The Prom Kiss
Briarwood High Series
Maggie Dallen
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Epilogue
Senior Week Crush
About the Author
Chapter One
Tina
There was nothing more embarrassing than being caught crying in the girls' bathroom.
But then again, if you couldn't come up with anywhere more private to lose your cool, then you kind of had it coming. I mean, let's face it. If you were crying in the girls' room, you probably wanted to get caught. I knew a lot of girls who loved that kind of attention.
Boo hoo, my boyfriend broke up with me. Or, Poor me, no one asked me to the dance.
Ugh. Have a little dignity.
I had no sympathy for those girls who put their pity parties on display all for the sake of attention.
So I guess I should have said, for me there was nothing more embarrassing than getting caught crying in the bathroom. Which was why, when I couldn’t hold back the flood of tears any longer, I did what any sane, proud, ready-to-weep student would do and hid in a closet. It was a stockroom, really, filled with miscellaneous band equipment and some other crap no one wanted.
It was the perfect hiding spot as I dealt with the latest brutal heartbreak, delivered mercilessly as always by Alex, my cheating flirt of a boyfriend—no, ex-boyfriend.
There I was, minding my own business and sobbing quietly when the door jarred open so suddenly I sat up straight like I’d just been electrocuted.
The intruder was backlit since he was coming from the brightly lit hallway. I was sitting cross-legged in the corner of the pitch-dark storeroom.
Holy crap. I’d been caught.
After that initial shock, humiliation washed over me in waves as the intruder just stood there gawking.
“Get out!” My voice came out too screechy and high-pitched. The sound of it ringing in that small room only added to my embarrassment. My hands curled into fists in my lap. I was still folded up cross-legged in the corner. That had made me feel all snug and safe a minute ago but now I was trapped as this weirdo stalker stood there and stared.
And then he flipped on a light I hadn’t known was there and suddenly I was blinking at the sudden jarring light. “What are you doing? Turn it off!”
God, I sounded like a banshee…or some sort of mutant vampire that was allergic to fluorescent light rather than sunlight. Either way, I was overreacting but I couldn’t help it.
I hated for anyone to see me crying, and now that I could see who was standing there staring at me in obvious shock, my humiliation had escalated a million times over.
Julian. Julian Morris. AKA emo loser. A fellow senior, he’d transferred to Briarwood last year from…I don’t know, somewhere.
That was pretty much all I knew about him. The only reason I remembered when he’d transferred was because the arrival of any new hot guy always caused a major stir among my friends.
And he was hot. Sort of. If you liked that geek vibe, ala Seth Cohen from The O.C. He was like a tall, lanky version of Seth, but with black-rimmed glasses and an ever-present smirk.
I hated him on principle. He was one of those kids who thought he was too cool for the cool crowd. You know the type. A loner who typically kept to himself and who clearly judged the rest of us who actually cared about our school and our status. As far as I knew he had one friend. One. Alice Kern, who was our quarterback Brian Kirkland’s girlfriend. She was another weirdo. But she was nice at least, and she made Brian happy, which in turn made me happy. Brian was a good guy, he deserved to be happy.
This guy, though…he was still watching me and he was definitely not happy.
“What are you doing in here?” His tone held a world of disgust, as if he’d just found me dissecting cute fuzzy kittens in this stockroom rather than crying like a loser.
“Crocheting a toaster cozy,” I shot back with just as much disdain. “What does it look like?”
He squinted a bit as he took in my red nose and my puffy eyes.
Have I mentioned how humiliating this was? Yeah, it freakin’ sucked. “Seen enough?” I snapped. If I’d had anything at hand I would have thrown it at his head. I had to settle for giving him my fiercest glare. “Get out, freak.”
He started to turn, one hand on the doorknob. Close it. Close it. My ESP apparently had the opposite effect. He hesitated.
Dammit. I’d lost all track of time but surely the bell would ring any minute now and that hallway behind him would flood with students. Anyone walking past would have a perfect view of me in all my weeping glory.
Get out, get out, get out!
He licked his lips as he glanced out into the hallway and then back to me, conflicted. Like he didn’t know if he really ought to turn his back on a girl who was crying in the dark.
Oh Lord, please spare me from loner geeks with a savior complex. I let out an impatient exhale and spoke to him in the slow, too-sugary voice I reserved for my little brother and idiots. “Turn off the light and go back the way you came,” I said. I dropped the fake sweet. “And I swear to God, if you tell anyone about this, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
Any sane Briarwood student would have turned white at the venom in my voice, and gone running in the other direction.
Most would. Julian did not.
He ignored my threat and my command. For a second I wondered if he was deaf because he did the exact opposite of what I’d told him to do.
With a weary sigh, he shut the door behind him, closing us both into the well-lit but thoroughly stocked walk-in closet. There was no room for him to go so he just hovered there awkwardly while I hunched further into my corner.
“Are you all right?” His voice was gruff. He wasn’t concerned, not really. He was just doing what he thought he should.
