“Like hell,” she said, wishing she didn’t sound so much like her mother every time she felt threatened.
He sighed. “Yeah, okay. Might as well get it out.”
But before either of them could say what was on their minds, Jeremiah approached the table, setting down a plated burger and fries for each. Jessica’s was the usual double with extra cheese, no mustard that she ordered each time she came, and Chris’s was what had jokingly become known as the Rowdy Riley and consisted of four patties stacked with a slice of cheese on top of every one. It was served with a small dish of ketchup, which was what he dipped portions into before taking each bite.
But he didn’t immediately dig in like he usually would. Instead, he thanked Jeremiah who nodded and then headed back into the kitchen, leaving them with the tough decision to talk or eat.
Chris made the call. “I’m not going to Tech,” he said. “I should have told you sooner, and I feel bad, because I know you said you’d think about it so we could go to school together, but I changed at the last second and forgot to tell you, and now it’s probably too late because you’ve already accepted at Tech. But I want you to know I’m okay with the idea of a long-distance relationship, so—”
“Wait.” She held up a hand to stop him. “Where are you going instead?”
“They offered me a full ride and my odds of becoming the starting QB by sophomore year looked more promising.”
“Okay, fine. That’s great. But where are you going?”
He paused and took a deep breath. “Texas State.”
She chuckled. “No shit.”
He looked like he was going to be sick. “Jessica. I promise, we can make it work. I want to make it work.”
“Well no shit we can make it work,” she said. “I’m going to Texas State, too.”
He tucked in his chin and arched an eyebrow at her. “Huh? But I thought—”
“Nope. I changed last minute, too.”
“Really? But I thought you didn’t want to live on a fault line.”
She shrugged. “God promised me it was inactive.”
Chris nodded and when he flattened his burger with the palm of his hand before taking his first bite, she knew he was just trying to buy himself some time to reassess everything.
She started on her burger, despite the restriction of the dress around her middle.
Chris swallowed his first large bite. “So we’re going to Texas State together.”
Jess nodded. “I guess so.”
“That’s awesome.”
“Yeah, it is.”
As she took another bite of her burger, he just happened to mention, “I love you.”
She choked, but managed not to die, which was good, she supposed. She crammed the unchewed piece into her cheek. “What?”
“I love you.” He waited patiently, wearing the same determined look she’d seen on him before each state championship.
Her mouth was hanging open. She should do something about that. She shut it. “I …” She took a deep breath. “I love you, too.”
Chris’s intensity deflated and he let his breath out in a whoosh. Saying it back was the right choice—she knew that instantly. Two and a half years of dancing around it was long enough. Now she just had to decide if she really meant it. And what it really meant.
It did lighten the mood a bit, like a burden had been lifted off both of them, and Chris was able to dive into the story of how he’d managed to convince, or more aptly guilt, Jeremiah into letting him reserve the restaurant for a full hour on a Saturday night. Jessica laughed along at Chris’s wild gesturing, and when the hour was finally up, she wished he’d managed to drag out the reservation longer, because now came the event she’d been dreading for months, ever since it first occurred to her that she would have to attend it.
Now came senior prom.
* * *
The plan had been to arrive fashionably late to prom so they weren’t the first ones there. Their reservation at Gordon’s ended thirty minutes after the dance was supposed to begin, so Jess felt good about the timing. The gym would already be packed, and the two of them could slip in unnoticed without incident. But when they pulled into the Mooremont parking lot and were able to find parking in the first two rows, Jessica felt less confident.
“It was supposed to start at 7:30, right?” she asked.
Chris nodded. “Yeah, I thought so.”
“Where is everybody?”
He shrugged. “Fashionably late? You want to wait until more people show up?”
She looked around at the other cars and spotted Miranda’s. “No, I don’t want to leave Miranda hanging. Hard enough going stag to prom, but to have to sit around with almost no one else must be unbearable.”
