Prom King

by Penny Wylder

I open my eyes for a second and she nods, understanding. “Well, we’ll make sure you look great. You give them hell.”

  I laugh. “I’ll try.”

  My hair is already done, and the stylist managed to style my hair in a way I always wished it could look but never accomplished myself. It’s a simple style, falling in waves down my back with the sides twisted away from my face. I only get a glimpse of myself before she waves my eyes closed again, but Maren knows what she’s doing.

  She’s brushing my face and lining my lips and I go into a zen-like zone while I let her work. I nearly jump out of my skin when I hear Lorraine’s voice. “How are we doing in here?”

  “Geeze, Lorraine.”

  “Sorry,” she grins. “Business voice. You look great!”

  I glance toward the mirror, and she’s right. My eyes look bigger and more green than they usually are. She picked a deep berry color for my lips that I never would have chosen for myself. The effect is amazing. “Thank you,” I say to Maren.

  “No problem.”

  Lorraine guides me to dressing rooms. These aren’t your typical dressing rooms; they’re extra luxurious and usually reserved for the store’s A-list clients. “You’re going to look so badass,” she says, pointing to a room.

  Behind the curtain I find an icy blue silk dress, and freeze. “Lor?”

  “Yeah?” her voice is muffled across the room in her own alcove.

  “What is this?”

  I can practically hear her eyes roll. “It’s your dress.”

  “I didn’t try anything like this on.”

  She slides back the curtain already undressed to her underwear and it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “No, you didn’t try that dress on. But it came in after you’d already left and I knew that it would be perfect. And,” she says, holding out a finger before I interrupt, “if you absolutely hate it and want to set yourself on fire, I have a back-up dress. But you’re not going to hate it. It’s perfect.” She slides the curtain shut, and I know that I’m going to lose this fight.

  I take a closer look at the dress. It’s beautiful. Turning it on the hanger, I see that this dress is backless. The thin beaded straps that I saw from the front fall all the way to the waist of the dress where it catches the drape. Is she crazy?

  But I put the dress on. Lorraine has decided she wants to see me in this dress. So I’ll show her and tell her I want something different.

  I slide back the curtain and walk to one of the pedestals that are framed by three-pane mirrors. And the sight of myself in the dress makes me freeze again.

  Damn it. The fact that Lor is so, so right is going to make her day. Her year.

  It’s not only that it’s a gorgeous dress, it’s that it’s the dress. There’s a book series that Lor and I loved as teenagers. She’s kind of moved on. I haven’t. I still love World’s Waterfall and I re-read it regularly, still hoping that the series will be finished before I’m too old to read it or the author dies. But there’s a scene in one of the books—the scene that everyone talks about where the hero and heroine finally get together—and she’s wearing a dress that is described a lot like this.

  I won’t lie, the fact that I look like her is making me freak out inside. There’s an excitement building in my chest that I wasn’t expecting. Outside, I’m still frozen, standing and looking at myself in the mirror.

  Lorraine comes out of her dressing room in her own dress, sees me and breaks into a huge smile. “Oh. My. God. You look fucking fantastic.”

  “Lorraine, you know that this is the dress.”

  “I know,” she grins. “When it came in, I just knew. I knew you had to have that dress.”

  I shake my head, looking back at my reflection. I look like I always imagined the heroine would, beautiful and ethereal. But how can I take this, the way I look and feel, into a situation that’s sure to blow up into a massive shit storm? When I say as much to Lorraine, she rolls her eyes.

  “Girl, you are wearing that dress. And I believe that the power of that dress will overcome anything bad that could possibly happen. And if people are idiots, I’m going to take you out and we’ll paint the town blue with you in that dress because we’re not wasting it.”

  “Okay.” I’m not totally convinced, but her enthusiasm makes me want to believe.

  I slide into the silver shoes that she put in my dressing room and switch my essentials into my clutch. We’re leaving the rest of our stuff here. Lor will get it later. I guess there’s not anything else to do except…go to the party.

