I wasn't sure who had been in charge of transforming the commons area into prom, and I didn't have a basis for comparison, but it was magical and didn't feel like the high school at all.
Weston guided me to a table, and I sat before looking up at him.
"Who'll be sitting in those chairs?" I asked, nodding toward the empty seats on the other side of the table.
Weston helped me to scoot closer to the table, and then he sat next to me, shrugging. "Whoever can mind their manners."
"What now?" I asked.
The servers, all sophomores handpicked by upperclassmen, were busy bringing waters to the dozens of tables. I moved aside when our server set a glass of ice water next to my table setting. She smiled nervously. Her baby blue T-shirt displayed the prom theme and emblem and set off her frizzy copper hair.
Weston leaned over to speak into my ear, "Once everyone gets seated, they'll serve us dinner, then we dance, and then we leave."
"That's it?"
"Pretty much."
I relaxed. "Okay, I can handle that."
He raised my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. Then, he kept my hand in his as he lowered them to his lap.
Within half an hour, the room was full of chatter and upperclassmen. The two chairs in front of us were filled by Brian Fredrick and Janelle Hunt. She was somehow successful in glaring at me and seeming bored at the same time, but Brian was animated and chatty. He and Weston talked about football and coaches. Janelle looked around the room, hopeful to find more preferable seating. I was hoping she would find it.
"Are you still working at the DQ?" Brian asked, his round cheeks moving his equally round eyes when he spoke.
"Yes," I said, trying not to shrink back from Janelle's stare.
She was unhappy that he had addressed me.
A loud cackle came from someone passing by, and then I saw Brady Beck.
He knocked on our table with his knuckles and nodded to Brian. "Oh, man. Bad luck."
Brian made a face as he watched Brady walking away. "That's just rude, dude." He shook his head and then let Brady's words roll off. "I was wondering what it's like to work with Frankie. She seems crazy!" he said, chuckling.
"She's pretty fun," I said.
Janelle sighed and rolled her eyes. She scanned the room again and then touched Brian's arm. "There are two chairs over there!" she said, eager.
Brian stumbled over his next words, desperately trying to cover for his date.
"No one is forcing you to sit here," Weston said. "If you're going to be a bitch, I'd rather you leave." His fingers squeezed mine, his cheeks flushing red against his tan skin.
I squeezed his hand back, silently begging him not to make a scene.
Janelle didn't answer. Instead, she turned her attention to the decorations and then waved to her friends across the room.
Brian offered an apologetic expression, and he began to open his mouth to change the subject, but then our server set plates of food in front of Janelle and me. Janelle seemed pleased with the distraction, but she didn't thank the awkward, gangly red-haired girl who had served us.
Moments later, two more plates were delivered.
"Thank you," I said.
The girl smiled brightly, thrilled to be acknowledged. "You're welcome."
"I'm glad she has that mess pulled back into a ponytail," Janelle grumbled. "I don't want her hair in my food. It looks like red pubes."
Brian grimaced. "She's trying really hard, Janelle. Give her a break."
As we picked over our greasy chicken breasts and bland green beans, Weston cringed. "Wow, this is..."
"At least the rolls are good," Brian said, chewing.
I couldn't help but smile. I liked Brian.
Janelle dropped her fork against the plate. "Disgusting every year. I wish they would just let us eat at a restaurant and then come here for the dance."
After dessert, the DJ introduced himself and welcomed us to prom. He announced the main chaperones and sponsors, and then he put on an upbeat song to initiate a line dance. I was one of a handful of girls who didn't rush to the dance floor. Whoever didn't know the moves were giggling while trying to learn it.
Weston watched with a smile on his face. He seemed content with sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair.
Brian leaned in closer and spoke loudly so that we could hear him over the music, "Are you excited for Duke?"
Weston shook his head. "I'm not going to Duke."
"What?" Brian asked, confused.
"I'm going to the Art Institute of Dallas," Weston said with pride.
"Since when?"
"Since I applied and was accepted."