Jessica’s assumptions were proven wrong on two accounts once she entered the gym that had been redecorated to feel like a Caribbean beach. (Or what teenagers who’ve never seen a Caribbean beach assume one would look like. The fake grass and inflatable palm trees weren’t exactly romantic. Neither were the LED tiki torches that lined the walls or the coconut shell candy dishes along the refreshment table.)
Jessica’s first wrong assumption was that few cars in the parking lot meant few people inside. As it turned out, the majority of her classmates were already there, dancing with their dates, some of whom she recognized, some of whom must have been from neighboring towns. It made sense, she supposed, that most of them wouldn’t have driven themselves, considering how many had spent the past month talking about how hammered they planned on being for the event.
The second wrong assumption was that Miranda would be alone and possibly feeling sorry for herself for not having a date to prom. Jess realized she was off on that account as soon as she glimpsed Miranda through a dense forest of male classmates that congregated around her as she regaled them with a story that Jess could only guess at.
When Miranda spotted Jessica and Chris, she paused in her animated storytelling and pushed her way through her mentourage to run over to greet them.
The wispy powerhouse of a pitcher looked like a classic Hollywood starlet with her silky, form-fitting light blue ankle-length dress, the sides of her white-blonde hair swept back into a barrette to fall in long tendrils down her back. Jessica had never seen Miranda in makeup, but she wore it well—much better than Jessica, who’d felt like a clown the instant she’d seen herself in the mirror. With the exception of Miranda’s shimmery eye shadow, it didn’t even look like she was wearing makeup; it just looked like she was extremely pretty.
“Hey! How was dinner?”
“Hey … good,” Jess replied automatically as she leaned forward to hug her best friend.
When Miranda pulled back and then stepped toward Chris, Jessica felt something twist in her gut just before he leaned forward and gave her a hug.
He pulled back and looked approvingly at Miranda. “You look pretty.”
Another twist. Maybe the Gordon’s wasn’t sitting well.
“Thanks! And you look handsome. Like James Bond or something,” Miranda added cheerily.
“That’s what I said,” Jessica interjected.
Chris tilted his head to the side. “Well, you said I looked like a spy.”
“Same thing.”
“Not the same.”
Miranda’s eyes darted back and forth between Jess and Chris. “Uh … they have good punch. I’m fairly certain it’s not spiked. Or not with anything that has a taste.”
“Good enough for me,” Chris said. “Lead the way.”
By the time nine o’clock rolled around, there was almost no space to move in the packed gym. The bass rattled in Jessica’s chest as she looked around the room and wondered if she’d miss these people or if, on the whole, she’d be glad to leave. They were all she’d ever known, after all. Maybe this was a good as it got? Maybe she wouldn’t understand how much they meant to her until she could no longer see them every day.
She danced with Chris on the slow songs, but neither were partic
ularly keen on grinding, so when the music sped up, they took a break to stand on the edge of the gyrating crowd, holding hands. Jessica was torn between telling Miranda that they’d finally said, I love you or taking that tidbit to the grave with her. Even just thinking about it created a hot buzzing in her brain and left her feeling inexplicably embarrassed.
When the third fast song in a row began to play, Chris leaned close and said, “Follow me,” and then led her through the crowd and to the doors leading to the hallway. Chris went to open it, but a freshman teacher, who had spent the evening looking less than thrilled at being here on a Saturday night, stepped in front of him. “No one in and out,” she said.
“It’s just for a second. I just forgot something in my truck.”
The teacher rolled her eyes. “Sure. You and everyone else.”
The door opened suddenly in front of them, and Jess jumped back, startled. Mrs. Thomas appeared in the doorway, beaming amicably at Jess, as usual. “Oh, look who it is! Don’t you two look lovely?”
“Thanks,” Jess said. Chris stayed silent.
“Coming out?” asked Principal Thomas, pulling the door wider and holding it for them.