  Lorraine loops her arm in mine and I brace myself. I hope I don’t regret this.

  3

  Adam

  I’m honestly not sure why I’m here. Sure, the Plaza is beautiful, but there aren’t a lot of people from high school that I want to see. A couple, maybe, but this party is way over the top.

  The minute I walked into the ballroom I felt out of place. I never felt like I belonged in this crowd of people when I was seventeen, I sure don’t feel like I fit in now that everyone has grown up to be richer and more pretentious.

  A girl waves at me from across the room. I smile and nod, but I don’t remember her. Heading over to the bar, I wait in the line avoiding eye contact with anyone. My father thought it would be a good idea for me to come, show my face to some of my now-famous classmates. Everyone who went to my school is someone now—or at least it feels that way.

  “Adam Carlisle!” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to find Trent Bingham—one of the few people I was close with in high school, though we haven’t seen each other in years. I’m not going to admit how relieved I am to see a familiar face.

  I clap him on the back as well. “Hey, man. How are you?”

  “Pretty good,” he says as we move forward in the line. “Absolutely hating this. You?”

  “Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” I deadpan.

  He laughs. “Yeah, I thought so. What are you up to now?”

  “Medicine,” I say.

  “You actually did it. Congrats. That’s huge! What’s your specialty?”

  We’ve reached the bar now, and I order a whiskey. “Pediatrics.”

  Trent shakes his head, “The women must love you.”

  I squash down a grimace. “I do all right.” I’d rather not talk about that complicated part of my life right now. “What are you doing?”

  “Finance. Pretty standard answer in this room I’d imagine.”

  “Probably,” I chuckle, “But it’s still a good one.” I raise my glass to him, and he cheers as well.

  Walking away from the bar, we find a table near the dance floor, which is empty. We’re still in the eating and mingling phase of the party.

  “I honestly didn’t expect to see you here. You were never one for parties.”

  “No,” I shake my head. “You’re right. It was suggested I might want to show my face to all the fancy people to make sure my reputation and public profile get a boost.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes, but I smile. Trent was one of the guys I could always be real with, and even in the couple minutes we’ve been back together it feels that way again. He’s always had a gift for making people feel comfortable and open, something I imagine comes in handy in the finance world.

  “Ah, yes,” Trent says, putting on a tone. “So that big investors like me will be impressed by your work in the pediatric field and make a generous donation to your hospital.”

  “Precisely.”

  The band starts up a new song, and a memory hits me like a wave—prom night. That was probably one of the strangest nights of my life. There’s a commotion by the door and I look over and my whole body goes cold, then hot. Olivia Mitchell is standing in the doorway.

  I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Nobody thought we’d ever see her again. But there she is, alive and… beautiful.

  And then she looks right at me. It feels like my heart stops. This song, looking at each other. It feels all too familiar, and I don’t think that I can keep still. />
  I glance over at Trent. “Excuse me.”

  He follows my gaze and smiles. “It’s about time, man. Go.”

  I leave my whiskey at the table, and I head straight for her. It’s like I’m being pulled, and she’s looking at me like I’m the last person she expected to see. I hope that I’m not the last person that she wanted to see. Olivia. Ollie. It’s been a long time, and there are emotions welling up inside my chest that I haven’t examined in a long time.

  The first step is to say hello, Adam. Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  It’s shallow, but I’m stunned by how gorgeous she looks. Ollie was always beautiful in a quiet way, but it’s not quiet tonight. I try to pull my eyes away from the blue dress hugging her amazing body or else my dick is going to be as hard as granite. But holy fuck do I want to look and never stop looking.

  She looks away from me and suddenly I can breathe again. And then I can’t, because Sasha is walking up to her.

  Shit. I change my course across the ballroom. I’m going to talk to Olivia, I have to, but not while Sasha is there. Not after…everything. I look back and our eyes meet again. Somehow I manage to give her a small smile. I’m bummed I’ll have to wait to talk to her, but at least it gives me a chance to figure out what I’m going to say.

