Solving for Ex

by LeighAnn Kopans

  “No, uh…I mean, it’s nice. It wasn’t necessary…” I trailed off.

  “I just want you to feel special. It’s not a crime, is it?”

  “Special” hadn’t been part of any vocabulary I had used when thinking about myself since…ever, really. The cutest boy in school was standing here, in our foyer, pulling out all the stops for me and a stupid dance.

  Nobody else had ever made that kind of effort. Definitely not Brendan, and there was no reason to think that he ever would. I just needed to let it go. Have fun. I was a normal high school kid going to a normal high school dance. There was no reason for all this drama and angst.

  I took a deep breath and looked down at the rose Vincent held out to me. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows.

  “Oh. I know it’s not a corsage kind of dance, but I really hate not being able to bring a girl flowers,” Vincent said, holding out the rose. Aunt Kristin stepped back and looked at me, unable to hide her expression of pleasant shock.

  “I know yellow roses mean friendship,” Kristin said, “and red mean love. What do you think pink means?”

  I shrugged and turned to grab my bag, when Vincent said, “Admiration. And gratitude. I asked the florist.”

  I scoffed. “You’re the one taking me to dinner.”

  His eyes smiled down at me. “You’re the one letting me. I’m just really glad I was there that day.”

  “Okay, well,” Kristin said with a nervous laugh. “I’ll just…get back to my show,” she finished lamely. “Back by when?”

  “Midnight for sure, Mrs. Harris,” Vincent said, still looking at me.

  I turned to make eye contact with Kristin. “Probably ten, though. It’ll be closer to ten.”

  “Midnight’s fine. I’ll see you then, sweetie.” She grabbed my hand and held on as she looked at me. “And have fun.”

  Ω

  On our way out, Vincent left his customary half-foot of distance between us. Enough to keep me comfortable, and close enough to send me the signal, loud and clear, that he liked me. Yep. Flower, once-over, limo. He definitely liked me. And the flutter of excitement in my stomach about just that fact was not unpleasant at all.

  Vincent made some motion through the front windshield. While it was a limo, it wasn’t so stretch, and the space in the back was pretty tight. When he ducked in after me, the scent of his cologne filled the air. It wasn’t choking, but it did catch me off guard. His grown-up cologne was just one more thing about him that made this all feel very grown-up.

  But thinking of the way my hips curved in these jeans, and the warmth that ran through me when Vincent’s leg smooshed up against mine in that backseat, I suddenly felt some pretty adult feelings myself.

  We rode for a few blocks, staring out the window.

  “What are the autumn leaves like in Pittsburgh?” he asked.

  “Oh!” My voice suddenly filled with a kind of warmth I didn’t hear from myself too often. I remembered last year tromping through the woods, trying to catch the perfect macro and then, later, landscape shots of the beautiful Pennsylvania fall foliage. But then I remembered. That was at home.

  “Well, here it’s fine. But up at Tioga…” There was that wistful tone in my voice again. I cleared my throat, and glanced over at him. “The national park near my parents’ house, Tioga, has the most incredible foliage. But I guess you won’t be seeing that.” I forced a chuckle.

  His eyes burned into mine again. “Who knows? Maybe I will.”

  I caught his gaze for another second before turning to look out my window.

  We rode another fifteen minutes in silence until I noticed we were headed toward downtown. I realized I had never asked him where we were going to dinner.

  The car slowed, and I looked at Vincent curiously. He popped open the door, stepped out, and reached a hand in to help me out. “Dinner.” He smiled. I looked up at one of the tallest buildings in Pittsburgh.

  “Where—?”

  “Just follow me.” He still held onto my hand, fingers closed, like a gentleman would have held onto a lady’s a century ago. We stepped into a fancy lobby with a marble floor and giant chandeliers dripping with thousands of crystals. A cellist and pianist played in the corner of the restaurant, populated with tables lit by candlelight and adorned with wine buckets.

  The patrons were in all kinds of fancy dress, the women in precarious-looking heels, even crazier than mine. But none of them were wearing jeans. I looked down at our shirts, tugging on mine, and flushed. I suddenly wanted to get out of there. Badly.