“Of course I’m all right. Never been better. Why do you ask?” I rolled my eyes on the off chance he hadn’t picked up on the sarcasm.
His lips twitched upward a bit before he seemed to catch himself. “Look, I don’t know what I’m supposed to say here to make you feel better but—”
“You’re not supposed to say anything,” I said. “You’re supposed to leave me alone or—” I couldn’t finish my threat. My throat closed up with a choking sensation, like I was drowning.
Oh no, not now. Please not now.
Too late. It was here. Panic. Anxiety. I hated this sensation more than almost anything in the world. The only thing I hated more was for someone else to see my descent into crazy. I fought for air, just enough to speak. I swallowed down the panic, focusing on anger instead that this loser was still here, watching me like I was an exhibit at the zoo.
Panic bad. Rage good.
“What are you still doing here? Stare at someone else if that’s your thing, but leave me the hell alone.”
I needed him to leave. Now. But instead he shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the door.
The sound of my breathing, all frantic and out of control, was the only noise in the room. I swallowed convulsively as I tried to slow my breathing.
It didn’t work. It never worked.
“Stick your head between your legs,” he said.
“You stick your head between your legs,” I muttered. It lacked the right amount of heat and I heard his short huff of laughter.
I wasn’t trying to be funny.
I looked down at my crossed legs and grit my teeth. That just made my jaw hurt as my teeth ground together, my hands clenching and
unclenching convulsively.
I heard another sigh from my least favorite gawker before he crossed the room. I kept my eyes on my knees, tensing even more as he approached. Tears threatened again, but this time it wasn’t over Alex. It was because of this guy. Julian freakin’ Morris. Why did he have to witness this humiliation?
He paused beside me and I was weak. Useless. It was always this way when a panic attack hit. My body was no longer under my control. My heart was pounding too fast against my ribcage, my breath was coming too fast and shallow, my muscles were spasming, contracting painfully over and over again.
Julian’s large hand on my back was gentle but insistent. He was pushing me forward and I was too far gone to protest.
Next thing I knew my head was between my knees and he was methodically stroking my back. “Easy,” he said quietly. “Breathe in and out. Just like that.”
He kept talking softly but I couldn’t make out the words through the sound of the blood rushing in my ears. But his tone was calming. Low, soft, soothing. I focused on the sound of that and slowly but surely the panic subsided. First my muscles stopped contracting, and then my jaw unclenched, and finally my breathing started to feel somewhat close to normal.
I stayed slumped over though. Partly because I was too exhausted to move. One thing no one tells you about panic attacks? They’re ridiculously tiring. Like I’d just gone for a run after taking an intense barre class kind of exhaustion. My muscles were pretty much jelly and I knew that if I sat up I’d be shaky and weak.
Which was the other reason I stayed curled up in a ball for too long. Once I sat up I’d have to face the guy behind the voice.
While his voice was soothing and all, his presence was still a disaster. I barely knew this guy but I knew him well enough to know that he hated me. Which was fine. Lots of people hated me. That was the price of popularity.
He didn’t know me any more than I knew him but he was judge and jury, with his mocking smirks and his condescending attitude. I knew his type, and guys like him looked down on girls like me.
Whatever, I didn’t care. Usually. But right now, knowing that a guy like him had just witnessed my humiliation? Horror took the place of panic. After making it through senior year as the queen bee of this school, I’d just handed an enemy the perfect weapon to take me down.
Way to go, Tina.
But sitting there with my head between my legs and hiding like a coward was so not me. That temporary foray into cowardice was just an aftereffect of the stupid panic attack.
My mom kept trying to put me on meds and I’ve refused every time, but maybe it was time to consider it. I mean, up until now I’d been lucky. I’d never been caught. But now that I have…
I sat up slowly. Now I had to deal with the consequences. I had to neutralize the situation before it got out of hand.
When I was sitting up fully, I uncrossed my legs and went to stand.
Stupid legs and their stupid shaking. I dropped back down and crossed my arms, tilting my head back to glare up at the guy who’d witnessed my meltdown. “You can go now,” I said.
That came out harsher than intended. Being nasty to this guy was not helping matters, but right now it was hard to focus on a strategy to deal with his inevitable talking when it took everything in my power not to crumple into a ball again and resume weeping.
But I would never be so pathetic. Not in front of this guy, at least.
He scowled down at me, his dark eyes surprisingly concerned behind those dorky hipster glasses. “Are you going to be all right?”
I let out a huff of air that was close to a laugh. But really, he’d kind of surprised me. And that in itself was surprising. People rarely surprised me. “Why, are you worried about me?”
My tone was taunting because we both knew he didn’t care about me. He was just itching to run back to his friends—sorry, friend, singular—and tell her all about how the big bad mean girl went off the deep end in a stockroom.
But he didn’t run. He plopped down onto the floor beside me. Then he casually draped an arm around my shoulders like it was no big deal and pulled me to him so I was snuggled against his chest.
