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Hudson shrugged one shoulder, looking away from Armando's piercing eyes. “Well, you took Cameron's girlfriend,” she responded lightly. “What makes him think you're not going to take
his
girlfriend?”

The question was rhetorical but I felt the need to answer anyway. “I'm
not
!” I said, stung by Armando's distrust. “I would
never
do that to Armando!” I looked over at him, watching as he stood there, arms crossed, staring wistfully at his girlfriend dancing in my arms. I was so repulsed by his suspicions that I wanted to step out of Hudson's arms and get as far away from her as possible. Armando was a good guy; I could never do such a horrible thing as steal his girl.

“And I didn't
steal
Cameron's girlfr—” I looked back at Hudson, who now had her head resting on my chest. I quickly shrugged her off. “You probably don't want to do that,” I warned, glancing surreptitiously at Armando. “It'll make him even more jealous.”

She sighed and rolled her head back up, meeting my eyes. “He'll always be jealous,” she said defeated, “it's one of the reasons why I can't just go off and be queen for real in Galicia.”

“You
want
to be queen of the Gray Eyes?” I asked in bewilderment. I thought that job sucked! Who would actually want it?

She smiled, finding my astonishment amusing. “Well, yeah,” she said, “I've always wanted to be queen of something. All the luxury, you know. I don't see anything wrong with it, really.”

I nodded, her words ringing truthful in my mind. What was I saying? Who
doesn't
want to be queen? “Well, you should be queen of the Gray Eyes,” I offered. “You seem like you'd be good at it. Not all mean and ruthless like your father.”

“Exactly!” she said, grinning at me. “You Gray Eyes need me. He's getting too old for that job, anyway.”

I was about to respond but was distracted by the sudden movement at my side. It was Armando and some other chick, dancing awfully close to us. Armando was staring daggers at the two of us, but while I was struggling to retain my composure, Hudson seemed at ease, dancing with an air of tranquility.

Taking my eyes off of Mr. Jealous, I looked around the room, taking in all the flashing lights and pizzazz that were sprinkled everywhere. I realized that this frilly-frilly atmosphere was fun and all, but Cameron would've enjoyed this a lot more than I did.

But he couldn't be here. Not at nighttime.

The wave of pity flew over me again as I looked at Olive, her smile bright as she stood beside Anjolie and her camera, smiling at me. Hudson's words about how I stole Cameron's girlfriend took over my thoughts. Staring at Olive's happy face, I realized that I did take his girlfriend. And… I wasn't sorry for it. I literally had no remorse for taking her. And it killed me to know that.

In a way I was becoming Cameron, and this wasn't good. I took his friends, his girl, his dad, his home — his everything, and he could do nothing about it. Here I was, basking in his glory while he's just dormant, having no clue about what's going on. Anjolie had to take a
camera
for him to witness this special moment. He worked for the crown, and…
I'm
wearing it.

I shook my head, disgusted at my realization. I had to get out of this body and soon. And I think I had an idea how.

I glanced back at Hudson and met her eyes. “Hey, Hudson,” I asked when I had her attention, “When did you say you were going to visit your dad?”

Cameron

When I awoke the next morning, the first image that popped into my head was Anjolie's sad face when I told her that I couldn't drive her around anymore. I felt horrible about letting her down, forcing her to walk everywhere from now on. It was like giving someone a million dollars and then snatching it away from them right when they were about to make their first purchase. I knew I had to make it up to Anjolie some way, somehow. Just soon.

Rubbing my face, I glanced at my bedside table, noticing the large crown that sat next to my phone. I smiled, reaching over to feel the cool, red velvet. I won. I won Homecoming King. All these years of trying, and I actually
won
.

I picked up the note that lay right under the hat and read it.

Cameron,

You won, bud! Congrats with the win. I had a great time at the dance. Thanks for that!

Cam

Smiling, I placed the note back on the table and rested my head back on my pillow. I'm glad he enjoyed the dance. I won the crown and he got to party. In a way, we both got what we wanted.

