by Cameron Lund
It’s not a race, Andrew said, and he’s right.
Except right now, as I careen out of the elevator and run through the lobby to find him, it kind of is.
THIRTY-THREE
I DIAL ANDREW’S number, but he doesn’t answer. Either he’s still in the ballroom and the music is too loud, or he’s with Danielle and he’s ignoring me. When I run through the double oak doors, past the fallen cardboard waves and the broken bubble machine, I realize the ballroom is mostly empty. I might be too late.
There are a few teachers standing over by the DJ booth, helping put everything away, some couples sitting down at the tables, their shoes in their hands. Abby Feliciano is on the side of the stage, crying about something. Jarrod Price is at the buffet table, picking at a tray of chicken. But that’s it. I don’t see any of my friends.
I check my phone. It’s 11:30. It makes sense that most people would have left.
I turn around and head back to the lobby, calling Andrew once more for good measure as I approach the front desk. Again, he doesn’t answer.
“I need some information about one of the guests here,” I say to the concierge.
He’s a middle-aged guy, purple bags under his eyes, and he looks at me with a blank, uninterested expression. “We don’t give out any information about guests.”
“I just need the room number,” I explain. “My friends are staying in one of the rooms and I can’t find them.”
“Are you a relative?”
“No, but—” I say, and he stops me.
“Then I can’t give you anything.”
“I’m basically a relative,” I say, knowing he won’t understand, that he doesn’t know the intricacies of the Reed and Collins families: our history. “It’s an emergency,” I say again. “Please.”
“A prom emergency?” he asks, raising an eyebrow and looking me up and down.
This isn’t how this is supposed to work. In movies, once you realize you’re in love, you just hop in a taxi and race through traffic and get to the airport right in time—the power of true love and all that. I’m not supposed to be held up by a concierge. What if I don’t get ahold of him at all? Or worse, what if I find him and it doesn’t go the way I’m hoping, praying, that it does? I know he might love Danielle, that he might still want to be with her and I could be interrupting. But our friendship has already been ruined. If there’s any chance at all he might feel the same way that I do, I have to tell him. It’s what a Gryffindor would do.
I spin away, heading back in the direction of the elevators. Fine. If no one will tell me any of the information I need, I’ll just have to find him myself.
The elevator doors ding open in front of me. There are twelve floors—twelve shiny gold buttons taunting me. He could be on any of them. I curse myself for not checking ahead of time where they were staying, for trying to act like I didn’t care, as if asking any questions might give away my feelings. The elevator gets impatient with me and the doors close again and then reopen, reminding me I’m supposed to push a button or get the hell out. I sigh and go back into the hallway. If only there were some way to get him to leave the room—to force him to come back downstairs and away from Danielle. But there’s not really anything that could possibly pull any teenage boy away from sex, especially sex with Danielle Oliver; probably only threat of death or fire.
And then it hits me, the idea so absurd I almost choke.
I look up at the wall in front of me, the beautiful filigreed wallpaper, the dark wooden beams crisscrossing just below the ceiling, and there it is, a little red box above my head with a white lever, black words printed across it: PULL DOWN IN CASE OF EMERGENCY. In case of emergency. Probably not what they had in mind, but an emergency all the same.
So I pull down.
The air around me shifts and stills, and I stop breathing, listening only to the steady beating of my heart in my chest—and then like a sleeping dragon roused from its slumber, the building roars to life. All around me alarms start wailing, high pitched and screeching, and when I run back into the lobby, everything is chaos.
“Everyone outside!” the concierge is shouting. “This is not a drill.”
All the teachers have come back out of the ballroom, ushering students outside through the lobby. Jarrod Price runs by me with the entire tray full of chicken. Mr. Harrison looks pale, his face drawn, and I feel a rush of guilt that I’m the one who did this.
Sophie Piznarski is by the concierge desk, holding her shoes in one hand, and when she notices me, she hurls herself toward me. “Keely! What’s happening? Is there a real fire?”
“Have you seen Andrew?” I ask her, which I realize is not a sensible response.
“What?” she asks, and suddenly her voice is high and wavering like she might cry. “Is he okay?”
“There’s no fire,” I say quickly, scanning the area behind her. People are rushing down the main staircase. Jason Ryder slides down the banister, laughing, and I can tell he’s drunk. Ava is with him, wearing his suit jacket over her bra, her purple hair all over the place.
“I have to go,” I say to Sophie, booking it over to Ava. “There’s no fire!” I call out again behind my back, hoping she’ll calm down. “Ava!” I almost crash into her.
“Everybody outside!” Mr. Harrison says, herding us toward the front doors. The crowd around us is growing and we get pushed through. The night air is warm and wet and things feel calmer now that the sound of the siren has muffled. I scan everywhere for Andrew but there are too many people and it’s too dark.
We spot Chase standing in the crowd and head over to him.
“Dude!” Ryder says. “Prom was so lit it caught on fire!”
“Were you smoking in your room?” Chase says, and Ryder grins.
“Is everyone okay?” Ava shouts.
