by Sarah Beard
We arrived at homecoming just as things were getting busy on the dance floor. As we stepped into the gymnasium, a pool of pulsating music and spinning color immersed us. A rainbow of lights twirled on a canopy of streamers draped from the ceiling like a circus tent, and the energy in the room thumped through my body with the beat of the music. Couples crowded the dance floor, an array of tulle and chiffon skirts swaying, curls piled on top of heads, skin shimmering with spray-on glitter—as though the sparkle from their rhinestone jewelry wasn’t enough.
My eyes squinted into the dizzying display of lights and fog and swept the room for Thomas. I finally found him, sitting beside Trisha on a row of chairs lining the wall. They were engaged in conversation. He sat leaning over, elbows resting on knees, but his head was turned toward Trisha. All I noticed about Trisha was her legs. If she was wearing a skirt, I couldn’t see it. Her legs were crossed, bare from her silver stilettos all the way to the sparkly fabric bunched in her lap. When she started tracing shapes on his back with her finger, I had to look away. That one fleeting glance at them was all it took to loosen the emotions I thought I’d bound up so tightly. Trying to steady myself, I tucked them back into place as I followed Dirk to the dance floor.
“Sweet! I love this song!” Dirk yelled as he turned to face me. I stood there in frozen awkwardness as Dirk broke into a bouncing, jerking rhythm. I knew I should dance, but I couldn’t seem to bring myself to do it. Dancing was for celebrating, and what did I have to celebrate? Thomas was being pawed by a half-naked girl, and I was on the dance floor with a wild hyena who was happily convulsing one second and heatedly staring at me with hungry eyes the next.
Soon a circle of clapping, bouncing kids had formed around Dirk, and I extricated myself to the outskirts of the crowd. Oblivious to my absence, Dirk just kept dancing, basking in the spotlight as he jerked and twisted, his face like an excited chimpanzee.
Watching him made me dizzy, so I went to the refreshment table to get some punch, wondering why I’d even bothered coming. As I sipped from my icy cup, someone stepped up beside me. I looked up to see Thomas, stunningly handsome in a tuxedo. My heart palpitated wildly at the sight of him, and I squared my shoulders, trying to appear unaffected. His dark hair framed his adorable face, and it was styled just right, like he’d taken the time to position each gelled lock in the perfect place.
“Aria,” he said softly. “You look . . . amazing.”
My cheeks warmed and I managed a little smile. “Same to you.”
His lips parted as if he was going to say more, but then he turned away to grab a couple of empty cups.
I wanted to turn away, to feign interest in the dance floor, but I couldn’t peel my eyes from him. I watched him fill the cups, ignoring the fact that he was filling one for Trisha. When they were full, he came back to my side, and his sweet, earthy scent made my knees weak.
“Looks like there’s only room on the dance floor for one,” he said with an annoyed tone.
Dirk was surrounded by a crowd, still having a one-man dance-off. “I hope he doesn’t mind dancing alone,” I said, “because I don’t think I can keep up.” Feeling Thomas’s eyes on me, I glanced up at him, quick enough to see his expression change from a troubled frown to thoughtful smile.
“Where’s Trisha?” I asked.
He nodded to the gym doors. “In the bathroom. She won’t admit it, but she’s not feeling very well. I’ve been trying to convince her to let me take her home, but she insists on staying.” Just then, Trisha appeared in the doorway. Her gaze homed in on us, and she loped toward us as quickly as her stilettos would allow.
It took all my effort to stay composed as she approached us. Her dress was look-at-me fuchsia, and the sequin-speckled skirt was so short I was almost embarrassed for her. As she came closer, I saw what Thomas meant about her not feeling well. Her eyes were bloodshot, her nose red and swollen, and even her thick makeup couldn’t hide her skin’s clammy sheen.
She sidled up to Thomas, wedging herself between us and looping her arm through his. He stiffened a little as he handed her a drink. Her glittered eyelids looked heavy as she took a sip and gazed up at him, and I wondered how much cold medicine she’d taken before the dance.
