I shake my head. “Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”
“Okay, if you say so.” We sit in awkward, stilted silence. Renner finally deflates, exasperated. “You never even gave me a chance to explain. You just ran out—”
I hold my hand out to stop him. “Why are you doing this? You know I like Clay. Why can’t you just let me be happy for once instead of always trying to ruin everything?” It comes out louder than intended, catching Andie’s and Kassie’s attention in the front of the limo.
I can see the pity in his face. The downturn of his lips. The sad, dopey eyes. Before he can respond, Andie plops herself smack between us, half on my lap and half on Renner’s.
I take this as my cue to move and snag her previous spot next to Kassie.
“Everything good with you and J. T.?” she asks pointedly, fluffing her hair in her compact mirror.
I flash her a fake smile, willing Renner to disappear into a cloud of dust. “When are things ever good between us?”
“Don’t let him get to you,” she warns.
“Oh, I won’t,” I declare.
J. T. Renner may have ruined freshman homecoming, but he won’t ruin my prom.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Clay ditches me the moment we enter prom. I don’t blame him, given I’m in full-blown student council mode, ensuring everything and everyone is where they’re supposed to be. Admittedly, it’s not the fairy-tale night I envisioned with him.
Though I saw the gym earlier today, it’s an entirely different experience at night, with the lights down, the candles lit, and everyone dressed up. It’s an underwater oasis. The uplighting really does wonders for the ambiance, casting blue and pink rays that appear to be moving, like water. Even the DJ’s strobe lights make the seaweed look like it’s swaying in the water. It may even be nicer than the Mardi Gras prom from the future. Maybe Renner was right about the theme, after all.
At most dances, it takes a while for the dance floor to fill. But it’s already packed by the time we arrive. Everyone is circled around Patrick Stone, MHS’s resident break-dancer, who’s currently spinning on his head.
I’m in hot pursuit of a missing centerpiece when Nori pulls me onto the dance floor. She’s always fun to dance with, mostly because she embodies the phrase “dance like no one’s watching.”
By the third song, Kassie and Andie join us. Despite my weird feelings toward Andie, I soak in the moment. After four years, this is the last time we’ll all be together like this. There won’t be another high school dance.
A melancholy slow song fills the air, an abrupt shift. The lights dim and everyone rushes off to find their dates. I catch myself smiling, watching Nori and Tayshia laugh maniacally at something as they twirl each other. Meanwhile, Ollie is whispering sweet nothings into Kassie’s ear. My heart flutters, seeing my friends so happy. What it must be like to find love like that in high school.
I scan the dance floor filled with closely entwined couples and catch Clay in my peripheral vision. He’s hanging out near the bleachers in what appears to be animated conversation with his friend. The last thing I want to do is force him to dance with me when he’s already shown zero interest in dancing—and also as my prom date.
“Hey, having fun?” Clay asks as I approach.
I shrug. “I’d probably have more fun if my date was dancing with me.” I try to say it casually.
“All right. Let’s go,” he says, monotone.
I place my hands on his shoulders. His fall to my waist, and we dance like preteens allowing space for the Holy Spirit for the last half of the song, before a fast one begins. I can’t help comparing dancing with Real Clay to Adult Renner. But it’s just not the same.
“So, um, thanks for being my date,” I tell him, relieved when the song ends and I can pull away.
He scratches his head. “For sure. Though I kinda think you probably would have preferred to go with someone else.”
“What?” I say, jaw slackening in denial.
He laughs over the music, raising a brow knowingly. “J. T.”
“Renner? No. Why would you say that?”
“Dunno. Call it intuition, I guess? Looked like you had a pretty tense conversation in the limo. And you both couldn’t stop staring at each other at Ollie’s.”
I blink, mortified. “I definitely wasn’t staring at Renner.”
“It’s okay, Char. Really. I’m not mad.” He gives me a look as if to say, The jig is up. It’s cool.
Unable to admit it, I press my hands over my face. “I’m sorry, Clay. I don’t know what to say. I’ve had a crush on you for literally ever and—” I don’t know where my courage comes from. Maybe it’s the fact that I probably won’t see him again after we leave high school. And maybe it’s because I’m starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness I feel around him isn’t solely about nerves like I’ve always thought. Maybe it’s because we simply don’t have a spark between us.
“Yeah. I kind of got that impression. I’ve always wondered why you didn’t just talk to me.”
I hide my face. “I’m sorry. I just always felt awkward, I guess? Even today when you picked me up, you were perfect and I just . . . I don’t know. I didn’t feel anything,” I admit.
He looks a little relieved when I say it. “It’s fine, Charlotte. I totally agree. Friends?”
I nod. “Friends.”
I wander out to the hallway for some air, stopping to take my heels off.
The painted brick wall of last year’s graduating class catches my eye as I unfasten the buckle on the strap. The bricks remind me I still have to write the time capsule letter to myself for graduation next week.
In only a few days, I’ll be saying goodbye to this school and these people forever. Mom once described high school as a “trip”—a passage of time that feels tediously slow, but also lightning fast. After chasing perfect grades, the next homework assignment, the next school event, it’s hard to believe all those mini goalposts have culminated in four whole years.
As I amble barefoot to my locker, the click of dress shoes against tiles echoes behind me.
It’s Renner. He’s taken his suit jacket off, as well as his tie, and he’s rolled his sleeves to his forearms. The disheveled-business-intern look is annoyingly sexy.
When I turn around, he clears his throat and says, “I want you to be happy.”
I triple blink and lean closer to ensure I’ve heard him correctly.
He continues. “In the limo, you asked why I can’t let you be happy. All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy.”
I lower my chin, unable to compute. The sincerity of his voice doesn’t match my recollection. “Then why would you kiss me if you had a date to prom already? What was your plan? To outdo freshman homecoming or something? To hook up with me and then take another girl to prom?”
Red-faced, he runs his hands down both cheeks. “No! For Christ’s sake, Char. Stop being your stubborn-ass self for one second and listen to me.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “I’m listening.”
He levels me with his gaze. “You’re the only person I ever wanted to take to prom. The only one.”
“Since when?”
“The first day of school.”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
He runs his hands through his hair, the fluorescent light above casting a white glow over his face. “First period. Freshman year. I asked you for a pencil every single day as an excuse to talk to you.”
I squint at him, blinking slowly. “You did that just to talk to me?”
“You thought I actually lost every pencil you gave me?” he scoffs, nudging me aside to open his locker. He reaches into its depths and pulls out a bundle of my mechanical pencils. They’re tied together with a rubber band. I stare at them, breathless, as he places the bundle in my hand. “I kept them. Of course I kept them,” he tells me.
How is this even possible? How has he kept every single pencil all this time? “But—but what about homecoming?”
“I think we both already know the answer to that.”