“Everyone’s fine,” I shout back. “I pulled the alarm.”
They all gawk at me.
“What?” Chase asks. “Why?”
“Collins doesn’t break rules,” Ryder sputters to Chase, talking about me like I’m not even here.
“Where’s Danielle?” I turn to Ava. “Do you know what room she was in?”
“Is she trapped?” Ava asks, her eyes going big.
“She’s fine!” I say. “There’s no fire.” The crowd around us is growing and I know Andrew has to be out here somewhere, but I can’t see him through the mass of bodies. “What room were Danielle and Andrew in?”
“I can’t remember,” Ava says. “I can text her and . . .” She pulls open her purse and starts to dig through and then stops mid-sentence. “I forgot our phones broke when we fell in the lake. Sorry.”
“509,” Chase says all of a sudden.
“What?” I turn my attention back to him.
“Room 509, fifth floor,” he says. “She told me earlier. When we were dancing.” He looks slightly guilty. “It was like . . . almost like she wanted me to remember the room. She said it was her favorite number.”
“509 isn’t her favorite number,” Ava says.
“509 isn’t anyone’s favorite number,” I say.
And then Ava puts her hands on her hips. “Come on, guys, really? Danielle told you her room number because she wanted you to come hang out. Danielle and Andrew don’t even like each other. You’re all such idiots.” She flips some purple hair behind her shoulder.
We all look at each other for a few seconds and a wave of understanding passes through us. For the first time everything is so clear, all the pieces finally fit into their rightful places.
“I have to go back inside,” I say, motioning toward the door. “I have to find Andrew.”
And then I turn around and run back through the front doors.
“She’s running back into a burning building for him!” Ava shouts behind me. “It’s true love!”
And then I hear Chase.
“There’s no fire.” And then Ryder. “Where’s that other dude?”
I push my way past the two gangly teenage bellhops who are trying to guard the front doors.
“You’re not allowed back in the building!” one of them shouts as I pass, but I ignore him and keep running. Now I know where I have to go. Stairs. Five flights up. The concierge is in the middle of the lobby, directing people toward the doors, and when he sees me run past, we lock eyes and he knows I’m the one who pulled the alarm. It’s like he doesn’t know I’m Keely Collins, that pulling alarms isn’t in my nature. He thinks I’m someone else, someone wilder and freer and more alive, and I kind of like it.
I run as fast as I can toward the back stairwell, already feeling a cramp in my side. I hear footsteps behind me and turn, expecting to see the concierge, but I’m surprised to see Chase right behind me.
“I can’t let you be the only hero,” he says, grinning. “Maybe now she’ll forgive me.”
We tumble together through a swinging door.
“Wait,” I say. “We should split up. I take these stairs and you take the ones on the other side.” He nods and heads in the other direction, saluting before he disappears back through the swinging door. “Go get your girl!” I call after him.
Then I begin to climb. This is slower going, because the stairs are old and twisty. Finally I make it to the fifth floor, and I push open the door into the hallway. It’s empty—only flashing lights and blaring alarms. I let myself lean against the wall for a minute to catch my breath. If he’s not on five, I should just go back outside. I’ll find him eventually, once the alarm shuts off and the chaos dies down. I heave myself off the wall and head back to the stairs.
Then there he is at the other end of the hallway.
“Collins!” he shouts over the sound of the siren. “We have to get out of here!”
“Where’s Danielle?” I ask, expecting her to come around the corner behind him.
“She went outside,” he says. “I came up here to find you. Ava said you went back to the fifth floor. There’s a fire!” He lunges forward to grab my hand, like he’ll be able to pull me to safety.
“It’s okay!” I shout back. I let him take my hand and I link our fingers together. “There’s no fire!”
“What?” he asks, and I’m not sure if he can’t hear me or if he’s just confused about what I said.
“There’s no fire!” I repeat. “I pulled the alarm.”
He’s still running down the hallway toward the back stairwell, pulling me along behind him. And then he stops suddenly and I crash into his back.
“You pulled the alarm? Why the hell would you p—”
“You came back for me,” I interrupt.
“Of course I came back for you,” he says.
And then before he can finish, before I can think it through, I kiss him. It must catch him off guard because it takes about three seconds before he reacts, but then he kisses me back, pulling me tight against his chest, wrapping his arms around me. The sirens must still be wailing but I can’t hear them because all I can hear is the heavy thudding of my heart. I take a few steps forward, pushing him until his back hits the wall, and then I press him into it. He brings a hand up into my hair and pulls me closer. We kiss for what feels like forever, and I don’t mind, because I could probably keep on kissing him for the rest of my life. When we have to part for air, I pull back and see his eyes flutter open.
“What are you doing?” he asks. Our faces are so close together now that we don’t have to shout anymore. I can hear him over the alarm, can feel his lips brush against mine as he asks the question. “Why did you pull the alarm?”