  I walked into this ballroom dreading this night. Now I’m not sure if there’s any place that I’d rather be.

  4

  Ollie

  I was right. I think I’m going to be sick. The air outside Bergdorf’s is that rare perfect New York summer. The breeze is cool and you feel magic and possibility in the air. Right. Magic. But I’ve already seen three people from my high school class walk into the doors in front of us, and I’m not feeling so magical anymore.

  Lorraine has a firm grip on my arm, and I know that she’s not going to let me fall. It’s comforting. And then we’re walking inside and I can’t breathe. “Ollie,” Lor says softly, “chill. You’re fine.”

  She’s right. I am fine.

  Totally fine.

  There’s a cluster of people around the entry table with everyone’s name tags. I notice a girl in a vibrant yellow dress. Her name is Diana and she was one of the people who was nice to me despite me being a total nerd.

  She catches my eye and the does a double-take of recognition. The rest of the group follows her gaze and suddenly I’m being stared at by seven people. It feels like a thousand, and blood rushes to my face. Turning away quickly, I follow Lor—who’s already pinning on her name tag—and step up to the table.

  “Olivia Mitchell.”

  The girl sitting behind the table looks up suddenly, and then I watch as her eyes drift deliberately down to my wrists and back. That’s… weird. She shakes her head. “Sorry. Here you go!” The smile she puts on is overly cheerful.

  I pin the name tag to the jewel strap of my dress and join Lor at the edge of the ballroom. “Did you see the way she looked at me?”

  “Not everyone is looking at you, Ollie,” she rolls her eyes.

  The minute she says my name, heads spin. The people standing by the entrance see me, and their eyes go wide. I see people turn and whisper, and the next row turn and whisper. Even with the music, you can hear it, the hushed tones of my arrival being announced. This is what I was afraid of.

  “Okay,” Lorraine says, “I guess they’re looking at you now.”

  “Thanks, I noticed.”

  She loops her arm through mine again. “No matter,” she says. “We’re going in and we’re going to be absolutely fucking fabulous!” She says it loud enough that all the people whispering can hear.

  Then it happens. The first notes of the song from prom night start to play, and I feel like I’m being pulled into a vortex of sound and memory. Right there, across the room, is Adam Carlisle, and he’s looking right at me.

  I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming, right?

  My stomach drops into free-fall. He looks amazed, shocked, but not unhappy. I know that I’m dreaming now. And then he gets up and starts walking toward me.

  Lorraine sees him too. “Did I tell you or did I tell you? Girl.”

  “He’s not coming over to talk to me,” I say. But I can tell that he is. I just can’t believe it.

  He’s looking at me. At me. Like I’m the only thing he sees, and every feeling that I had in high school comes rushing back. Lor was absolutely right. I had the biggest crush on him. I was utterly in love with him, and I might still be, just a little bit.

  How can this be happening right now? Maybe everything is magic tonight: this dress, the weather outside, Adam. But then again, everything once seemed magical before. And then it all went wrong, and there’s nothing that can ever change that.

  5

  Ollie

  Senior Year

  The sound of bouncing basketballs is echoing loudly in my ears, but I don’t mind. I’ll sit through it if I have to in order to watch Adam. If Lorraine were here, she’d roll her eyes, but I can’t get enough of watching the way he moves. Every move is so confident and smooth, and I wish I were more like that.

  The game is in full swing, and even though this isn’t my normal scene, I find myself enjoying it. Though it’s fair to say that I don’t think that I’d be enjoying basketball as much without my particular brand of eye-candy. I don’t really know when my crush on Adam started, only that it’s been growing more and more out of control. I see him when I watch movies and read books. When my eyes close, I imagine him kissing me. I dream about it too.