"Is your dad mad?" Brian asked.
Weston shook his head. "He was surprised."
"I'll bet," Brian said, raising his eyebrows. A few beads of sweat had begun to form at his hairline, and he tugged at his collar. "I gotta take this off. I'm burning up." He removed his tux jacket and swung it around the back of his chair.
Weston did the same and then looked at me. "You wanna dance?"
I shook my head.
The current song ended, and a ballad came over the speakers. Chairs squeaked across the tile floor as the boys stood to join their dates on the dance floor.
"C'mon," Weston said, shamelessly begging me with his beautiful eyes.
"O-okay," I said, taking his hand.
Weston found an open spot and then spun me around before pulling me close. He pulled my hands up and behind his neck, and I clasped my fingers together. He settled his hands on the small of my back and took the first side step.
"I don't dance," I said.
Weston didn't hear me at first, so I leaned up on the balls of my feet and repeated the words next to his ear.
He touched his cheek to mine and then kissed my forehead. "I don't either, but I'll dance with you."
I rested my temple against his chest as I let him sway me back and forth to the music. We were stiff and not at all graceful, but I didn't care who was watching or what they might be thinking.
All that mattered was that I was with Weston Gates. I had imagined it many times before, including the previous year when I had been making dip cones and Blizzards instead of attending prom. Now that I was with exactly whom I had always dreamed of, my only goal was to be present and live in these few minutes of time, for as long as they lasted, and enjoy every second of it.
By the gentle way Weston was pulling me against him, I thought that maybe he was thinking the same.
"I've spent a lot of time trying not to hope for this night with you," Weston said into my ear. "But the harder I tried, the more I thought about it. I wasn't sure how I could make it happen, but by some miracle, you're here, in my arms. I don't want to think about graduation or this summer or even two hours from now. Right now is the best it's ever been for me. In this moment, you're my entire universe, shining in all the right places."
He slid his fingers over the jewels at the small of my back and smiled.
I hugged him tighter to me, trying to make the world stop, to make time pause, as I wished that we could somehow remain there forever.
When I glanced at a small group of boys clustered a few feet away, I knew they had no plans of letting that happen.
"JESUS, GET A ROOM, GATES," Brady said, standing on the outskirts of the dance floor with his group of friends.
Weston simply raised his fist, lifted his middle finger, and then returned his hand back to me. He didn't even look at Brady.
Never one to be ignored, Brady took the few steps to where we were dancing and craned his neck at Weston. "I remember when you were on this dance floor last year, feeling up Alder every time you got a chance."
Weston stopped dancing and stared straight over my head, probably at nothing.
"Weston," I warned, "don't let him ruin it. That's all he's trying to do."
He took a deep breath and then sidestepped, dancing again.
Brady looked behind
him and nodded to his group of friends. Micah and Brendan were standing there with Tyson and Andrew. Tyson was the only one who didn't look particularly amused with the scene Brady was trying to make.
Brady turned back to us. "You gonna tap Erin's ass tonight the way you did Alder last year? In the back of your truck?"
I froze.
Brady began to laugh. "He already has, hasn't he? What, Erin? Did you think it was something he did just with you?"
"Where's your date, Brady?" Weston seethed.
By this point, everyone around us was watching, still dancing but coming closer to see and hear better.
"Unlike you, I have standards. And the only two girls worth bringing passed away a little while ago. You remember them, don't you? Your friends since childhood? Your girlfriend? The girl you said you were going to marry?"
My expression betrayed me, and Brady's eyes brightened with satisfaction.
"Did he give you the we're-going-to-get-married-someday speech, too? Figures. He throws that around about as easily as I love you."
Just as the song ended, Weston turned to face Brady.
Brian walked over, keeping one of his broad shoulders between the two enemies. "C'mon, guys. It's prom. Let's keep it civil."
Weston took a step and leaned in, just inches from Brady's face. "If you try to ruin this night for her, you have my word that your parents will have to buy that tux once I'm through with you."