  “Vincent, I had no idea…”

  “Hey,” he leaned down and whispered in my ear. “My dad knows someone who knows someone. They reserved us a spot all to ourselves. We’re perfectly fine, dressed just like this.”

  I tried to smile at him, but it didn’t change the fact that I had to walk past all those people eating in their fancy clothes. Of course they all stared at me.

  I hated being stared at.

  “Would it make you feel better if we ate out here?” he asked.

  “No, let’s just…get to our table.”

  We arrived in a small back room with a table set for two. There was a long buffet with about five main courses, three salads, and twenty desserts lined up, waiting for us.

  “I didn’t know what your favorite was, but I know we have to get going soon. So I had them make a bunch of stuff, so we could eat and go.”

  “Why did you bring me here?” I asked. I couldn’t find anything malicious in his face, since he just looked at me in that way he always did—like he was just so, so happy to be with me.

  “I just wanted you to feel special. I don’t know. No one else is doing this. I want to stand out.”

  I smiled. “Well, you certainly accomplished that.”

  His face fell a little bit. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

  Well, shit. I may not have been instantly head over heels for him, but he was still a good guy who treated me well. I didn’t want to make him feel bad. “No, no. It’s awesome. Really, Vincent. It’s great.” I craned my neck to look in the buffet trays. “Hey, is that mac and cheese?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” He grinned. “That’s what I asked for. Fancy place, normal food.”

  I laughed. “Okay, so what else is there?”

  His shoulders relaxed. Thank God. I’d broken the tension. “Uh…hot dogs, I think. French fries?”

  “Well, now you’re talking.” We grabbed plates and dug into the spread. I ate one bite of everything, because there were just so many choices—including one bite of every dessert. It might have been normal food, but hell if that wasn’t the best mac and cheese I’d ever tasted. It made me seriously wonder what kind of expensive-ass cheese was in this.

  After twenty minutes of eating and laughing with Vincent, we both stared at the last bite of dessert—old-fashioned cheesecake with cherry topping. He picked up his fork, poised it over the top, and looked at me.

  “I’ll let you have it,” I said. He dug in, loading his fork with a big, dripping bite, and had the fork almost to his mouth. I leaned back in my seat. “Even though it’s my favorite.”

  His eyebrows flicked up and he gave me a little smile. Then he turned the fork around, and leaned toward me.

  I knew I was supposed to move, to lean forward to meet it. I don’t know why I didn’t. That didn’t stop Vincent, though. He kept leaning forward, propping his elbows on the table between us and cupping his left hand under the fork to catch any drips.

  “Vincent, I can’t eat all—” But at just that moment, he took advantage of my open mouth and shoved the cheesecake in.

  I couldn’t help it. I laughed. It was so rich and good that I might have even made a little noise at the taste of it. Right before something gooey dripped down my chin.

  “You just have a little—” Vincent leaned in a fraction of an inch more, swiped his thumb across my chin, and held his hand there for just a moment longer than he had to, staring at the place where the top
ping had been. His face turned dead serious, and my stomach flipped.

  Half a second later, I swallowed the bite of cheesecake, gave a slight laugh, and looked away. “Um, wow. That was—”

  “Good?” Vincent asked, his face still serious. “There’s definitely more, if you want.”

  “No,” I said, suddenly very focused on his lips, “I think we ate every single bite of dessert.”

  “I wasn’t talking about dessert.” Vincent’s eyes burned into me. For a moment, I thought there was a hunger there, but then he went back to how he always looked—satisfied. Patient. I cleared my throat.

  “Dinner was awesome,” I said, getting up from my seat and locating my bag. “But you didn’t have to do anything this fancy. Really.”

  “You like simple. Got it. I’ll keep that in mind for next time.” He flicked his eyebrows up at me again, got up, and turned to open the door for me before I could say anything.

