“Wedgie?” she asks with a cocked eyebrow.
Her words bust my train of thought off rail. I burst out laughing. “Who says wedgie anymore?”
With her hair now up in a bun, her neck is exposed. A quarter-sized red mark grabs my eye. Holy hell. That’s a hickey. I don’t even remember doing that.
“Is that it, then?” she teases.
“No,” I cough.
“Uh-huh.”
I flip down her mirror, trying to suppress my smile. I should feel horrible about this too. But, in truth, it’s the first hickey I’ve given a girl. I’m kinda proud.
“Take a look at your neck.”
Lucy’s gasp is followed by a swat to my arm. “Justin!”
“Sorry.” I start pulling my hands through my hair, but stop midway. It’s such an odd nervous tick. It needs to stop. She’s examining the mark in the mirror. Crap, it’s huge. And it’s just going to get redder, right? Purple too?
I reach over, touching her arm. “Does it hurt?”
“Nah.” She shuts the mirror. “I didn’t notice it until you pointed it out. Don’t worry about it.”
“You have a game on Monday. How are you going to hide that?”
She smiles. “I was friends with Marissa for a long time. I’ve gotten many How-To-Hide-Hickey makeup tutorials. No biggie.”
Many tutorials? How many hickeys has she had?
She gets a cockeyed expression on her face, then bursts out in laughter again. “Zach and I kissed, but no hickeys. Don’t worry. This is my first,” she says with a wink.
Her first? I frickin’ rock!
“I stopped Zach before we got that far,” Lucy clarifies. “With you, I was lost in it all.”
I rub my jaw. “Ditto.”
She doesn’t say anything, just reaches over so we can hold hands again.
“Do you think Jen will be okay?”
I pause, thinking about how strong I know Jen is. Plus, back when we “dated” we spent tons of time alone at the picnic table during her lifeguard breaks, pretending to have “couple time” when really we were just checking out girls. Trish was her first girlfriend. There would be more.
“Long term, Jen will be fine. But right now? I don’t know.” I’ve never seen the fresh side of a breakup before.
“I can’t believe Trish dumped her,” Lucy says through a light breath.
“It’s so out of the blue. They always seemed so cool together.”
Lucy shakes her head. “Jen told me last week she thought Trish may break up with her. That she was pulling away.”
I bite my tongue. Jen should have told me this on the way to class. She used to tell me everything. What’s changed with her?… Or is it me? Maybe when Jen bolted from the car a few weeks ago all pissed off about how little time I was spending with Lucy, she was really talking about herself.
Shit. I did tell Jen I’d see her more after the campaign, but that ended a few weeks ago. I shouldn’t have made her wait. I should have made time for her. No matter how hard I try lately, something slips through the cracks. There never used to be cracks before Dad’s run for governor. No matter what I do, I can’t seem to hold everything together. Jackson could’ve pulled it off. I wish he was here to tell me how. Dad used to be a good example, but he’s taken on too much slime on the political front. He’s missing family dinners and mingling with people he used to have no respect for. I guess their open pocketbooks helped gain his respect again. He better calm down a bit and find himself. If he’s around Paul, he’s a man I don’t know.
I pull up Jen’s driveway and take a deep breath. “You ready?”
“Absolutely.”
***
Jen chokes back another wad of crud. Lucy hands her a Kleenex and whispers, “It’s going to be okay,” while stroking her hair.
“Not ready for a commitment? But we were together…dating! Isn’t that a commitment already?” Jen blows into the tissue as I shift in the chair across from her. I hold my tongue, thankful I’m wiser than Alex would be if he was here and not commenting on the superfluous amount of snot involved in a girl breakdown.
“I know,” Lucy says like a mother.
I reach out and squeeze Jen’s hand. Seriously, I suck at this. I take a deep breath before I throw myself out there. “There will be other girls, Jen,” I offer. More fish. More ice-cream flavors. That sort of thing. Lucy’s eyes pop wide. Uh oh, wrong thing to say. Jen’s chest heaves, followed with a sob of such depth that her ribs rattle.
Crap.
“Trish is it. I don’t want someone else,” she says through her snot-filled sob.