"Yes, because a couple hundred bucks will be such a hardship," Brady scoffed.
Weston took my hand and led me back to the table. I stood next to Weston while he took a gulp of his ice water.
Brian followed. "Don't worry about it, man."
Weston set down his cup. "He's just trying to detract from the fact that he showed up here alone."
I turned and felt liquid explode against my skin, from my mouth to my waist. Brady was holding an empty cup. The red punch that had been inside was now dripping from my chin and dress. His eyes bulged wide as I held my hands out to my sides.
Weston charged toward Brady, but I pushed my hand out, holding it against his chest. "Weston, it was an accident!"
Brady's expression morphed from shock to smug satisfaction. "It wasn't shit soup, but I'm sure Alder would have been just as happy."
He pulled another cup from behind his back and began to pour it over my head, but Weston tackled him to the floor.
"No! Weston, stop!" I said, red liquid dripping from my hairline.
Chaperones rushed from every dark corner of the room, and what had once been just Weston and Brady scuffling became a large ball of body parts jerking, grabbing, and reaching.
Coach Morris finally made it to the middle and pulled everyone apart. He held both young men by their collars. "What the hell's gotten into you, Weston?" he said, barely acknowledging Brady.
"Look at her!" Weston said, his eyes wild.
He pointed to me, and Coach Morris blinked when he saw that I was covered in punch.
"Did you do that, Beck?" Coach Morris asked, jerking Brady by the collar.
Brady's mouth was bleeding, and both of his eyes were already beginning to swell.
"It was an accident! She turned right into me!" he whined.
"Is that how it got in her hair?" Coach asked, his cheeks flushing with anger.
Weston was turned loose while Coach yanked Brady to the entrance. Light from the streetlamps outside briefly lit up the indoor area when the door opened before it closed again.
Coach Morris came back empty-handed and pointed at Weston. "Sorry, Gates. You, too. But I want you to wait until he's cleared the parking lot."
Weston's expression turned severe. "I promised her I wouldn't let Brady get away with anything like that. Look at her!"
"Weston," I said, touching his arm.
"Look at her!" he screamed again.
Coach's eyes turned sad. He pulled a stack of napkins off the closest table and handed them to me. "I'm really sorry, Erin. You still look lovely."
"Maybe she smells better," Janelle mumbled.
Weston opened his mouth to defend me, but Coach Morris held up his hand.
He pointed to Janelle. "You. Out."
"What?" she shrieked.
"Get your things and go. Anyone else want their night ruined?"
The crowd dispersed, and Janelle picked up her clutch, her eyes glossing over.
She waited for Brian. "Let's go!" Her voice broke as she stamped her foot.
Brian shook his head. "Too bad you weren't nicer to Erin. Weston might have given you a ride."
"Brian!" she whined.
Brian patted Weston on the shoulder. "I would have done the same. Sorry y'all have to leave."
Weston nodded, and then Brian walked to the other side of the room.
Janelle spun around and stomped to the exit, holding her cell phone to her ear.
"I'm..." Weston began, but he couldn't finish. He was too upset.
Coach Morris motioned to us. "Okay, Gates. He should be gone by now. I'm going to walk you out. I'm sorry, Erin."
I shook my head, my skin feeling stickier by the second. Embarrassment hadn't come, and I wondered if it would. I was more worried about Weston than me. He'd been looking forward to prom for so long, and now, we had to leave.
We held hands as we walked to the limo, and although the driver seemed shocked to see the mess Brady had made of my dress, he didn't comment.
Weston tightly held my hand without saying a word until we walked through my front door.
"Don't tell them," I said before running up the stairs.
I could hear Julianne's and Sam's muffled voices mixing with Weston's before I shut the door to my room and stripped off my dress. I nicely laid it on the bed and then kicked off my heels before rushing to the shower.
"Erin?" Julianne called from the hall.
"I'll be out in a minute!" I said back as cheerfully as I could muster.
"Are you all right? What happened?"
"Nothing. It was just overwhelming."
She didn't respond.
