Mandy Hubbard: Prada and Prejudice

It's dark, except when the lights strobe and illuminate the floor filled with dancing people. A heavy beat reverberates in my chest and makes my lungs rattle.

I follow closely behind Mindy, afraid I'll lose her if I so much as look around. We make our way through throngs of people and away from the floor, toward a mixture of eclectic seats and asymmetrical couches. Angela climbs a few steps until we're on a balcony halfway between the floor and ceiling, not up an entire story but not exactly on the main level either. It reminds me of the terrace where the band played at the Pommeroy Ball.

I don't realize until I sit down that the boy from the door has followed us, and he's got three other guys with him. I stare down at the table and pick up a paper coaster like it's the most interesting thing in the world, because suddenly the self-consciousness is coming back full force.

And then it actually becomes the most interesting thing in the world. A single word is embossed in fancy calligraphy letters. A single word that makes it feel like the whole room is spinning.

Harksbury. What in God's name?

"What is this?" I point at it and shout in Mindy's ear.

She scrunches her eyebrows. "A coaster?"

I groan. "No, I mean, the name. Harksbury."

"Oh. It's the name of the club. I don't know what it means, though."

I do. It's the name of a dukedom. I wonder if that means some relative of Alex's invested in this place or something. Or if someone borrowed their name. Or what. But it has to mean Harksbury is real, that it existed. I stare down at the word again. If the shoes weren't enough... It has to be real. And seeing it like this reminds me of how I felt there. How it felt to be Rebecca.

I tuck the coaster into my back pocket and try to ignore the stare Angela is giving me. She probably thinks I'm totally nuts, stealing a paper coaster. But it's the closest I'll get to a souvenir of my time-bending trip. And having it on me makes me feel stronger, somehow, like I can always be that girl at the ball.

I look up when the boys file in and sit down on a bright orange couch shaped like a slug. "Ladies. This is Grant, Tim, and Alex," door-boy says. He doesn't even introduce himself. I guess I'm supposed to know who he is.

I smile at Grant and nod at Tim, but when I get to Alex, I only stare.

Alex. The Alex.

No, no it can't be. His hair is shorter, his skin smooth and shaven. He's got on a green button-up, left open at the collar, which brings out the intense emerald shade of his eyes.

There's something different. The contour of his lips, the line of his nose. It's almost him, but not quite.

And he's staring back at me. Does he know who I am? No, that's silly. It's not really him. Not Alex Thorton-Hawke, the Duke of Harkshury. Just Alex, the twenty-first-century guy standing in front of me. In a nightclub. In real life.

Mindy jabs me with her elbow. "This is—"

"Callie," I say, standing and reaching my hand out. "My name is Callie."

It feels so good to say that. To be me. I grin involuntarily at the realization.

He smiles and shakes it. "Hey."

For a second neither of us says anything else. We just keep shaking hands and staring at each other. My heart hammers out of control. I feel sweaty already.

But it's adrenaline. Excitement. I'm not terrified anymore. Not of Angela, not of Alex. I can do this.

"Do you want to dance?" I ask. Did I really just say that out loud? That couldn't have been me. That was someone else.

"Huh?" He can't hear me over the music.

"Do you want to dance?" I say, louder this time, with a little more conviction. For emphasis, I nod my head toward the floor. I'm really doing this.

"Yeah." I'm not sure I've heard him correctly, but then he grabs my hand and leads me away, and I risk a glance back at the group.

They're just staring. For once in my life, I've upstaged them. I grin back and then turn my attention to Alex. I've thought about getting close to him for a month.

I'm about to get my chance.