The knock on my door forced me to sit up in bed and walk over to answer it.

“Good morning, Dad.” I greeted him as I opened the door wider.

He walked in and sat on the foot of my bed, grabbing up one of my weights and flexing his biceps. “Hello there, kiddo,” he said. “How's your morning so far?”

I flexed my neck and rushed a hand through my hair. “It just started, Dad,” I answered, rummaging in my drawer for a pair of socks. At the moment, Cam had me dressed in casual basketball shorts and a plain white T-shirt. But since it was almost November, the temperature had been plummeting and it was getting seriously cold out. Definitely not the kind of weather for walking. The thought of Anjolie having to walk everywhere appeared in my head again, pulling a tight knot in my stomach.

I shook out the thoughts and reached for a pair of socks. “So what brings you up here so early, Dad?” I asked. I pulled on the thick, black socks, tugging them all the way up to mid calf. Now, where was my sweatshirt?

Dad shuffled around in this packet he had suddenly brought out, pulling out large, glossy photos. “Did you wanna see the Homecoming pictures?” he asked me, spreading them out onto the bed.

I complied, joining him on the bed and leafing through the photos. They came out pretty awesome and everyone looked super fancy in their Homecoming attire. I was surprised that even though I, well,
Cam
, was his son, there were so many photos of Hudson and her beautiful dress — almost as if
Hudson
were his daughter.

I looked up and rolled my eyes at Dad. “Really, Dad?” I asked, showing him all of the photos.

He shrugged helplessly, trying to appear innocent. “Hey, she looked absolutely magnificent last night! I had no choice!”

I laughed at him and continued to skim the photos. I saw that Cam and Olive were matching and that Olive looked more beautiful than I've ever seen her. And judging by the looks Cam was giving her, I could tell he thought so, too. But what scared me the most was that I didn't even blink at her refined appearance. That zing that normally coursed through my body at the sight of her just wasn't there. It was like looking at a pretty girl in a high-fashion magazine — she was really, really hot, but I had no feelings for her. She was just… a pretty picture.

“…videotaped the whole night just so you could see it,” Dad was saying as he looked at pictures of Anjolie. “I tell you, that girl has a good heart.”

I nodded, still freaked out at my lack of emotion for Olive. Where had those emotions gone to? Just yesterday, we were the golden couple, holding hands, kissing, just being with each other. Everything was perfect just the way it was. So what happened all of a sudden?

“…look perfect in these photos!” Dad was saying as he fingered the one of Cam and Anjolie. I was subconsciously avoiding Anjolie's photos, afraid for what might happen once I laid eyes on them. “You kids are amazing! That's why I hired you guys for Midnight Models. Your faces scream million-dollar campaigns.” Dad handed me the photo of Cam and Anjolie, reaching for another to gaze at.

Slowly, I looked down at the photo, looking at Cam before I glanced cautiously at Anjolie. She was smiling brightly, her head cocked to the side, the light hitting her silvery-blond curls at every angle. With her hand on her jutting hip, the confident smile painted on her red lips, the shiny twinkle in her gray eyes, I knew then what had happened to my emotions.

They were all here, staring at Anjolie.

I almost flung the picture across the room, now even more frightened by this new situation. I rubbed my hands down my face, trying, unsuccessfully, to wipe away those sudden emotions that consumed my eyes, my body, my heart. This couldn't be happening. Not right now. I have a girlfriend. I have a girlfriend.

I have a girlfriend
.

“What's wrong, my boy?” Dad asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You look like you've just seen a ghost.” He laughed at his trite joke, shaking his head at my shaken expression.

I cleared my throat and stood up, trying to get as far away from the photos as possible. “Uh… Dad, I'm going to… uh… take a shower, so…” I let my words hang in the air as I stared at him, pleading silently with my eyes.

Fortunately, Dad took the hint and gathered up the photos. “Right, son,” he said, still humored with his joke. “You go take that shower.” He stood up, the package in hand. “I'll be in the next room.” And with that, he walked out of my room and shut the door.