“What—what are you doing?” I tried to push myself away but his arm was surprisingly strong and I was still ridiculously weak.
I heard his exasperated sigh through his chest. He wasn’t any happier with this situation than I was, I realized. So why the hell was he cuddling me like we were friends or something.
“Just try and relax,” he said. “You’ll feel better soon.”
Don’t ask me why but I complied. I never took orders from anyone, least of all loner geeks with a superiority complex, but I chalked my odd compliance up to the fact that I was still shaking like a leaf.
So I did what he said. I relaxed. I let him hold me, which was weird, obviously. I mean, I was so not a snuggler. Not even with Alex. If we weren’t making out then we were fighting.
Alex and I were like a faulty faucet. We were either scalding hot or ice cold. We didn’t know how to do lukewarm. Which was fine. That was just how we were. Except right now, after what felt like the millionth breakup, the millionth heartbreak, the millionth betrayal…I was so tired of the extremes. I just wanted to take a nice warm bath…metaphorically speaking. But also literally. I was freezing. That always happened after anxiety attacks.
My shivering grew more intense and Julian started stroking a hand up and down my bare arm. I was wearing my cheerleading uniform for the last pep rally of the year. The last one of my life.
That thought made tears sting the back of my eyes but I bit my tongue hard to keep them at bay.
The show I gave this guy was bad enough, I didn’t have to add more tears to the mix.
Instead I focused on breathing, on the sound of his heartbeat beneath the warm, hard chest, the feel of his hand gently stroking my arm.
I don’t know how long we sat there but it was…nice.
Weird, but nice.
Until I came back to my senses and remembered who exactly was being nice and why. But even then I couldn’t bring myself to pull away. I was so cold and he was so warm. My body felt so tired and weak and he was so solid and…comfortable.
So this was why people liked to cuddle.
Huh.
“Why are you doing this?” I finally asked.
“Doing what?” His voice reverberated through his chest.
I pulled back just far enough that I could tilt my head back and see him. I arched my brows. “Really? Doing what? Are you really going to try and pretend that you always skip class to comfort random crying girls you happen upon in closets?”
He laughed and his smile took me by surprise. I found myself staring in shock. He had a nice smile.
No, not nice.
Hot.
He had a hottie smile. It made this geek look surprisingly sexy—all crinkly eyes and cute dimples.
I looked away quickly and let him pull me back in for some more snuggling.
This was so not a guy I wanted to find attractive. He might be cuddling me all sweetly now, but give him half a second and he’d be spilling the news to the first person he saw.
Cuddles or no cuddles, cute smile or not—this guy was the enemy.
“Want to tell me what you’re so upset about?” he asked.
I opened my mouth to shoot him down, but then I clamped it shut. Because oddly enough, I did. I wouldn’t, obviously, but I was tempted. There was something so very cozy about being alone together in this room, cuddling but not looking at each other. Plus, he was still doing that stroking thing that was lulling me into submission. I just wanted to cuddle in closer and tell him all of my problems.
Ugh. That was so not going to happen.
“So what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Trying to make you feel better,” he said, his tone filled with the unspoken “duh.”
I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see. “Before that. What brought you to my neck of the woods?”
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My joking tone was too forced and I cringed at the awkwardness of it. But really, you try acting cool after a monumental meltdown and while cuddling with a near stranger.
The whole situation was awkward in the extreme.
He didn’t comment on the awkwardness but I felt him stiffen as he said, “I just came in here to be alone for a bit.”
“Aren’t you always alone?” I felt a little guilty for the unpleasantness in my tone. I might have had a reputation for being a mean girl, but I prided myself on not really being cruel. I didn’t pick on the underdogs, I just played the game like everyone else.
But unlike all the others, I played to win.
Julian was the type I’d typically ignore since he wasn’t a player in the game. He wasn’t so much a loser—he was probably considered cool in his little world. But he was on the outside at Briarwood. He had loner geek written all over him.
But today he’d gone and watched me lose it so now he was a threat, whether he meant to be or not.
He didn’t seem offended by my comment when he finally replied, “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I don’t have a lot of friends, but it’s still kind of hard to find alone time at Briarwood.”
I made a small sound of agreement. I couldn’t argue that since I’d just been discovered hiding in a closet. “So what do you need to be alone for?” I asked.
“What do you need to be alone for?”
I glared up at his chin. The answer was obvious. I’d come in here to cry. “I knew it was just a matter of time before you threw that in my face.”
He sighed again. I’d lost count of how many times he’d made that exasperated sound. I found myself wondering if he was a habitual sigher or if it was just me.
Probably me. I had that kind of effect on people.
“Sorry,” he said. I felt his body shift beneath me slightly as he lifted his free hand and rubbed at his eyes beneath his glasses. “I’m having a crappy day too. I’d normally be better at this whole comforting thing.”
The Prom Kiss Page 1