“Then what is it?” I jump off my skateboard so I can retrieve Leo’s skateboard from the grass since his hands are full. “Maybe I should buy one for Alex.”
“No, you should not.”
“It’s that bad?”
“It’s not bad or good. It’s … thought-provoking.” When I press him further, Leo snaps at me, “You’re suffocating me again, Dakota.”
I put my hands up. “Oh-kay, I’ll get out of your business. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
“Yeah. You too.” Leo’s voice sounds flat, and his shoulders slump as he rolls away.
* * *
Nevaeh will be proud. I brought a purse with me tonight. Mostly, it’s so I could carry Alex’s gift inside it. If I give it to him.
“Looking good, Alex,” Stephanie says when Alex comes out of the changing room with the first of the four tuxes on.
“Come over here, son.” Phil hails Alex from across the large tuxedo store, which is closed tonight for our invasion. After we signed autographs and took selfies with the owners, of course. “Dakota too.”
I leave our makeshift hair and makeup station and smooth down the black-and-white, retro, A-line party dress I’m wearing. I carry the ridiculously high, peep-toe, black patent leather heels in my hand as I walk across the store.
“Still think I should be wearing a tux too,” I say when I join them.
“Please don’t start with that again.” Phil rubs his temples. “A Class Act Tuxedo Company wants a good-looking boy in a tux. That’s what they’re going to get. Everybody is going to do their job with happy faces, right?”
I do jazz hands around my fake smile. Phil shakes his head and walks away.
“Is it cringe to admit that Ms. Stephanie had to give me a crash course on modeling yesterday?” Alex takes my highly manicured hand and gives it a kiss. “I mean, really, how hard is it to stand in one spot? It took me three hours to get it down, but here I am, looking like James Bond and ready to be your Ken doll.”
“I’m sorry. I should have warned you that I come with a lot of social-life-killing baggage.”
Alex shrugs. “It’s worth it.”
“We’re burning daylight here, people!” Phil yells across the store. “Lights up. Alex on set. Now.”
“The sun went down twenty minutes ago, Phil,” I say to yank his chain. Stephanie hushes me.
Mom and Dad leave Stephanie in charge as they celebrate an unromantic Valentine’s Day with the owner of A Class Act Tuxedo Company and her husband at a restaurant down the street.
“Remember, no fig-leaf poses, okay?” Stephanie straightens Alex’s classic white bow tie on a white shirt combo.
Alex removes his clasped hands from the front of his crotch. “I feel like I should be serving you tea and crumpets in this outfit.”
“Not gonna lie, it’s a little Downton Abbey, but I like it,” I say.
“Alex!” Phil yells.
Alex leans in to kiss me, but Stephanie shoots out her arm like a traffic guard. “We’re working right now.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alex winks at me and jogs to the makeshift set.
Stephanie’s crash course in modeling works, even if Alex is a little stiff at first. I pull up The Alex Mix on my phone, and Stephanie hands me a mini speaker—which suddenly appears out of the Magic Handbag—to Bluetooth it through.
“That’s it! And turn. Turn. Look back over your shoulder,” Stephanie calls from the side of the green screen set somebody built for tonight. I bite my lip to stifle a laugh when Stephanie mirrors Alex’s poses like a true stage mom. “Alex, BMW called, they want you to be in their next print ad campaign.”
“They did?” I say as a huge smile lights up Alex’s face.
“What? No. We’re pretending. Or vision-casting, if you prefer.” Stephanie mimes taking off the jacket and throwing it over her shoulder. “What’s that? Alex Santos was named MVP of this year’s World Series. Why, yes, he’d love to walk the red carpet at your blockbuster movie premiere. You want him to wear a suit from Armani’s new collection? Sure. He could do that.”
I take some stills and video of Alex before he moves on to Look #2. I load up the best picture on Instagram. He’ll be flattered, right? What do I call Alex though? He’s not my boyfriend officially. “My Valentine” sounds too elementary school. “My friend” sounds too generic. “My love”—yeah, we aren’t there yet. My manicured finger hovers over the share button.