The water ran over my head and skin, mixing with the punch, making a light red pool at my feet before swirling down the drain. I rubbed the shampoo into my hair, scrubbing quickly, and then rinsed it out. I did the same with the body wash until my skin no longer felt sticky.
I pulled down the lever and ripped the towel from the rack. I stepped out of the shower before furiously rubbing the moisture from my hair and skin, and then I dressed in a comfortable T-shirt, jeans, and tan leather ballet flats.
When I walked downstairs, Weston was standing by the front door, his hands in his pockets, still wearing his ruffled tux. A button had busted off during the kerfuffle, and more of his chest was showing than before. Specks of red in varying sizes were spattered on the white fabric of his dress shirt, and I recoiled, knowing none of the blood was his.
"You okay?" Weston said quietly.
I nodded, reaching up to straighten his shirt and tie the best I could.
"Erin? What happened?" Sam asked.
"I told Julianne upstairs that prom just got to be too overwhelming. Weston agreed to bring me home, so I could change."
Julianne watched me speak, but my words didn't alleviate her obvious concern. "Erin, honey, why does Weston look like he was in a fight?"
Weston started to speak, but I shot him a look.
"Erin--" Sam began, but the doorbell rang.
Weston stepped to the side, and Sam opened the door to reveal Lynn Beck standing on the porch with Brady, Peter, and Veronica. One of Brady's eyes was swollen shut, and the other was threatening to do the same. His top lip was swollen with a dark blood blister.
"Glad to see you've stopped bleeding," Weston said.
"Weston!" Veronica said, shocked. "Did you do this?"
"You're damn right I did, and if he pours punch--no, if he comes within ten feet of Erin, he'll get it again," Weston snarled.
Brady looked ridiculous, standing behind his mother with var
ious injuries. I couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or happy that she had brought him as evidence, but he wasn't as vocal as usual.
"Poured...what?" Julianne said, her voice rising an octave. She looked to me, horrified.
She ran up the stairs, and in less than a minute, she plodded back down, her hand over her mouth. She took me into her arms and looked to Sam. "Her dress is covered in punch. Brady poured punch on her!" Her voice broke with a combination of sadness and anger.
"She is not the victim here!" Lynn said, pointing at me. "She initiated an unnecessary fight between these boys! They used to be friends, and she has poisoned Weston's mind against my son!"
Julianne held me against her side.
Peter looked at Weston and spoke, "Brady said that you attacked him after Erin walked into his cup of punch. Is that true?"
Weston became agitated again. "Brady tossed his cup of punch on Erin and then tried to pour another one over her head."
Lynn sneered, "It was an accident. She's lying."
"I saw it," Weston said. "Everyone saw it. That's why Coach Morris threw him out."
Sam pushed up his round glasses. "Lynn, I think you'd better leave."
Lynn's face screwed into disgust. "My son was attacked, and you're asking us to leave? You owe us an apology!" Her eyes targeted me. "I can't believe I actually felt happy that you were doing so well. I was going to nominate you for an award at the club. How can you sleep at night, knowing you've made up such lies about my son?"
"Don't address Erin," Sam said. "If you have something to say, say it to me."
"You are trash!" Lynn seethed, narrowing her eyes at me.
Julianne stepped onto the porch, just a few feet from Brady and his mother. "Lynn, get your pretentious ass off my lawn--now."
Lynn's jaw dropped, and she grabbed Brady by the arm before jerking him toward their SUV. "There will be consequences!" she called back, her short hair bouncing as she marched.
Peter chuckled. "She realizes we're attorneys, right?"
Veronica glared at the Becks' SUV while Lynn drove away. "She forgets how much I know. Brady comes home and laughs about how he bullies kids at school, and she laughs with him. She encourages it. She thinks those kids are beneath her and Brady and their family. She believes it in her soul. She thinks his cruelty is funny, and now, she has the gall to pretend he is innocent. Just pathetic."
"I'm just disappointed about that award," I said. "I was really looking forward to it."
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