  And the crazy thing was, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to.

  of a cautious temper

  Mansfield Prep wasn’t very far from the restaurant. On the ride over, I leaned back in my seat, and Vincent did the same. Just like on the way to the restaurant, his thigh pressed up against mine. Unlike on the way to the restaurant, the space between us was filled with my memory of that bite of cheesecake, and how Vincent swiping his thumb across my chin had felt less like a hygiene move and more like a proposition. Or, the way he looked at me now, a promise.

  He leaned his head back on the headrest, then turned it to me. “I had fun tonight.” His voice was quieter than normal, more gravelly. There was something about the way he said the words, a little breathlessly, like it was a secret between us, that made me look at him.

  His gaze was so focused on me. Again, I laughed and looked forward to break the tension. “Night’s not over yet. We still have some dancing to do, and some geeks to make jealous.”

  That smile came back. “Exactly which geeks are you talking about?”

  I laughed. “Um, all of them? Our shirts are awesome. ‘Do not drink and derive?’ Come on. Who’s not going to be jealous?” I swallowed a lump in my throat that had risen there independent of any specific thought.

  A seasoned Mathlete would have cracked up, but Vincent just sort of shook his head and gave a vague smile. He must have gotten the joke, but I guess it just wasn’t hilarious unless you lived and breathed math.

  Now that we’d had dinner together, instead of thinking he looked slightly too formal and way ridiculous, I appreciated how the collared shirt Vincent was wearing framed his face. His absolutely stunning face.

  Like he knew what I was thinking, he looked forward and smiled.

  We were both quiet for the next few minutes, until the limo slowed. Vincent leaned forward and tapped the glass in front of us. “Just wait for us out here.” The super faint outline of the limo driver’s head nodded.

  Vincent held out his hand, palm up and fingers relaxed, to me. “Ready for this?”

  I smiled. “That depends,” I said. “How good of a dancer are you?”

  Ω

  Vincent dropped my hand as soon as he helped me climb out of the limo, and I glanced around at all the other kids getting out of their cars—their everyday cars. Granted, they drove makes that my family couldn’t pay for if they sold the whole farmhouse, but they were still the same cars they drove every single day to school.

  “Hey, Ashley!” a high, perky voice called out across the parking lot, echoing against the shining marble walls of Mansfield Prep’s columned walkway, and bouncing back to my ears like a freaking banshee.

  Sofia bounced toward me across the parking lot, her stretching-to-eternity, thin-yet-perfectly-curvy legs encased in skinny jeans, wearing a pink and green paisley shirt and the craziest stilettos I’d ever seen. She walked on them as confidently as a runway model would. And, behind her, she dragged Brendan. He looked like an adorably confused puppy. I hated that look and loved it at the same time.

  “Hey, Ash,” he said, smiling in that same confused way.

  “How’d it work out?” Sofia asked, looking at Vincent.

  “Perfectly. If that was dinner every night, you wouldn’t hear a complaint out of me.” Vincent stepped close and nudged his shoulder into mine, smiling down at me.

  Brendan looked at me curiously. “Didn’t you bring a picnic?”

  “Well, uh…” I cleared my throat. “It was picnic food. But it was…”

  “Gruyère mac and cheese, man. It was epic. At Seviche, that restaurant downtown. Simple food, incredible view. You should think about it. I’m sure your dad basically designed the place, right?”

  “Uh...maybe. Yeah. I don’t know.” Brendan looked down at where his hand connected with Sofia’s, like he just realized he’d been holding it. He drew it away from hers and used it to run back through his hair, which was perpetually flopping in his eyes. Half the time I thought he kept it that way just so he could push it back like that when he needed something to do with his hands.

  The thump of a bass wafted from the auditorium. Vincent gestured with his chin toward the school. “Sounds good. Who did they get?”

  “Tommy and the Last Kisses,” Sofia said. “Britt’s dad knows their publicist and convinced them to stop here on their way cross-country from Philly.”