Finally, when he was gone, I took that time to hop onto my bed and scream as loud as I could into my pillow, letting out all the emotions bottled up inside me. But screaming wasn't enough. What I needed was a cold shower, and fast.

I almost felt sane again when I exited my bathroom, dressed in a warm sweater and baggy sweatpants, my feet clad in fuzzy, black socks. Now, all I needed was some hot chocolate.

Downstairs was quiet as I tiptoed into the kitchen. Mila was probably still asleep and Dad was off doing work in his “me time” office. The large empty house was kind of relaxing in a sense.

As I rummaged through the cupboards for a large mug, I heard the doorbell ring. I froze, glancing at the door in the other room. Who could possibly be visiting this early on a Sunday morning? Probably one of Dad's “people.” Sighing, I padded over to the door and looked through the peephole.

You know that moment when the protagonist in a horror film peaks slowly around the corner only to come face-to-face with the monster and everyone screams in fright? Well, when I saw Anjolie peering up at me through the peephole as well, that was when everyone screams.

Biting my knuckle to avoid screaming, myself, I looked around, trying to come up with something that would get me out of this situation. I could always just not answer, you know, pretend I wasn't home. But, glancing at my watch, I saw that it was only a quarter past seven — where could I be so quickly after my change? Tossing that excuse aside, I contemplated hiding in my room, claiming that I'd come down with some sort of sickness. But that wouldn't work — I never got sick, what with my dual DNA and stuff. Maybe I could pretend that I went to grab some groceries? That seemed like a great idea, that is, if my car weren't parked in the driveway.

I had to face it; there was no way out of this situation. I just had to face her — and my emotions — like a man. Gulping, I opened up the door, smiling nervously. “Uh, hey, Anjolie,” I greeted, trying not to meet her eyes. Instead, I looked over her shoulder and up at the sky. It was strangely overcast today, seeming as if it were going to rain cats and dogs any moment now.

I could sense Anjolie's smile as she brought something out of her messenger bag. “Hi, Cameron,” she said, bringing out a DVD. “I brought over the video of the dance. You wanna watch it?” she asked with her smooth voice.

I couldn't turn her away. She'd just walked miles from her home to mine, just so
I
could see the dance video. My dad was right; she did have a good heart. “Yeah, sure, come in,” I said, motioning her inside.

She smiled and walked in, passing me as she went to place her shoes in the den. I shivered at the sudden fragrance of cinnamon that wafted away from her, my eyes rolling up to the ceiling as I basked in the odor. It was always that smell that drove me wild, the scent that took me over the top. She had to do something about that perfume.

“I got some really sick shots, Sloane,” Anjolie said as she hung her bag up on the coat rack. “I should really go into filmography. I think it's my calling.” She laughed as she shook out of her heavy jacket, hanging it, too, up on the rack.

I laughed courteously at her words, shoving my hands into my pockets awkwardly. I felt severely underdressed next to Anjolie, who was clad in dark, skinny jeans and a cream cashmere sweater. With her bouncy locks and creamy attire, she looked so innocent and gentle, nothing at all like the boss of the Gray Eyes.

She clapped her hands together. “So,” she said perkily, “where should we watch this masterpiece?” She clicked her ballet flats together giddily.

“Um…” I said, shrugging. I looked toward the living room, surveying the area. Big screen TV, fluffy couches, wide
open
space. “The living room sounds good,” I said, smiling as I headed over there. No way were we going to watch it in
my
room. That place
screamed
bad decisions.

I sat down on the armchair that was directed at an angle toward the TV screen. Anjolie sat down on the love seat positioned directly in front of the big screen and glanced at me. “Sit here, Sloane,” she suggested, patting the seat beside her. “You know, to get the whole
movie theater
effect.” Her eyes were wide and innocent as she regarded me.

I cleared my throat, chuckling nervously. “I—I'm okay over here, thank you,” I said, giving her a smile. I couldn't be near her and that scent. I didn't trust myself.

Anjolie laughed and patted the seat again. “Oh, quit it with the shyness, Sloane,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I'm not
death
. I promise I won't bite.”