As the song ended and a slower one began, Dirk appeared at the punch bowl, all out of breath and face gleaming with sweat. He chugged two cups of punch, then hopped to my side. “That was awesome,” he said with a huge grin. “Did you see me?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I think everyone saw you.”
Trisha blew her nose into a wadded-up tissue, then tugged on Thomas’s arm until he followed her to the dance floor. Jealousy gnawed at me as she clasped her hands behind his neck, and once again I felt myself unraveling.
Dirk muttered something I didn’t understand, and when I looked at him, he was staring at Trisha, raw envy in his eyes. “I’ll make her sorry,” he said, seeming to forget I was standing beside him. “Come on, let’s dance.” He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to the dance floor, dramatically twirling me, then pulling me close. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket, and his shirt was moist with sweat. I inched my body away from his until I was at a more comfortable distance. He looked past me as we swayed, and from the hard set of his jaw and the anger in his eyes, I knew he was watching Trisha.
“Doesn’t Trisha look weird?” he asked.
“I think she has a cold.”
“She looks kinda like a zombie or something.” He let out a little laugh. “That would explain how she so heartlessly dumped me.”
As we rotated, Thomas and Trisha came into view. She had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clutching her fat tissue wad in one hand. She rested her head on his chest, her halo of blonde curls drowning his chin. But with the greenish circles under her eyes and the monstrous cold sore above her lip, I had to admit she did look slightly zombie-like. Only, instead of a stiff body, hers seemed limp in his arms, like he was holding her up. And the back of her dress was cut so low, the only place for Thomas to put his hands was on her bare skin.
My stomach recoiled against the image of them together, and my breaths turned shallow. Dirk must have thought I was reacting to him, because he pulled me closer and slid his hand lower on my back.
Thomas caught and held my gaze. His expression was restless, and a worried crease pinched his brows. Trisha demanded his attention and he dipped his head to hear her better. She raised her lips to his ear and whispered something. I looked away.
Things sped back up on the dance floor, and Thomas and Trisha made their way to the exit. Just before disappearing through the streamer-covered doorway, he turned and waved at me, mouthing something I couldn’t decipher.
I suddenly felt weak, and I found a chair and sunk into it. Dirk recommenced his gyrating dance-floor extravaganza, and I gripped the seat of the chair, trying to ground myself. The blaring dance music assaulted my frail emotions, pulsing under my skin and saturating my ears. Dirk found me and tried to pull me to my feet. I stayed planted on the chair, shaking my head in objection. “I don’t feel well.”
“Maybe you have what Trisha has,” he shouted over the music.
I nodded, wishing I had what Trisha had.
We were one of the last couples to leave the dance, and Dirk chattered the entire way home about what a hit he was on the dance floor, speculating about which photos would end up in the yearbook. As we finally pulled into my driveway, I reached for the door handle, but he stopped me by seizing my knee.
“Wait,” he said. “Are your parents home?”
His assumption that I still had two parents made me realize how much he didn’t know about me. “Yeah,” I lied. “I’d better go in.”
“Hold on. I’ll open your door.”
I opened my own door and climbed out as he strutted around the car. He held out his arm for me, but the night chill bit my skin, so I rubbed my arms instead of taking his. He followed me to the porch, and as I turned around to say good-bye, his face was suddenly inches fro
m mine.
“Don’t I get a hug or something?” he asked, his arms outstretched.
Before I could say no, he stepped up and snared me in his arms. As I peeled away from him, his chin was lifted and his lips slightly puckered. I tried to break free from his embrace, but his arms didn’t budge. With half-closed eyes, his face moved in, and I turned my head, leaning away as much as his grip would allow.
There was a creaking sound to my right, and with a start, we turned to see what had caused it.
Out of the shadow of the porch walked the sweetest sight I’d ever seen.
Thomas Ashby was on my porch, waiting for me.
ten
A warm sensation rushed through me, and suddenly the night didn’t seem so cold. My pulse did a double beat, and Dirk did a double take. “Dude. What are you doing here?”