  “I thought they sounded familiar.” Vincent looked down at me, checking for recognition. I had no clue. He shrugged. “First dance, Ash?” Brendan’s face fell. No one ever called me Ash besides him. But the way Vincent looked at me and reached for my hand…it didn’t sound too weird. Brendan certainly wasn’t trying, and that fact was quickly changing my attitude from sad to pissed off, and it looked like it could head into me not giving a damn. I smiled at him. “Sure.” Slipping my hand into his, we started walking toward the school. I looked back over my shoulder and called, “You guys coming?”

  Ω

  Like most everything else about Sadie, I hadn’t known a thing about the theme. We walked inside the school’s ballroom—yes, Mansfield Prep had a ballroom, for donor’s events—to see it decked out with chrome accents, pastel streamers, a huge jukebox framing the stage that held the band, and a make-your-own milkshake stand.

  “Roadside Diner theme. Nice,” Vincent said.

  “How did you figure that so quickly?” I asked, kind of impressed. It did look good, like the 50s sock hop scene had transported itself here.

  “Oh, as soon as Sofia heard that they were doing a tolo, she got right on the decorations committee. She likes to be in charge of everything. Has a picture of what she wants, and she’ll do anything to make it happen.”

  “Well, you’re twins. Are you the same that way?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’d rather be surprised by finding something that’s already absolutely perfect for me.” He gazed down at me, his eyes falling on the same spot where he’d wiped the cherry topping from my chin. My heart quickened again. The strings of white lights reflected on every surface ten times more intensely than normal. Including those rich brown eyes of his, sparked with gold. They were so bright, were looking at me so warmly, the specks of gold like little flames, that if I looked into them for too long they’d melt me, too.

  I suddenly found Aunt Kristin’s shoes desperately in need of a scuff check. I lifted one and examined it, brushing some mud from outside off the heel.

  “Like this sorry situation, for instance,” he said. He gestured toward the room and its empty dance floor, and a bunch of kids gathered along the walls in circles of three or four, talking. Dozens waiting in line for malts or sodas. “I’m pretty happy with it, because I don’t care about any of those kids. I only care about you.”

  My cheeks blazed red. Thank God the lighting was dim. I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t even know how I felt about that. “But Sofia…Sof won’t like this at all. I’m giving it about sixty seconds till she does something about it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just watch. You’ll see what
I mean.” He pointed at Sofia as she and her chestnut hair bounced across the dance floor. Even I had to admit that paisley collared shirt looked good on her. How it was possible for a girl in high school to have such long legs, such a tiny waist, and such big boobs was beyond me. I knew by the way at least a dozen other guys watched her that they were thinking the same thing. She was like a freaking Barbie doll, and consequently the wet dream of every guy here.

  My gaze turned to Brendan standing in the doorway where she’d left him. The look on his face was different. His mouth hung open and he kind of slouch-swayed to the music like all the other guys, but the way his eyebrows drew together just a bit in the center gave it away. It was the same look he got whenever he was trying to figure something out.

  Of course he thought she was hot—everyone did. But he was also totally confused.

  Sofia stood on her tiptoes to talk to the bass player. His eyes drifted from her face to a point below her chin and he got that same bemused expression guys always had when they were getting a free show. Which meant he was no longer thinking with his brain, at least not the one in his head. Which meant, at this point, he’d do whatever she wanted.

  Damn, this girl was good. Sometimes, I wished I could control people like that.

  The bass player nodded at her, walked over to the lead singer, and whispered something in her ear. She smiled, winked down at Sofia, and said into the microphone, “Okay, you deadbeats, whaddya say we really get this dance going?”

  There was a halfhearted cheer from the crowd, mostly coming from the group of designer jeans and stiletto-wearing, $500-phone-toting girls Sofia had already started to rule.

  “We’re gonna snowball. One couple will start us off, nice and slow, and when we switch songs, they grab new partners. Girls ask the boys. Got it?”

  Another cheer, and this time some of the guys joined in. Leave it to them to appreciate a situation where they didn’t even have to find the balls to ask a girl to dance. Even I thought it was an okay idea, until Sofia walked to the dance floor hand in hand with Brendan, and that weird burning started in my chest. And it only got worse when the first song the singer played was a slow song. A very slow song.