“Yeah,” said Chris. Then he added, “Just forgot something in the truck.”
Mrs. Thomas waved him off. “No worries. Hurry back. They’re announcing the prom king and queen in a few.” She winked conspiratorially, and Jessica and Chris moved past her before she entered into the gym and the door closed behind her, shutting out the noise.
“You don’t think …” Jess began, afraid to even vocalize her suspicion. Part of her wanted it to happen, but part of her knew it wouldn’t work out well for her.
“What, prom king and queen? Us?”
She nodded.
“Uh, yeah. It’s a shoo-in.”
“Damn.”
“Nah, it won’t be so bad.” He led her down the hallway away from the parking lot.
“Wait, where are we going?”
It was only a short walk before she found out.
“He fixed the lock at the start of last year, though,” she said.
Chris reached into his tux and pulled out a key. “Yep. And he gave this to me yesterday.” He turned and unlocked the door to Coach Rex’s office.
So Chris and Rex had plotted behind her back. She stepped in and he closed the door behind her, locking it. “I thought it might be fun to make out where we first kissed.”
Chris was on his game tonight, that was for sure. She turned toward him, fingering her clutch nervously, but when her eyes locked onto his, the nervousness melted away.
Good God, he was hot. At some point in the past few months, he’d started to look like a man. And the tux helped.
He grabbed the clutch from her and tossed it to the side. It landed on the cement floor a split second before he grabbed her and pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers, reminding her for the millionth time that he was unbelievably well-endowed as he pressed said endowment against her stomach.
Except this time it didn’t scare her.
She felt her stomach tighten, sure, but it was in a different way than before.
Yes! She felt her heart flutter in her chest. Yes! Yes! Yes! Hell yes! The realization made her feel suddenly lightheaded, but luckily she was able to relax and let Chris’s strong arms keep her on her feet.
He broke the kiss and looked down into her eyes. “God damn, Jess, all I’ve been able to think about all week is—” Something caught his attention, and he turned his head toward it. It was something on the ground. “That,” he said.
Jess turned to see what it was.
The impact had caused her overstuffed clutch to pop open, and the roll of condoms dangled out.
She looked back at him. While he didn’t seem put out, he did seem surprised. “Goddamn, Jess. I mean, I guess we’re on the same page, but … goddamn. You don’t mess around.”
She grimaced. “Better safe than sorry?”
He laughed and then bit his lip. “Damn, Jess. I want to take you in the back of my truck right now”—she understood that was intended to be romantic—“but we need to go knock out the prom stuff first. Then…” He let the insinuation hang in the air, and she understood that, too.
Then they would lose their virginity together.
The plan sounded like a good one. It finally sounded like a good one.
Praise whoever!
When they headed back into the gym, Miranda was slow-dancing with Lewis Walker, yet another reminder that Jessica hadn’t upheld her duties as best friend the way she should. Last she’d heard, Miranda still hated Lewis. Had they gotten back together?
Emma and Sandra walked onto the small stage where the DJ had set up, and after flipping their stiff, styled hair an absurd amount of times and flashing toothy grins and pretending they didn’t even realize they were on stage and everyone was looking at them, the DJ paused the music and handed them a microphone, which Emma held while Sandra held Emma’s wrist to keep the microphone where she could also speak through it.
“Okay everyone,” Emma said. “As president”—she pointed at herself—“and vice president”—she gestured vaguely at Sandra—“of the senior class, we have a very important announcement to make. The ballots are tallied, and we’re ready to announce the prom king and queen of Mooremont!” Emma led the clapping, slapping her hand against the microphone, causing thuds to blast out from the speakers. The DJ shut his eyes to brace against the equipment abuse.
“But first, the other members of the court,” Sandra said. She looked out into the crowd and shielded her eyes. “Mom?” she said, not into the microphone.
Mrs. Thomas came scurrying up to the stage, a stack of envelopes in her hand, which she waved above her head. “Official results!” she said, and handed the envelopes to her daughter.
