All Chapters of My Idol Lives Next Door (And He's Pretending to Hate Me): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

"Rule one," Elara announced. "Nobody dies." Three men stood in the living room in a crooked line, wearing the expressions of people about to have a tooth pulled. The furniture had been shoved against the walls. A speaker sat on the piano. Elara leaned on the silver-handled cane from the night before and tried to look like a professional. "This is a waltz. It has three beats. One-two-three. One-two-three. Even Kai can count to three." "I can count to *infinity,*" said Kai. "Then start with three." Adrian had come straight from the office, still in his suit, with the stiff patience of a man attending a hostile negotiation. Julian had come in scrubs, apologizing to the room in general. Lyra sat on the sofa with a cushion in her lap, clearly there for the entertainment. "Partners," Elara said. "Julian, with Kai. Adrian..." "No." "I haven't finished." "I'm not dancing with Julian." "I was going to say Lyra." The silence that followed was brief and excruciating. Lyra stopped smi

Elara decided to be sensible about the dress. "I'll pay it back," she told the mirror at six the next morning, with the blue gown hanging on the wardrobe door like a very expensive dare. "Every penny. In installments. For the rest of my life, if necessary." The gown did not answer. It simply gleamed. She asked at breakfast, because she was a professional. "Did anyone buy me a dress?" Julian looked up from his toast, genuinely puzzled. "A dress?" "Shoes. Jewelry. A tiny silver bag." "I buy medical supplies," said Julian. "I would not know where to begin with a tiny silver bag." "I buy *games,*" said Kai, "and, once, a very bad hat." Adrian did not lift his eyes from his tablet. "Whoever it was has taste," he said, which was the nicest thing he had ever said in her presence, and also no answer at all. Lyra only smiled into her tea. She had been smiling like that ever since the boutique. --- The tailor arrived at ten, with two assistants and eleven garment bags. "Mr. Hale wi

The ballroom held a thousand candles and, Elara guessed, about four hundred people who had never once worried about rent. She stood at the top of the grand staircase in the midnight-blue gown, her fingers tight on the silver clutch. The crystals at her collar caught the light. Her ankle felt strong, the low-heeled slippers were soft as gloves, and her heart was beating like a drum. "Breathe," said Lyra, at her elbow, a vision in moonlight silver. "You look like a queen." "I look like a girl who's about to trip." "Then trip beautifully." Below them, the orchestra began to play, and the whole room turned. The four cousins had entered together, as promised. Adrian in front, in black, cold and flawless. Julian beside him, graceful and slightly pink. Kai, in a tie he kept tugging, muttering, "I hate this, I hate this, I hate this." And behind them, a half-step apart, the fourth young master, in a black suit and a black mask, his eyes sweeping the crowd as if daring someone to look ba

The lights went out, and the ballroom gasped. For one dizzy second, the whole room was black. Then the thousand candles that lined the walls and tables flickered back into focus, and four hundred faces glowed gold. A murmur of delighted laughter rippled through the crowd. The orchestra faltered, then played on, softer. Elara stood among the white roses with her glass forgotten in her hand. "Power cut," someone whispered. "The chandeliers have gone." "It's wonderful," said a woman nearby. "It looks like a fairy tale." In the middle of the floor, in the warm trembling light, Adrian's hand was still held out. Lyra's fingers hovered an inch from his. Neither of them had moved, and neither of them seemed to know that the room had changed. Then Lyra laid her hand in his. The orchestra, as if it had been waiting, slid into a slow waltz. Adrian drew her into the open space at the center of the floor, and the crowd drew back to make room. Elara forgot to breathe. He did not count. Sh

By morning, there were forty people at the gate. Elara counted them from her bedroom window, one hand holding the curtain open an inch. Girls with phones. Two men with long lenses. A teenager holding a handwritten sign that said *MASKED HALE, MARRY ME*, which seemed ambitious for someone who had only seen him from behind. "They found the address," Kai announced from her doorway, delighted. "A fan account traced it from the staircase photo. Isn't that terrifying? I love it." "This is *not* funny." "It's a little funny. One of them brought a cake." "Why would they bring a cake?" "For the mask guy. It says *Welcome Back.*" He frowned. "Back from what?" Elara let the curtain fall. "From being rude, probably." Julian appeared behind him, in his coat, with his bag. "The hospital entrance is clear, but I'd avoid the front gate. Someone has already tried to climb it." "I have rehearsal in forty minutes." "Then you will need a plan." "I have a plan," said Kai. "It involves a laundr