“I know,” Lucy says over and over again, patting her arm. “This sucks. I’m sorry this hurts so much.” Her words are like a blanket. I lean back, letting Lucy be the leader here. I’m out of my element. She nods to the place next to me, where Jen’s legs rest.
Right. I can do that.
I slide onto the couch, lifting Jen’s legs on my lap. I put my hands on her calves and Jen’s full-body sobs seem to lessen with my touch. Okay, this I’m used to. My hands know Jen. Not like sexually, but in a “hold me, protect me” way. I can do that.
Jen’s voice cracks. “She didn’t want to go with me to the winter formal. I told her we didn’t have to go. We didn’t have to come out together in that way. But finally she confessed it wasn’t that.” She takes a deep breath. “She loves me, but I’m just not her type.”
“Not her type? What the hell is wrong with her? Jen, you’re a total babe. Funny, smart, and killer hot.” The words fly out of my mouth. My hand flies over it, realizing that that confession may not be totally cool with Lucy.
But Lucy smiles at me and mouths, “Keep going.”
Okay. I take a deep breath. “Everything about you is awesome, Jen. Trish is crazy.”
Jen wipes the tears from her eyes. “You’re just saying that.”
“No,” I cough, remembering the first time I saw her from across the cafeteria. “I’m telling the truth.” I squeeze her calf lightly. “You know that. Come on, I followed you around like a puppy our freshman year, remember? Begging you to date me.”
She cracks a smile and my gut relaxes. “It took me a full year to say yes.”
Okay. This is working. I look to Lucy. How much does she want me to share?
Lucy nods for me to continue.
Okay then…
“You were gorgeous, kind, and composed. Still are. You’re one of the smartest girls I know, but you never shove it in anyone’s face.”
“I am?” She cocks her head to look at me.
“You know you are.”
“But you’re a guy.”
As if that totally discredits my ability to tell if she’s beautiful?
“I look at girls all the time. I know what I’m talking about.” Lucy tosses me a look. Okay, that might’ve been too far.
She turns Jen’s head up towards her, taking over. “Don’t worry. You’re totally hot to girls too. The most beautiful girl in school, no doubt. I’d be lining up to date you if, well…”
“You didn’t like dicks so much.” Jen forces out a laugh.
Lucy tosses her hand over her mouth as she chortles. “Right. That’s it.”
“Sorry, I’m all vag,” Jen says back with a slight shrug.
“Whoa!” I say. “You guys talk like that?”
Jen ignores me, instead swinging her legs off my lap and sitting up. “Okay. I can handle this.”
That’s all it took? A funny joke? I was expecting this to take hours. That wasn’t so bad.
“I can do this,” Jen says with that intense look of concentration she has before an exam. Her eyebrows are slightly turned in as she bites the corner of her lip. “Right. First thing on the list. Return the winter formal dress.” Jen storms from the room, getting right to her agenda.
How did she just swing from heartbreak to moving on so quickly?
“That was easier than I thought,” I whispered to Lucy.
“This is only
beginning. Hold up.”
“No, really. I know Jen, I think she’s fine. Once she’s concentrated on a to-do list, she’s set.”
She shakes her head, tracing a circle on my palm. “I know heartbreak. We’ve only hit the surface here. Trust me.”
“You know heartbreak?” Did she love Zach?
“It was a different type of heartbreak. Leaving basketball destroyed me.”
I squeeze her hand. We don’t talk about what happens on the court much. I’ve rarely seen her play. And when I do? My brain launches into must-make-out mode the moment she steps off the court.
And here I thought I was an in-tune boyfriend. I’m failing in every aspect.
“Are you glad you’re playing again?”
“Yup. Every time I’m back on the court, I feel like I’m flying. I’m very happy there.”
“How’s everything with Coach T?”
“He’s still a total jerk.” Of course. Why would that suddenly change?
Jen walks in then, dragging a big purple bag. “Here we go. Ready for the mall?”
Lucy folds her hands in her lap, just waiting. This is girl code for something. I hold my breath, not daring to move.