I sighed, choosing to believe in her words. I trusted
her
, but it was
myself
I had problems with. Finally, I swallowed my anxiety and stood up to join Anjolie on the couch.

She smiled at me once I sat down, and handed me the remote control. “Start this thing,” she said and then snuggled up into the back of the couch, bringing her knees up to her chest as she waited in anticipation.

I followed her command and inserted the disc into the DVD player, the TV shooting up with the words THE NIGHT OF A LIFETIME in bright, sparkly letters.

I smiled as I joined Anjolie on the couch, tuning into the movie. Despite all of Anjolie's self-praise, the video appeared just like any other Homecoming video, showing the preparation part, some commentary, the kids dancing, pictures, the food — all the works. By the way Anjolie was speaking to and addressing the camera, the video was kind of like a documentary, only this one was about a high school dance.

I watched all of the footage that she caught on tape — the five of them dancing, Hudson and Cam getting crowned, Dave and Tanya storming off in a teary huff — but it was only when Anjolie's face appeared on the camera, speaking to me, that I actually paid attention. I found myself hanging onto every one of her words, even if they were strictly mundane and succinct. Her face was just so luminous and happy, an attitude that Anjolie wore rarely. I was happy that she was having a great time there, even without a date.

But then again, I guess
I
was her date.

“He even got all of the wallflowers to dance on the dance floor,” Anjolie said, pointing at the footage of everyone dancing and hooting on the dance floor. “Cam was really having a blast at the dance.” She sounded almost happy for him.

I nodded, watching the footage of Cam dancing within a circle of kids, pumping his fists and moving his body to the rhythm while everyone watched and mimicked his dance moves. They were all moving in a sea of one, having the time of their lives.

“They called it the Hammerin' Cameron,” Anjolie informed me, laughing as she pumped her fist in the air, moving around like Cam did in the video. “They couldn't get enough of it. It was, like, the highlight of the dance.” Her eyes sparkled as she recalled the moment.

I laughed, mimicking the dance move, but stopped when Anjolie began laughing at me. I shrugged, blushing with embarrassment. “I never said I could dance like Cam, alright,” I said, shaking my head with a shy smile.

Anjolie just laughed again and patted my knee. “Stick to books, Sloane” was all she said before turning back to the screen.

But I kept my eyes on her, taking in her long, brown eyelashes, her soft, puckered lips, her shiny, blond curls. She was really a sight.

Seeming to have noticed my staring, she met my eyes, smiling as she pointed to the screen. “Watch, Sloane,” she said. “You're missing the king and queen dance.” If she were embarrassed by my staring, she sure didn't show it.

Reluctantly, I turned my attention back at the screen, focusing my eyes on Cam and Hudson, decked out in king and queen crowns, dancing slowly in each other's arms. They seemed to be in a serious conversation; each had their eyebrows furrowed in the middle as they took in each other's words.

I cocked my head to the side, curious. “What are they talking about?” I asked.

Anjolie shrugged. “I heard Hudson say ‘Galicia' a few times and Cam making plans for some time in the future, but with all of the loud music, I couldn't really pick up anything on camera,” she explained.

I nodded slowly, finding their heated conversation suspicious. Why would Cam be talking so seriously with Hudson? Was he planning something? Were
they
planning something?

Before I could sum up any conclusions, the scene changed to Anjolie walking out of the dance. “What a night, Sloane,” she said to the camera as she hiked up her dress and headed toward the limo. “Once again, I wish you could've been here but…” She positioned the camera up and faced it toward the starry night sky. “…this is for you, Mr. Day Man.” She panned out the camera, showing the entire night sky as soft music played in the background. I gazed at the midnight, gazing admiringly at the stars sparkling against the black blanket of nighttime. It was a beautiful, cloudless night — perfect for a school dance. She then moved the camera back to her face, smiling softly as she said, “Goodnight, Sloane. Until next time…” and then everything went black.

When the words THE END appeared onto the screen in the same sparkly letters as the first set of words, Anjolie and I clapped joyously.