Thomas cleared his throat as he stepped into the yellow glow of the porch light. “Aria’s dad was tired, so he asked me to stay up and wait for her—since we’re good friends.” He caught my eye and winked.
Dirk shot me a questioning look. I just shrugged.
“Um, ’kay. Can you give us a sec?” Dirk asked incredulously.
“Sure, take your time.” Thomas folded his arms across his chest.
Dirk stared at Thomas and lifted an eyebrow. “Dude. I mean, like, alone.”
“I’m supposed to make sure she gets inside safe,” Thomas said. “Now that she’s home, I’d better keep my eye on her until she’s inside.”
Dirk snorted and looked at me. “Whatever, Aria. See you at work tomorrow.” He turned and stormed back to his car.
We watched him peel away, then I turned back to Thomas. His hair was kind of messy, and I hoped his fingers had been the only ones combing through it.
“Where’s Trisha?” I asked.
“At home, probably in bed surrounded by tissues.”
“How long have you been here?”
“I don’t know. An hour? Maybe two? I came right after I dropped off Trisha. I thought you’d be home sooner.” His voice was laced with uneasiness, like he’d been worried about me.
“So what are you doing here?”
He leaned back against the porch post. “Well, Dirk was bragging in the locker room earlier about his list.”
“List?”
“Apparently he keeps a list of all the girls he’s kissed—twenty-nine so far.”
“You say that like it’s news. I’m surprised it’s not more.”
“I just wanted to make sure you weren’t number thirty.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking a step toward the door, “but I can defend myself. His lips weren’t coming near mine.”
“But they were. I was watching.”
“Why?” I spun around to face him. “Why do you care if he kisses me?” My tone was harsher than I intended. I wasn’t angry. I was thrilled that he was here, that he cared. But I had to know if he was just looking out for a friend, or if he was jealous because his feelings extended beyond friendship.
“Well, I . . .” He scratched the back of his head and sighed. He pursed his lips and looked down, nervously kicking the floor with the tip of his black dress shoe.
“Just tell me why you’re really here.”
His expression was troubled and he chewed on his lip like he was trying to figure out what to say. After a long moment, he took a couple steps toward me until he was standing just inches away. “I’m here because . . . I didn’t get a chance to dance with the girl I really wanted to dance with.” He gently laid his hand on my upper arm, and my pulse stuttered as his fingers trailed down my arm to my hand, where they fastened to the curve of my palm.
My lips parted and the shallow breaths passing through them quickened. An electric current ran down my arms, making the hairs stand on end. “Are you”—I swallowed, trying to restore some moisture to my mouth—“providing the music?”
He pressed my hand to his heart, making my own heart swell and rise from its natural place, and he rested his other hand on my hip and closed the small gap between us.
A soft, sweet melody hummed from his lips, and with each sway of our bodies, he drew me nearer to him. He lowered his head and pressed his jaw to my temple. My heart beat furiously inside my chest, and I nuzzled into him, breathing in his woodsy scent mixed with a hint of musky cologne. I closed my eyes and took in every sensation, in awe of what it was like to be held, touched, wanted.
This wasn’t a crush or a fleeting infatuation. I could feel every flicker of his existence—the sound of his voice humming in my ear, his callused hand wrapped around mine, the curve of his shoulder as my hand clung to it—carve into my heart, marking it indelibly his. And I pleaded into the night, Please let him love me too.
He gazed down at me, his bright blue eyes sparkling with what seemed to reflect everything I was feeling. We stopped swaying, and he released my hand to tuck a stray tendril of hair behind my ear. The sensation of his fingers against my cheek caused a dizzying current to race through me, and I clutched the fabric of his tuxedo jacket to steady myself.