“Do you want to see it?” Jen offers. “I picked it out sophomore year. Perfect for the big senior winter formal, you know. I knew I had to have it when I saw it on the rack.” She laughs as she unzips the bag. “I didn’t even acknowledge I was gay back then. And,” she twirls with the dress against her body, “it still fits.”
Okay. What the hell is going on? Why is she so giddy?
She giggles as she opens up the bag, yanking out a pink shiny dress. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Lucy stands up to look. “The beading is beautiful. Love the silk. Great choice.”
“Yeah,” Jen says quietly and I stand up too. I’m supposed to, right? “No matter,” she says after a deep breath. “We’ll return it.”
Is she crazy? “Can you still return it? You bought it sophomore year, right? Craigslist will probably work best.”
Jen’s face pales.
Okay, clearly that was the wrong thing to say. Practicality is obviously not the correct route.
“Right,” Jen’s voice shakes. “I, umm…” She turns to Lucy. “Do you have your dress yet?” Lucy shakes her head. “Perfect.” She nods back toward me. “This dress will look great with Justin’s dark features.”
I want to point out that there’s no way Jen’s size two dress will fit Lucy’s curves. But I’m smarter than that. One girl will feel too skinny and the other fat. I’m not going there.
Jen sniffs again and her chest rattles. Oh crap. I reach for the Kleenex box. Here comes more snot.
“When I bought this dress, I picked it out because it compliments your features so well.” She tries to laugh. “Isn’t that funny? We’d only been dating a few months and I’d already planned the dress for our senior winter formal.” She shakes her head. “Ridiculous.”
Then the sob erupts.
Lucy steps forward, taking the dress from her hands. She holds it up next to me. “Jen, you’re right. This dress does look great with Justin.”
Is she serious? I eye Lucy. That thing will look like lingerie on her. My stomach warms. I take a slow breath to cool it off. Not the time to be picturing Lucy in something like that.
Lucy winks at me. “Yeah. This dress definitely belongs next to Justin. Since you can’t return it and this dress is way too nice to be Craigslisted, I think this dress needs to go to the dance with him.”
Jen’s lips twitch. “Good. I’m glad you’ll wear it. Glad it’ll…” tears stream down her face as she spits out the last words, “…be used.”
Lucy pulls her into a hug as she hands the dress back.
“Go to the dance with Justin, Jen. Wear your dress.”
“I couldn’t do that to you.” She sucks back more snot.
Lucy holds Jen’s shoulders, looking her in the eye. “How long have you been head of the counsel planning this dance?”
“Since sophomore year.”
“Right. And you’re the president of student council now, correct?”
“Yeah…”
“Jen, I refuse to let you miss this dance.”
I stand in awe, watching Lucy do what many girls wouldn’t dare: Give away their date to the biggest dance of the year. Prom’s an afterthought compared to this formal. To girls, winter formal means everything. They pretend it’s a freakin’ mini-wedding. Insanity.
I step forward, taking Jen’s hand. “Will you please go to winter formal with me?”
She sniffs, looking at Lucy. “Are you sure?”
Lucy smiles. “You’ve seen me try to dance. Really, you’ll be saving me, big time.”
“Are you sure, Justin?”
I smile, remembering how much fun we had at last year’s dance. And remembering that freshman fantasy of bringing Jen as my date for our senior year. The night was going to be epic. Now, I get that chance. But, it means I won’t get that epic night with Lucy. I was going to treat her like a queen, or let her have her Cinderella moment, or whatever girls look forward to at this stuff. This isn’t what I wanted. Lucy deserves that.
Lucy’s lip lifts, her eyebrows rise, waiting for me to say yes. Clearly, she wants Jen to come first with this. How did I land such an amazing girl? Sacrificing so much to make her friend happy. To make everything okay.
“I’d love to walk you down that grand aisle, Jen. Will you come with me?”
“Yeah.” She sniffs. “Okay.” She reaches out, pulling me into a hug, whispering into my neck. “You’ve always been my protector. I couldn’t go with anyone else.”
“I’ll always be there,” I offer.
Lucy hangs the dress back up in the bag. Hands down, she’s the most amazing girl I’ve ever met.