I’m still debating what to do with the picture when Phil sends Alex to put on Look #3. Alex takes a detour on the way to the changing room.
“For you, my … Dakota.” Alex presents me with the faux red rose that was his coordinating prop during Look #2. He kisses my cheek before zooming away.
I close the app without posting. I don’t want to make things even more awkward than they already are. The one million and twenty-six people who follow me on Instagram will have to make up their own story about how I spent my Valentine’s Day. I still want to humblebrag, though, so I send the picture to Nevaeh.
NEVAEH
*blink blink* Woooooow.
“Where’s Dakota?” Phil says when Alex is on Look #4, a white dinner jacket paired with black pants and a white shirt. Very retro and classy. “She better not be eating in that dress.”
I put the powdered sugar doughnut hole down and slip away from the tiny craft services table set up in the back. Stephanie walks backward in front of me while touching up my lipstick and brushing powdered sugar off the front of my dress.
“You’re doing great, Alex. That last set in particular is gold,” Phil says. “See if you can pull something like that out of Dakota for me. Please. So we can all go home.”
Good thing we’re not near the craft services table, or Phil would be getting a doughnut hole upside his head. I climb onto the makeshift stage. Stephanie hands me the ridiculous shoes. Suddenly, I am eye to eye with Alex.
“Well, hello.” Under the intense lights, Alex’s eyes look even more like a kaleidoscope. My heart flutters, and I can’t contain my smile, especially when Alex leans in to kiss my cheek.
We do a little bit of our choreography to shake things up. I do some solo shots too, to include in my headshot portfolio—on the odd chance that I want to continue in the business after the show officially ends.
“And a couple of Alex by himself in Look Number Four,” Phil says.
I wobble on my heels toward the edge of the stage. Toby, aka the guy who holds my ladder, puts out his arms. Sadly, I’m more likely to fall off my heels than my ladder. I accept his help off the stage. I slip off my shoes and hand them to Stephanie.
Dad announces his return to the tux shop with a “Looking good, Alex!”
“You look good too, honey.” Mom air-kisses my cheek because we’re both adulting tonight and wearing lipstick. She nods at Stephanie, who is posing on the side again. “Every time I think I know everything about Stephanie, she surprises me.”
“Me too.”
“I think Alex has got this modeling thing down.” Mom nods her head. “Now, if we can get him to talk on camera.”
“Stephanie’s working on it with him. At this rate, Alex will be Miss Congeniality by the end of the season.”
“And that’s a wrap,” Phil yells. “Good work, everybody.”
“So. Hungry.” I eyeball the craft services table.
“Me too.” Alex suddenly appears behind me and greets my parents.
“What do you say, Alex? You, me, and a romantic dinner of corn dogs from Sonic?” I take out my borrowed diamond-and-pearl earrings and hand them to Stephanie, who puts them in a little robin’s-egg-blue box.
“I hate to be the one to rain on your parade, but you need to stay on set, Dakota.” Stephanie digs in the Magic Handbag and swaps the tiny jewelry box for makeup-removing wipes. She hands a wipe to Alex. “Unless you want Phil to pick the shots, because A Class Act Tuxedo Company’s new prom campaign launches tomorrow morning.”
“Why does the universe hate me so?�
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“A tad dramatic, don’t you think?”
“Don’t worry, Dakota. Go change, and I’ll meet you back here in,” Alex looks at the expensive watch that doesn’t belong to him. “Ten minutes for a romantic Valentine’s Day dinner. The special tonight is doughnut holes.”
“Works for me.”
* * *
“Tah-dah!” Alex waves his hand at the floor when I come back out, in what I hope is a cute girl-next-door look. “A romantic dinner for two.”
In the back corner of the tuxedo shop, while a dozen people rip apart the stage, pull up cables, and go over footage and pictures, Alex has created an oasis for us. I’m pretty sure that our picnic blanket is the tablecloth off the craft service table, but whatever. I place my purse next to Alex’s small duffel bag. I kneel down next to a trio of paper plates filled with strawberries, doughnut holes, and cheap pretzels. Two bottles of seltzer water round out our dinner. Alex puts his phone in the center of the blanket. A candle video with slow jams playing in the background helps muffle some of the banging coming from the front of the store.