“I needed to find you,” I say, tightening my hold around his waist, like now that I have him, I won’t let him go. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He grins and I feel his smile against mine. “That’s my line.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s true. I was with Dean and—”
At the sound of Dean’s name, Andrew’s head jerks up and away from me, looking in both directions down the hallway. “Did he hurt you? Where is he?”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Everything’s fine. But I was with him and I just . . . I wanted it to be you. I really wanted him to be you. I think, I mean, the thing is . . .” I can’t believe how hard it is to get the words out, even now.
“Say it,” he says, and he kisses me again quickly, the hope sparkling in his eyes giving me courage. “Come on, Keely, say it.”
“Iloveyoumorethanpizza,” I say, the words tumbling out of me so quickly they blend together. “I love you more than pizza,” I repeat, slower this time. “I got your note. Is it true?” I feel like I can’t breathe.
“Are you kidding?” he says. “Keely, I’m so stupidly in love with you.” He leans closer to me so our noses are touching. “I’ve been in love with you since middle school.”
For the first time in my life, I feel really and truly alive. I kiss him again, and it’s just the two of us, the only two people in the entire world. But after a minute, I pull away, remembering that’s not true.
“But you love Danielle,” I say. “You told me. You gave her that valentine.”
“Do you know how many times you’ve turned me down?” he asks, shaking his head. “How many times I started to tell you the truth and you made some joke as if dating me was the most ridiculous thing in the world?” I want to disagree with him, but I know it’s true. “So I started saying it before you could say it first. If I could convince myself it was true—if I could agree it was ridiculous, then maybe I could get over you.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say.
“I made that valentine for you, you know, back in middle school. I was going to tell you how I felt. But then you made another stupid comment like you didn’t like me, and I chickened out. I gave it to Danielle because that’s what everyone else was doing.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I’ve been such an idiot.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You have.” He’s grinning and I whack him on the shoulder. “But so have I.” He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “When you asked me who I was in love with, I thought you knew it was you. I thought you were trying to tell me you loved me back. But then you turned me down again, and I couldn’t handle it. I told you it was Danielle, because it was easy. I knew you would hate it. And then I felt so stupid and I didn’t know how to fix it. I wrote you that card on your birthday, and you never even said anything.”
“I didn’t see it!” I say.
“I should have just said something to you,” he says. “Could have saved us so much time.”
“You’re right. We’re both idiots.”
I kiss him again.
“You’re sure there’s no fire?” he asks.
“No fire.”
“Good.” He grabs my waist and flips us so that my back is against the wall, then presses me into it, covering my body with his.
“Hey!” A voice shouts from down the hall, and Andrew pulls away from me to turn and look. I miss the feel of his lips on mine immediately, and I wonder if every time we’re not kissing for the rest of my life I’ll be missing him. “Hey, there she is!” It’s the concierge from the front desk, running toward us. And with him is Andrew’s uncle Leroy, dressed in his full fireman uniform.
Before I can think about it, I grab Andrew’s hand and start running down the other end of the hallway, pulling him along behind me. I throw open the door to the back stairwell and we barrel through it and keep running, trying hard not to fall down the stairs and kill ourselves. When we get down to the main level we keep running, turning random corners, tearing down hallways until we’ve lost them. There are so many doors that I wonder if even the concierge knows every hidden nook and cranny. The alarm is still blaring around us, lights flashing.
“In here!” Andrew sa
ys, taking a sharp left and then opening a door to a storage room under the stairs. I follow him in and then he shuts the door behind us and immediately, the sound of the siren is cut off. It’s dark in here, almost pitch-black, and I should be worried about spiders or rats or something, but I’m not. Because Andrew’s arms are around me and then we’re kissing again and he loves me and that’s all that matters.
“I’m so losing my job for this,” Andrew says, his smile against mine.
“It’s worth it,” I whisper.
“Oh, it’s so worth it.” He kisses me again and I reach up and undo his tie just enough so that I can pull open the buttons of his shirt. He reaches behind me and I can feel him struggling with the zipper of my prom dress. I help guide his hand and pull the zipper down, rolling the dress off my body. Reaching out, I undo his belt and then he zips down his fly, the sound of it loud in the quiet room. I can’t see him but I can feel him, can feel his hands as they slide my underwear down over my hips, as they touch me in a place that’s never been touched before. I gasp as he moves his fingers there, reaching my own hands into his boxers and touching him.
I realize suddenly that this is what it’s supposed to feel like—this ache between my legs, this urgent need in my chest, the feeling in my stomach like bubbling champagne. This was how I never felt with Dean, upstairs in that beautiful suite, on the canopy bed, where everything was supposed to be perfect.
I reach into my purse and pull out the condom—the one I had planned to use earlier. Fumbling, I hand it to him in the dark and listen as he rips it open and slides it on.
“Are you sure?” he asks, his whisper tickling my ear.
“Yes,” I say, and I am. I’m suddenly so sure that I might die if he doesn’t continue.
“I love you so much,” he whispers against my mouth.
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
And so I lose my virginity on prom night, and it isn’t perfect, because how could I expect it to be? Here’s what I’ve realized about moments: you can’t plan for them. The best ones are always the ones that take you by surprise.