“Why don’t you break the engagement?” I ask softly.
Trixie looks up at the ceiling, blinking rapidly. I feel bad for bringing this up, ruining the lighter vibes we were rocking only moments before. But Trixie has been my best friend here even though I can tell she is hiding things, and I guess I want her to open up to me.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s a weird situation for us all. But no one knows, and I want to keep it that way.”
“I haven’t told a soul. But if you want out, I will help. I bet even Corbin and the twins would help.”
“No.” Her urgency causes me to back up in my seat a bit. “No. I don’t want their help. I can’t have their help.”
“Because of Bodhi?” I ask.
And she stops, looking me in the eyes. She doesn’t speak, but a nod confirms it.
“Yes. I don’t want him to know until the last possible moment.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want him to do anything rash.”
“So, you know he still cares about you?”
“Yes, and I still care for him.”
This is some star-crossed lovers, Romeo and Juliet shit. My heart breaks for Trixie.
“But we can’t be together, and that’s final.”
I nod, dropping it for now, but I have a feeling that, one day, this will all blow up in their faces, and I’m going to be there to help pick up the pieces, for both their sakes.
“When is Lawson getting here?” I change the topic, asking about her date, as I close my eyes for her to apply my eye shadow. The brush makes my eyes twitch each time it lands on my eyelids.
“Eight thirty,” she says, and my eyes shoot open. “Shit, close your eyes.”
“Sorry,” I say, cringing. “But doesn’t the dance start at eight?”
“No one arrives on time,” she says and then stops. “Haven’t you been to a school dance before?”
“No. I never went to the ones at my old high school.”
“Oh my gosh, this is so exciting! Your first dance,” she squeals again.
I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Then, I frown when I remember that the boy I wish were taking me isn’t.
“Here, you do your mascara. I don’t want to poke you in the eye.” She hands me a disposable mascara wand, and I look at her, confused. “I’m going through a phase. I have a whole kit of makeup stuff.”
“Lucky for me,” I say as I look at myself in the mirror. “You do amazing work.” I inspect my eye shadow up close, how she blended it to perfection and how it highlights my eyes with the smoky shading. “I told Peter to come at seven fifty.”
“Don’t worry; he won’t come that early,” she says, turning my face back to her once I’ve put my mascara on. “Okay, let’s do your hair, and then I’ll apply lipstick.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Trixie works on drying and curling my hair, giving me old-Hollywood glamour waves that fall gently down over my shoulders, and once I’m standing in my emerald-green dress, I can’t help but stare at myself in the mirror every five seconds.
“You are a fucking vision,” Trixie says, standing next to me in her blue cocktail-length dress, which shows off her toned legs. “Corbin’s going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
My heart clenches at the thought of having to face him.
What if he asked someone else to the dance in the last week? In my head, I know I’m being silly, but my heart still hurts.
“Yeah, maybe.”
A knock on the door disrupts us, and Trixie bounds over to open it. It’s her date, and I turn back to the mirror, smoothing my hands over my dress.
“Hey, do you want me to wait with you?” Trixie asks.
I glance at my phone, seeing that it’s already eight thirty-five and Peter still hasn’t shown up. I think about texting him, but I don’t want to seem too eager.
“No, I don’t want to keep you,” I say, turning around and grabbing my small clutch. I slip my phone and lip gloss inside. “I’ll walk out with you.”
We make it to the front steps, and I look around, noting the girls in dresses, clutching the arms of their dates. Laughter rings out across the air, but I purse my lips, frustration brewing.
I checked my messages earlier and read the two that Corbin sent, but I never replied. I refuse now for him to be right. I don’t want to concede defeat.
My mind makes excuses for Peter.
He got hung up, or maybe he spilled something on his tux and had to wash it.
I don’t know. But what I do know now is, he isn’t standing out here, waiting for me. And I feel so stupid, dressed up in this gown with nothing to show for it.
“Have you tried to text him?” Trixie asks, her date standing awkwardly by her side, looking like he’s trying not to listen to us. “Do you know anything, Lawson?” She turns to him, and I swear he wants to run.
I know he is in the crowd that hangs out with Peter. I don’t know why I didn’t think to ask him first.
“Um, yeah, no.” He looks up at me and then quickly glances away.
“What does that mean?” Trixie prods.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “I …” he starts.
“Spit it out,” Trixie says between clenched teeth.
“I think he’s taking Barron’s sister. I can’t remember her name. She’s, like, two grades below us.”
He looks so uncomfortable, and I start to feel bad until I remember that he knew this and didn’t tell me. And we’ve been waiting for a while.
“God, I’m such an idiot. Corbin was right.”
“Corbin?” Trixie asks, wrinkling up her nose as if she tasted something nasty.
“Yeah. He tried to warn me, but I didn’t want to listen.”
I go to rub my eyes, but Trixie slaps my hand away.
“Don’t you dare. I worked hard on that.” She reaches for my hand and smooths her voice out, softly saying, “Go with us. We’ll have fun, I promise.”
I shake my head, feeling the tears well in my eyes. “I’m going to go up and get ready for bed.”
I hear laughter from around the corner, getting louder as someone approaches, and glance over, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Peter is standing there, a gorgeous girl on his arm, and he’s videoing me. His crew of people are laughing and not trying to hide it.
I snap.
Stalking forward, I launch both hands at his chest, pushing him back. Hard. The girl clutching his arm falls sideways, only managing to catch herself at the last moment to stay upright.
“How dare you!” I scream.
I realize he’s still holding his phone, and I seize it, throwing it against the asphalt below us. The screen shatters, and Peter screeches at me as he steps up, getting in my face.
“You’re going to pay for that,” he yells, his spit landing on my cheek, and he bends over to pick it up.
I know I’m being childish, but I’m so angry.
“Make me, asshole,” I yell back.
He raises a hand to push me back, but before he can make contact, we are pulled apart. Trixie’s hand grips my upper arm, and I look over, meeting Brock’s intense gaze as he firmly holds on to Peter.