“Wow! Thank you for all of this. This is the best Valentine’s Day date I’ve ever had.” It is also the only Valentine’s Day date I’ve ever had, but Alex doesn’t need to know that.
Before I can chicken out, I dig in my giant purse and pull out Alex’s present wrapped in a simple layer of red tissue paper.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” I say.
Alex nods his head as he unwraps the gift. He flips the sign over and runs his index finger over where I signed my name. “Nicely done, Miss McDonald. You are a girl of many talents. I love it. And I have something for you.”
Alex digs a tiny red bag out of his duffel bag. My brain decides to pull up an image of Leo and his “thought-provoking” tiny red bag.
“Is this something private?” I have to ask.
“I guess. Other people might not get it,” Alex says.
After checking where both my parents and Stephanie are, I cautiously put my hand in the bag. I raise an eyebrow at Alex. When I pull it out, it’s a palm-sized stuffed otter on a keychain. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“It’s … cute. Thank you.”
“It reminded me of you. Like how you are always sending me otter gifs. But now I feel bad, especially as you made this sign for me.”
“You made me a picnic, so I think we’re even.”
We keep our kiss both brief and G-rated because our privacy is only a fantasy here in the corner.
“Can we have a redo on my thank-you kiss later when there aren’t so many eyes on us?” I say.
“Yes, if you can talk your parents into letting me take you home.”
“But that’s out of your way, and you have to leave super early tomorrow morning for Tucson.”
“Worth it.”
Though I don’t post about it or even humblebrag to Nevaeh about it, my first real Valentine’s Day date is pretty nice despite the dozen or so other people on the date with us, including Stephanie, who walks over to our picnic corner after the rest of the store has finally been put back together.
“Shhh, we’ll make copies of these ones for your mom.” Stephanie shows us some of the best shots on her phone. “For her birthday.”
“She’d like that.” Alex wipes the fingers that have been feeding me strawberries on the craft services tablecloth/picnic blanket and scrolls through the photos on Stephanie’s phone. “Could I give this one to Abuela? Pretty sure my abuelito owned a tux just like this back in the day. She’d love it.”
“Consider it done. Also, Dakota, I talked your parents into letting you ride home with Alex after all.” Stephanie, our fairy godmother, points at Alex. “Do not make me regret that. Also, I highly recommend that you leave right now. Doug and Tamlyn only need about ten more minutes before we’re all done. Leave the mess. I’ll clean it up.”
Though I’m immediately on my feet and ready to roll after a quick “Thanks,” Alex says, “We can’t let you do that.”
It shaves another five minutes off our already ticking clock, but I follow Alex’s lead and help him clean up the area. I decide not to mention that this is another first for me tonight.
* * *
We hit every red light on the way home. Come on, Universe! Throw me a bone here! As soon as the Toyota comes to a full stop in front of my house, I pop my seatbelt and thank Alex like I’ve wanted to all night.
When we finally break away again, Alex continues to stroke my cheek with his thumb. “I really like you, Dakota. A lot.”
I wince, partly because of the blinding headlights of Dad’s truck coming through the back window of the Toyota, but also because I’m pretty sure that the script is supposed to say, “I love you, Dakota” and that my next line is, “I love you too.”
But this is reality. Plus, the last time I mistook intense like for love, it bit me. Hard. I decide to stick with the truth. “I really like you too, Alex.”
Chapter
23
“I thought your Wednesday afternoons belonged to Alex now,” Aurora says when she arrives at Matsuda passive-aggressively late, even though everybody knows we all get out of school at the same time.
“They do. We’re meeting after dinner tonight though.” I add one last cherry blossom to the Specials board and step back to survey my latest work. “We’re done with the choreography finally. Every minute when there is a hole in both of our schedules at the same time, Alex comes over to rehearse. Wait, does that even count as dating?”
“Is there kissing involved?” Aurora says.
