feel like a freak.

“But you can’t go out in a T-shirt and jeans. You’re partying, not housecleaning!”

“I’m not doing either,” Liv argued, but Xander talked right over her.

“You need sparkle. Dancing demands it!”

“If I looked like a stick, I’d wear something nice, but big breasts make it hard to dress up.”

A slinky black T-shirt she’d worn once then hidden away hit her in the face. “Pfft! Your figure’s perfect.”

“Not perfect for this century.” She wadded the shirt into a ball and whipped it back at Xander, hitting him in the head. He paused next to the mirror, smoothing his pomaded hair.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

Liv’s catty retort died on her tongue. “Y-you do?”

“Yes, of course I do,” Xander said, his reflection winking at her. “You ever seen the painting of Madame X?”

“I don’t think—”

“That’s you to a tee, Liv.” He picked the shirt off the floor and tossed it back at her. “Now move. It’s almost eleven, and I promised Arden we’d be at the club half an hour ago.”

“Arden’s coming, too?” Liv hated feeling like a third wheel.

“Uh-huh. She’s probably already there.” He disappeared entirely, and his voice came from the layers of fabric. “Should be lots of fun … dancing’s always a good idea, and you need a break from the computer.…”

Liv looked at the screen.
Five hundred reblogs.
Her e-mail was clogged with replies, but tonight the thought of it made her sad. So many people missed Spartan. She turned off the notifications.

From the closet came a shout of triumph; Liv looked up just as the wall of clothing surged and Xander burst from between the folds, dragging what looked like a shimmering silver facecloth. He held it victoriously aloft.

“A skirt! You’ve been holding out on me.”

Liv stared at it in confusion. She could vaguely remember the sparkly sequined miniskirt from some foggy middle school dance, which Liv had spent hiding in the washroom, overcome by anxiety. She hadn’t worn it in years. The skirt was far too small, the hem far too high.

“Uh-uh,” Liv said, pushing her computer off her lap and onto the bed. “No way. I’ll never get in it.”

Xander crossed his arms, the skirt dangling from his fingers. His jaw was clenched. “I’m not going out with someone dressed like my eight-year-old brother. Just try it on before you decide.”

“And if I refuse?”

“I’ll remind you that you owe me one.” A devilish smile curled his lips, his shock of dark hair and white shirt channeling mad, bad Lord Byron. “
More
than one, if you’re serious about filming another video.”

Liv snapped the laptop closed. “Fine.”

With a laugh, Xander dropped the skirt on the bed and stepped outside. “I await your return.”

*   *   *

Liv stood in front of the narrow mirror, frowning at her reflection. Long brown hair that hung smooth and flat, a body too curvy for her own comfort, and a face so average as to be bland. The shirt was okay, but the skirt left far more of her legs showing than she felt comfortable with. Tears welled, blurring her vision.

“Wrong century, that’s for damned sure.”

“Liv,” Xander called from the hallway. “Can I see?”

The line between her brows grew deeper. If it were anyone else, she’d have said no, but Xander was Xander. Ever since their first CU class together, when they’d been two outcasts, they’d clung to each other for comfort. Where most people made Liv feel weird, Xander was strange enough in his own right that she felt like the normal one.

“Nothing to see,” she snapped. “I’m not going dancing.”

The door opened a crack. “Are you decent?”

Liv laughed. “Keep talking like that and you’re really going to get my mom’s imagination going.” She tugged at the skirt, inching it lower. “Yeah, come on in.”

Xander crept back inside, his eyes widening.

“Oh God,” Liv groaned. “I told you I didn’t—”

“It’s perfect!” He grinned as he inspected the outfit from one direction, then the other, nodding to himself. “I knew, of course, but to finally see you out of your T-shirt-and-jean cocoon is quite refreshing.”

“So you like it?”

Xander’s eyes caught hers in the mirror. “Of course I do! Good lord, Liv,” he said with a snort. “I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t. This is hardly daring, but it’s a start!”

“I dunno, Xander.…”

His hands rose to his hips. “You don’t know what?”

She chewed her lower lip, staring uncertainly at the not-this-century woman in the mirror. The clothes fit, but there was so much skin. “I don’t know about this. I feel … exposed.”

Xander’s laughter suddenly faded. “Oh, Liv,” he said gently. “I’m so sorry I’ve upset you. I didn’t realize—”

“It’s not you; it’s me.” She let out a tired laugh. “I just don’t know how to
be
this.”

She could feel tears threatening to fall, her image in the mirror blurring. Xander stepped up next to her. She expected him to make a joke, but his words were quiet and sincere.

“You’re breathtaking. Seriously, Liv. Absolutely beautiful.” His vowels had softened, the nervous inflection slipping back into the conversation. “Truly, dearest, you are.”

“Thanks. I needed to hear that.” Liv grabbed her jacket off the bed and forced a smile. “Now, if we’re going to the mixer, then let’s go before I change my mind.”

Xander swung open the door and bowed. “After you, m’lady.”

*   *   *

Breathtaking.

That was the word, Liv decided, that had persuaded her to wear the ludicrous outfit, because no one—not the one, solitary boyfriend she’d had during high school, or the leering frat boys she avoided at college parties—had ever spoken to her with such reverence. Although her mother’s borrowed heels made her as unwieldy as a newborn moose calf, with Xander beaming down at her, she
did
feel beautiful. Hopefully she could make it through the night without breaking her neck.