“Principal Thomas counted these herself,” Emma explained, “because some people seemed concerned that the results might not be accurate otherwise.” Her eyes fell specifically on one person in the crowd, though from where Jessica and Chris stood by the refreshment table, it was hard to tell who had apparently called into question Emma’s (no doubt questionable) integrity.
Sandra grabbed Emma’s wrist again and pulled the mic to her mouth. “The duke and duchess are the boy and girl who received the third most votes for prom king and queen. This year’s duke is …” She drew out the suspense as she opened the envelope and pulled out the result, but Jess knew for a fact no one wanted to be anything other than King or Queen. Duke was a consolation gift that was more embarrassing to win than not winning anything. “Trent Wurst!” Sandra announced it like anyone would want to hear it.
But Trent seemed to consider it validation enough, and he strutted onto the stage to receive his sash, which Emma grabbed from the table behind her and threw over his shoulder. Subdued clapping welcomed him into the annals of Mooremont High history.
Sandra began on the second envelope. “And this year’s duchess is …” She pulled out the results and grinned, presumably because it wasn’t her. “Courtney Wurst!”
Jess was unable to stifle her laugh, but that was okay, because it was drowned out by the awkward laughter of everyone else in the gym. Once Courtney had received her sash, she stood on stage next to her twin, both their arms folded across their chests. His sister’s award seemed to have tainted his, and Jess wondered for the first time if maybe the Wurst twins hated one another.
“Okay!” said Sandra. “And now moving on to the prince and princess!”
“Or as they say in Italy, the principe and principessa,” added Emma, who had spent spring break in Rome with her family and was now apparently an honorary Italian.
Sandra opened another envelope. “And the prince is …” She pulled out the note and Jessica could spot her distaste, even from this distance. “Greg Burns?”
Jess knew she’d spotted Greg in the gym earlier, but no one approached the stage. The other seniors started to get antsy and look around, including Emma and S
andra. Then Emma pointed to someone. “Greg. Get up here.”
Greg took his time coming onto the stage, and Jess suspected he was high as a kite as Emma slipped a small crown onto his head and herded him to the side of the stage by Courtney.
“The princess,” Sandra said, clearly wanting to move on, “is …”
Jessica shut her eyes. Please not me, please not me …
“Emma Sanderson!”
Emma pretended to be excited, though it was obvious she’d been hoping for queen. She’d certainly been campaigning hard enough for it.
She scurried over to the table and popped on the princess tiara before plastering a smile on her face.
“Okay, and now for the big stuff! This year’s prom king and queen!”
The crowd seemed excited enough, clapping, some whooping, a male classmate shouting the obligatory, “Take it off!” at the temporary emcees.
Sandra opened the envelope as she breathed deeply. “This year’s prom king is …” She pulled it out and said quickly, “Chris Riley.”
Chris leaned down and kissed Jessica quickly. “Told ya,” he said before cutting his way through the crowd and hopping on stage to receive his crown and scepter.
Seeing him up there, waiting for a queen, Jess realized that she actually did want to win that title, so she could stand next to him and get a little glory. It would also mean that her classmates didn’t all actively hate her like she suspected.
But Sandra still hadn’t received any honorary titles yet, and it seemed unlikely that the entire class would overlook her. Jessica tried not to think too hard about the smug look on Sandra’s face if she got to be Jessica’s boyfriend’s queen.
Sandra seemed to think it likely, at least, as she took her time coyly opening the envelope and said, “And this year’s prom queen is …”
Please don’t let it be Sandra, please don’t let it be Sandra …
Sandra slipped the paper out slowly, and when her eyes fell on it, she scrunched her brows together in a look that was a mixture of disappointment and confusion.
“Miranda Forte?”
The crowd didn’t seem at all confused about it, and applauded enthusiastically, especially the men who’d been swarming her all night.
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