“Thomas,” I said, “I have to be honest. I don’t understand. You say you don’t date, but you spend all this time with me, and then you go to the dance with Trisha. And now you’re dancing with me?” I released his jacket and took a small step back. “Do you have any idea how confusing you are? You’re like one of those imponderable questions, like ‘which came first, the chicken or the egg?’ ”
“I don’t mean to confuse you.” He sighed and dropped his hand from my waist, and I suddenly felt cold and empty. “I guess that’s why I’m here—I want you to know how I feel.”
A suspenseful silence hung over us, but instead of quelling it, he leaned back against the porch post and hooked his thumbs into his pants pockets. My stomach tightened, and my fingers found a piece of lace on my hip and began twisting it. “And,” I prompted, “how do you feel?”
His lips straightened into a thoughtful frown. “When I came to live here, I didn’t want to get involved with anyone. I knew we wouldn’t be here for long, and . . . there were some things in my past that kept me from wanting to get too close to anyone.” He paused, pinning me with a gaze and a little smile. “But then I met you. And I found myself wanting to be around you. And the more time I spend with you, the harder it is for me to stay away from you.”
“But if you like being around me, then why go to the dance with Trisha?”
“Because Trisha said you were going with Dirk.”
“But—”
“Look, don’t think I’m a stalker, okay? But Trisha made it sound like we were doubling with you, and I decided it was the only way I could keep an eye on you. I didn’t want Dirk . . . I don’t know . . . taking advantage of you.” He looked down, like he was embarrassed for feeling this way. I suppressed a smile, trying to hide the sudden wave of hope that surged inside me.
He eyed my fingers, which were still twisting the piece of lace. With a smile, he came and gently pried the lace from my fingers, unraveling it and smoothing it out over my hip. “The truth is,” he murmured, “I love being with you. You make me feel happy, at peace, like . . . like a part of me that’s been missing has been found and locked into place. And when I’m away from you, that part goes missing again.”
I couldn’t speak. I was too busy trying to process his beautiful words.
“I care about you. And I don’t want to cause you heartache or confusion. I don’t want you to ever have to question my feelings for you, because that’s not fair to you.” He dropped his hand and sighed. “I thought I’d be okay just being your friend. But I can’t just sit back and watch you get snatched up by someone else.”
“I wouldn’t have let Dirk snatch me up.”
“I know. But what about the next guy? If I wait too long, someone else will come along, and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting not offering you my heart when I had the chance.”
He took my hand and enfolded it in his. “What I’m trying to say is, even thou
gh I don’t feel good enough for you, I want to be with you. And I’m hoping you’ll tell me that you want to be with me too.”
His words brought tears to my eyes, and I didn’t bother trying to swallow them back. I was the one he wanted, and he’d wanted me all along. It seemed too good to be true, but I let his words linger in my heart, where I fastened them down safely to stay.
“Aria, say something,” he pleaded.
“Thomas,” I whispered as a tear trickled down my cheek, “how could I not want to be with you? You’re the most wonderful person I’ve ever met.”
He shook his head and his face turned somber, as though musing on some dark memory. “You don’t know everything about me.”
I wanted to ask what he meant, but it didn’t seem like the right time. His past no longer mattered anyway. “I know enough. And I know who you are,” I said, pressing my fingertip over his heart.
“Oh?” With his thumb, he brushed away my tears. “Who am I?”
I sighed and felt a warm blush burning in my cheeks. “You’re just plain good. You’re solid, like a steady, bright star fixed in the sky.”
He gave a smile that reached into his eyes, making them shine. “Is that what you see?”
“Yes. But that’s not all.”
“No? What else then?”
I opened his hand in mine, tracing a circle in his palm as I tried to find the right words. “You’re a melody . . . that plays over and over in my heart.”
His smile widened, then slowly straightened. He lowered his forehead until it rested on mine. His face was so close to mine now, I could feel his warm breath on my lips. It took all my strength to resist the urge to rise on my toes and bring our mouths together. Instead, I listened to my pulse thrumming in my chest, counted the breaths passing through his slightly opened lips, and waited.
He slid his fingers under my chin and tipped my head, just enough that our lips met. His kiss was warm and tender, and his lips were sweet. Not sweet like sugar, but like Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.