  I imagine him catching me as he’s leaving school and pulling me around the building to the area where the old trees cast shade and beautiful patterns on the brick walls of the courtyard. He shares a smile with me—like we’re both in on a secret—and puts a finger to his lips. We wait, hidden together while the school empties, and his fingers slowly curl around mine.

  “I’ve wanted to do this for a while,” Adam says.

  I pretend that I don’t know what he’s talking about. “What?”

  He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he tilts my chin up and closes the distance between us. I close my eyes as his lips touch mine, and I feel like I’m flying and falling and shaking and that I’ll never be the same. It’s perfect, and I never want it to—

  I jump as soda splashes down onto my head and onto my copy of World’s Waterfall.

  “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” An overly sweet voice says. Sasha Green sits down next to me and dabs at the book and my hair with her napkin. She’s still in her jazz dance costume from half time, and she’s looking at me with concern. “Are you okay? I must have slipped.”

  That’s odd, because it’s a fact that Sasha is the best dancer in the school. She doesn’t slip. But I nod. After being startled out of that particular fantasy, I don’t really want to talk to anyone. But she doesn’t move on. Instead she sits next to me and pulls the book out of my hands. “What are you reading?”

  I don’t have the chance to answer because she turns the book over and scans the back, and I can already see her face pulling into a grimace. The crowd around us cheers and I look toward the court to see Adam jogging away from the basket with a smile on his face. He scored.

  “Wow, that’s a big smile,” Sasha says cheerfully. I hadn’t realized I was smiling at him, and I make sure to make my face go blank. “Aww, it’s okay,” she says, putting the book back into my lap. “You like him.”

  “He’s a nice guy,” I say, still hoping that she’ll go away. But Sasha Green isn’t a person that you ask to go away. Doing that just means you’ll be the target of the popular crowd for a month.

  She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that you like him like him.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “It’s okay if you do,” she says sweetly. “It’s cute.”

  I try to shake my head, to form the words to stop this. The last thing I need is for it to get back to Adam that I have a crush on him. I would die. Actually and literally die. “It’s not like that.” />
  Sasha tilts her head. “That’s too bad. There’s nothing wrong with liking someone. How do you think Adam would feel if he knew that you don’t like him?”

  My face flushes, and my body goes hot. I can feel myself start to panic, and I know that I need to leave. I’m not sure how she’s managed to do it—turn my words back on me twice—but it’s safer if I leave. “I—I have to go.”

  “So soon?” She gives me a smile that looks friendly on the surface.

  I grab my bag off the bleachers and edge my way past some people to the stairs. The game is close to the end and people are so caught up in it that they don’t even notice me going by. As soon as I’m away from Sasha, I feel a little better. I don’t know what that was about, but I don’t like it. Bad things happen when people like Sasha pay attention to people like me.

  I look back, and Sasha is still watching me with a sickly sweet smile. She waves, and I speed up, wanting to get out of her orbit as quickly as possible. The world spins and suddenly I’m falling, my bag and books slip and I slam face first into the gym floor.

  There’s a collective gasp, and I don’t move. Everything hurts, but I’m not sure that it hurts more than the fact that I know everyone in the gym is looking at me. I can feel blood coming from my nose—I should get up. Get some ice. Hide for the rest of eternity. This is a good to-do list.

  I start to push myself up, and suddenly there’s a hand grasping my arm, helping me to stand. I’m blushing bright red, but I know I have to thank whoever it is. But my mouth is dry and suddenly I’m shaking. It’s Adam.

  He looks concerned, actual and real concern and oh my god I can’t believe he’s seeing me like this. I press my hand to my nose to try to stop the blood, but it’s already over. There are tears welling in my eyes and I try to blink them away because I don’t want him to see me cry too.

  “Are you all right?” he asks.

  “I…I don’t know.” I’m very much not all right. I’ll never be able to show my face in school again.

  Suddenly I hear footsteps running toward me. “Ollie!” It’s Lorraine, coming from across the gym where the cheerleaders are sitting.