“So, what do you want to do? Hang out here or go somewhere?” I ignore the ache.
“I don’t care—whatever you want. I’m just glad you’re hanging out with me. And not sick, tired, or maybe blowing me off. I almost thought I was going to take Justin Conner to Prom. You had me worried.”
“Yeah well …”
“Yeah well, what?” Sean pats the space next to him on my bed.
“Scoot over.” I sit, leaning up against the headboard next to him, extending my legs, and feeling a warm blaze as his thigh brushes against mine. “It’s silver.”
“What?”
“My dress. It’s silver.”
“Oh. Okay. I guess we’re back to talking about your dress.
“Well, supposedly it’s an important detail. Kallie says you’re s’posed to match it to some of your tux accessories and the corsage.”
“Oh, right. My mom asked me about that. Hey, stop trying to distract me from the real issue here. Why haven’t you wanted to hang out? I don’t think any of our phone conversations lately have been longer than five minutes.”
I drum my fingers on my knee. “I’ve been lame, I know. To be honest …” As if I can really be honest. Tell him I’ve spent the last two weeks since Maisey’s wake beating myself up with worry, anxiety, and regrets. How I’m not sure I deserve to be with someone so great, getting ready for Prom when all this other fucked up stuff is buzzing in my head. Tell him how Maisey’s eyes have been haunting me, staring, lifeless and bitter. Ask him to read me the letter she wrote that’s still hiding, unread, in the pillowcase just inches away from him. Or tell him that because of all this, I feel like I want him even more than I’d care to admit. Tell him that I’m over my head, beyond crushed and crazy about him. That it’s something that means and feels more than I can explain as the warmest meltiest loveliest ball of good feelings swishing around my stomach, my brain, in my everything, everywhere and I’m not looking to get hurt in the end.
“You were saying? To be honest?” Sean smiles, waiting for me to fill the silence I’ve created and filled with tension.
“This whole Prom thing is getting mega stressful, that’s all. I guess I have a hard time knowing where I fit in. Because I don’t.”
“What do you mean, you don’t fit in? That doesn’t make sense. You have friends. Everyone likes you.”
“Everyone?”
“Except maybe Jane. Like she matters. But how does one fit in to Prom Court per se? Do you need bigger hair? Maybe if your eyes were brown instead of smoldering gray. Or if you drove a Mustang or an Audi? Don’t take this the wrong way, but none of this stuff is that serious.” He slides his hand over my thigh.
“Smoldering gray, huh? Now that you put it that way, I’m fine. Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Hughes.”
“Don’t boss me, Mills. And hey, if it means anything, I missed you.”
“It does mean something.” He smiles shyly, his eyes dipping from my gaze to our now-clasped hands. Some of the tension in my shoulders releases.
“I better open that door before you get any ideas.” I lean in to kiss him quickly but stop to inhale where his neck and shoulder meet. He turns to meet my mouth. My lips rest on his, and the kiss is gentle and intense. With a pained, slow exhale, I pull away, then grab a pillow and hit him in the side. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get something to eat.” As if food could satiate me.
“Probably a good idea.” He tosses the pillow to the side and kisses the bottom of my ear.
“Do you wear cologne?” I ask.
“No, should I?” His low voice at my ear sends a tiny shiver down my neck and down to like, everywhere.
“I just love how—” I lean back into him. “The way you smell, it’s good. I could just …” I inhale and exhale breathing into his neck, beneath his ear.
“It’s soap. Sandalwood.” He pulls back ever so slightly, holding my gaze, “Yeah we better get something to eat.”
My breath hitches. “Good idea.” Obviously we are on the same page.
****
“A-ha. I knew something was up” I say. “This place should be called 21/7. Look, it’s closed from three until five in the morning.” I point to the diner’s business hours sign as Sean and I hover behind a group of other high school kids waiting to be seated.
“I better talk to the manager about this. This place is a sham. Let’s leave.” Sean turns pretending to leave.
I laugh but then see something that makes me want to follow through. Molly and Jane. Strutting through the parking lot hand in hand. Jane’s perfectly slicked back ponytail is topped off with a sparkly tiara. Seriously.
“Great.” Here comes Beauty and the Barf.
Sean follows my gaze and spots them. “Look, our colleagues. Let’s dodge ’em.” Sean weaves his way to the hostess stand. “Two for a booth, please. If you have one.”