“Maaaaaybe,” I say, and Aurora laughs. “Why does dating have to be so hard?”
“Girl, I’m feelin’ ya. At least next week is spring break. Not that that means much when you’re a Matsuda. Next year though, when I’m at UNH”—Aurora slides her sunglasses from her head back to her face—“I’m going to Rocky Point or whatever the New Hampshire equivalent of Rocky Point is. Sun. Fun. Absolutely no working.”
Once she flies the nest, I don’t think Aurora is ever coming back to Phoenix. I’m surprised by the tears suddenly pricking my eyes. Yes, Leo is my BFF, but Aurora has always been part of the package deal. Last summer, everybody changed. Everybody moved on. And now, everybody is leaving me behind. What happens when Leo leaves for college too?
I turn on my heel and grab a wet towel. I scrub the table Leo already cleaned until I can get my emotions in check. Meanwhile, Aurora flops into another booth with a weary sigh and types away on her phone.
“Hey, while I’m waiting on Leo to finish with the trash, you want to give me your two cents on which dress I should wear to my birthday party?” I sit down at my favorite booth. “We’re not going with the original designer—Royce Cantrell—after the whole sweatshop in Vietnam controversy.”
“Uh, yes. I’ll be back in a minute with both snacks and an expert opinion.” A few minutes later, Aurora slides into the booth with two glasses of melon soda and a bowl of himemaru arare, my favorite kind of deep-fried rice crackers. “You okay, Koty? You seem off today.”
Part of me wants to lie or at least deflect, but I don’t. “I’m going to miss you next year.”
“I’m going to miss you too.” Aurora pops one of the rice crackers into her mouth and pulls out her phone to return a text.
My face must say it all because when Aurora looks back up, she puts her phone in her back pocket. Hot tears prick my eyes again.
“I’m going to miss you too, Koty.” Aurora wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me into her until the tops of our heads touch. “Hey, I’m the one who’s supposed to be getting mushy here. Senior year is almost over. As long as I show up for school every day after spring break, I can pretty much coast over the finish line to graduation. But there are two things before graduation that I can’t wait for—prom and your party. And it better be ridiculous like only the McDonalds know how to do ridiculous.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “Oh, i
t is. Especially if we can get who I want for the musical guest.”
“Exactly. I mean, who else has a ‘musical guest’ at their birthday party? Like, use your Spotify playlist like everybody else.” Aurora gives me a tight hug, and I bank this moment in my memory. “Show me the dresses before somebody comes in and interrupts my five minutes of free time this week.”
I push the glasses of soda farther back on the table and slide the colored sketches of my Top 5 dress choices from their folder.
“Starr Shibutani offered us dibs on one of her new dresses from her upcoming ‘Fashion Forward’ line. You know, the one that partnered specifically with factories that pay their garment workers living wages.” I know I’m bragging, but Aurora doesn’t care. “Of course, she’ll take one of these and customize it especially for me, but these are the basic designs for her fall-winter formal line, which will run at Macy’s.”
“What if you do several wardrobe changes throughout the night? That way, you could let your sister from another mister borrow this one for prom.” Aurora taps a finger on the sketch of the short, icy-blue one with a silver overlay. “This one would look great with my skin tone.”
“My party is the weekend after prom, though.”
“I promise not to spill anything on it.”
“Says the girl who has ketchup spots or something on her shirt.” Leo slides into the booth across from us. He pops one of the rice crackers into his mouth and crunches away.
Aurora looks down. “My favorite shirt!”
While Aurora races to the bathroom, Leo pulls her full glass of melon soda to his side of the table and takes a swig. He pops a few more rice crackers in his mouth before turning the sketches around. Leo moves the pictures around, ranking his choices.
“Why this order?” I say when he’s done.
“Color, shape, and most importantly, functionality. The purple one is pretty, but not really your style. You prefer an understated elegance like the white one, or maybe the rose-gold one,” Leo says with confidence. When I give him a surprised look, he elaborates. “I used to watch a lot of Project Runway with Lindsay when we were still allowed to date. Well, more listened to than watched, if you know what I mean.”
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