By the time they’d arrived, Arden was gone. She’d stepped out for only a minute, Arden’s friends assured Xander. But when she didn’t return his first, second, or fifth texts, the truth became clear. She’d bailed on them for being late. Xander had looked so let down by his girlfriend’s abandonment that Liv had finally asked him to dance.

“Like dance here…?” Xander asked. “For real?”

“Yes, for real,” Liv snorted. “I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise.”

“I know, but—”

“But what?” she asked defensively.

He grinned. “I’m just surprised you dance. I thought it was against your religion or something.”

Liv laughed. “Philosophy, yes. Religion, no.” She shoved him toward the dance floor. “Now hurry up before I change my mind.”

He grabbed her hand. “Not a chance.”

Xander’s obsessing over nineteenth-century fabrics was the person Liv knew; Xander’s breaking it out to the latest alternative-rock song was a sight to behold. Liv couldn’t help but giggle as he tugged her out with him song after song, grinding to the beat, while the press of partyers grew into a mob. They were completely mismatched—Liv in her silver skirt and black tee, and Xander in his nineteenth-century garb—but she didn’t care. She floated on a bubble of pleasure. This
had
been a good idea (though she’d die before she admitted that), and the gloom that had hung over her since Spartan’s final moments seemed to fade.

Xander grinned and said something, but it was lost under the thudding bass.

“What?!” Liv shouted.

“Are you having fun yet?!”

“Absolutely!”

“Good!”

He grabbed her hand and spun her in a circle, the two of them laughing aloud as the song reached a fever pitch. Liv was smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive, so happy, so—

“Xander! Liv!” a familiar voice called. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

Xander’s face broke into an even-wider grin. “Arden!” He laughed. “The prodigal girlfriend has arrived!”

“My roommate lost her keys,” she said with a shake of her head. “Just got back. Sorry for ditching.”

“No problem,” Liv mumbled.

Arden grinned at Liv before turning to Xander. Her hand slid possessively up his chest. “You ready to dance?”

Xander slipped into her embrace, Liv forgotten at the side. “Of course, m’lady.” He leaned closer. “You look utterly ravishing, you know that?”

“Mmm … thank you.” Arden pressed a kiss to his mouth. “You do, too.”

Liv turned away. She really wished they would wait until they were alone to do stuff like that. She had no idea where she was supposed to
look
when they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

She scanned the room. There were numerous acquaintances, but no one she felt comfortable enough to talk to. Without Xander at her side, she was lost. She dropped her gaze to the floor, her eyes catching on the silver miniskirt. There was no way she was spending
another
night sitting in a bathroom in this outfit.

She tried to pick up the rhythm of the music. (Girls could dance alone, couldn’t they?) But the motion of her body—supple seconds earlier—had grown wooden. The jerky bouncing finally disappeared altogether, and she stood alone, jostled by the sea of moving bodies. She peeked over at Xander and Arden. They moved as one, pressed together from hip to chest.

Liv stumbled as someone slammed unceremoniously into her back. She turned to find another couple pushing into her space. The man’s elbows and kneecaps were moving targets, and Liv jumped back as his heel grazed her shin.

“And … I’m done,” she growled. A wall of college students blocked her way. “Excuse me,” Liv grumbled as she wobbled off the dance floor. “I need to get past.”

A laughing young man with a bottle in hand stepped in front of her. He bumped her shoulder, and beer slopped onto her arm.

“Watch out!” she snapped.

“Hey, no harm, no foul.” He laughed as he continued on by, followed by a throng of girls.

“Excuse
you
,” Liv said, stepping around them.

It felt like wading upstream, and the crowd grew with each step. She reached the edge of the dance floor. Now she was caught between tables and leering frat boys who thought nothing of ignoring her face to admire her bosom. Liv crossed her arms and walked faster, pushing her way through the ever-thickening mob. The whole outfit was a nightmare.

“Excuse me, pardon me. Coming through.” Her jaw clenched. “Move!”

Finally, she reached a wall. She leaned against it, panting. Her eyes roamed the room. No friends, just “others” who filled the classes she attended. Her gaze returned guiltily to the dance floor. Xander shone like a beacon: an out-of-time character in a sea of nameless extras. As Liv watched, he swept Arden across the floor. She threw her arms over his shoulders, pulling him down to meet her lips. Liv couldn’t look away. The embrace could have been from an old Hollywood movie. Xander dipped Arden low, her hair a waterfall of silver draping over his arm to brush the floor.

With a resigned sigh, Liv looked away. She plodded to the coat check to retrieve her coat and purse, then stepped outside. It was snowing again.

“Just my luck.”

The cold settled into her limbs as she stomped her way to the bus stop, her mood dropping with the degrees. There was only one thing that could match her emotions:
Starveil Five
.

5

“THIS IS MY TIMEY-WIMEY DETECTOR. IT GOES DING WHEN THERE’S STUFF.”

(
DOCTOR WHO
)

It was three a.m., but Liv couldn’t sleep. She dabbed tears from her eyes and restarted the streaming vid. The
Starveil
theme rose, the opening sequence appearing amid a barrage of music. Spartan appeared, grinning broadly at the camera. Seeing him, her sobs redoubled, fresh tears tumbling down her cheeks. If she could just go back to this moment when she’d seen it in the theater, she could believe it would all be okay. But she
knew
how it ended. How Spartan died. The pain was unbearable, and yet she couldn’t stop watching.

She hit Pause, then grabbed a wad of tissues to blow her nose. She reached to hit Play at the same time her phone buzzed. She frowned as she read the screen.