Chapter Thirteen
Lucy
I stand on my tiptoes, camera held above the crowd with the viewfinder on. Sweet, a straight shot down the aisle. This should do. At least, I hope Jen will think so. I had no idea parking would be so hard in St. Paul. There’s a snowstorm coming so I figured it’d be deserted, but it seemed as though everyone and their mom decided to come out to watch the grand march anyway.
Crackled audio of Clair De Lune blasts through the DJ’s speakers as the first junior class couple takes their position under the archway at the top of the aisle. Someone must be spacing the couples every five steps because the timing is awesome. With the strobe-light effect of all the flashing cameras, this really does feel like a wedding or a Hollywood event.
Finally, the juniors blend into the seniors. I wait for a glimpse of Jen’s pink dress.
Yellow, blue, bold pink, black…there. Pink and flowing. Her shoulders are relaxed, her smile bright. Good. She deserves this. My heart thumps as I allow my eyes to drift from Jen to Justin. But not just Justin. It’s Justin in a tux. He blows me away, the way the tux hugs his broad shoulders, just to nip in at the waist that I love to drape my arm around. My knees start to wobble, and suddenly I want to jump the rope and pull him close. Somehow, Justin in a tux makes him more intimate and exposed than I’ve ever seen him before.
My fingers remember to click as I ogle him, making sure to keep the camera angle just right. Who knew that all of Marissa’s camera instructions would actually come in handy and allow me to function on autopilot?
They take their time walking down the aisle, then make the turn in front of the crowd toward the dance floor. The crowd sighs with pleasure as they pass, her arm wrapped through his. So elegant.
“I knew they’d end up back together,” someone says.
“They’re the most perfect couple in the world. Look! Happy endings do happen. Glad Justin threw that Lucy chick out. I wonder if he’ll still do the reality show next fall if he’s dating Jennifer again?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. None of that’s true, but man it stings. What’s so bad about me? I move a few steps away from them, snapping a few more photos as Justin and Jen
disappear together onto the dance floor.
I force myself to stay firmly planted in my new spot so I can snag shots of Luke and Laura as well. I’m not running out of here until my friend duty is complete. But it’s hard to pay attention with that dark head of hair dancing in the crowd. Justin twirls Jen around and she laughs. He pulls her back in, wrapping her in a hug. He moves easily into another move and my jaw drops. He really can dance. Wow. I’m a stumbling fool on the dance floor. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t come with him.
Finally, Laura appears wearing the coral gown we picked out together in October. It’s stunning. The golden one I have hanging in my closet has a similar flow. We planned it that way, so we could do a stupid twirl dance that we made up in the dressing room together. I bite my lip, remembering I’d removed the tags. No big deal. I’ll wear it next year.
The crowd of observers has thinned a bit now. I step up closer to the red velvet rope that separates us common folk from the dancers. Soon the band will announce it’s time for the parents and friends to leave so the dinner can start. Laura winks at me as she crosses in front of the rope. I wave back and mouth, “Gorgeous!”
There. Friend duty complete.
I’m about to leave when Marissa steps up the aisle with one of the football players. Everyone else wore long ball gowns, but Marissa took the short mini-dress route with a keyhole exposing her cleavage. Nearly a clubbing outfit.
I cringe as I watch her walk with this new guy who’s cute and buff, but as he swerves it’s obvious he’s a bit tipsy. Surprised he got past the wall of chaperones. He pulls her too close to his hip, hand brushing her butt. A remaining parent gasps. My heart drops.
What is Marissa doing with him?
She directs him through the turn of the aisle, taking a place on the dance floor. Immediately, he’s all up on her, grinding like crazy to the classical music. What the heck? Isn’t that for later, when the room darkens, and the music is just right? Not now. Nasty choice.
Marissa doesn’t seem to care though. Nope, in fact, she grinds back.
I hear her mom squeal from behind me, “Look, George. Doesn’t she look hot in that dress?”
Her dad nods, never looking up from his phone. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without that thing glued to his palm. I’ve never liked him with his long hair greased back. It’s creepy. Thankfully, he wasn’t around much when we used to hang out.
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