Prom-Wrecked

by T. H. Hernandez

  “Thanks, Mom. Really, after all you did to help me out with the photo booth and decorations, I wouldn’t mind having you there—”

  She laughs off my attempt at gratitude. “Yes, you would. And I get it; no one wants their parents at their prom.”

  I tug on the strap of my dress and check my lip gloss. With cat-eye makeup and styled hair, the girl in the mirror doesn’t look like me, but who cares? Most of the time, I’m not even sure who I am anymore. Evil Skater Girl? Honor Roll Student? Or Failed Prom Committee Leader?

  “When did you grow up?” Mom asks, tucking a loose curl behind my ear, her voice thick with emotion. “It feels like yesterday when I put you on the kindergarten bus.”

  The hazy memory of waving goodbye to my parents on the first day of school brings a tear to my eye. “Thanks for setting up the photo booth,” I say, giving her a hug.

  She smiles. “If you really want to thank me, you’ll let me take sample shots for my portfolio until Jordon gets here.”

  I straighten my shoulders and strike a pose. “I’m all yours. Lead the way.”

  Dozens of photos later, Sarah wheezes up our driveway. Thankfully, Jordon is on time, before a fake smile is completely frozen on my face.

  “I can’t wait to meet your date,” Mom says, rushing to the back gate and throwing it open. Jordon steps out of his car and strides up the driveway, his arms swinging a bit as he moves.

  “Wow,” I say, peeking over her shoulder. “Jordon, you look awesome.”

  Smiling, he pushes his hand through his freshly cut, dark blond hair. Without his glasses, his eyes appear bigger, glowing with a richer shade of brown. “Thanks, Riley. You look great, too. These are for you.” He hands me a bouquet filled with blue, purple, and white flowers, which look perfect next to my blue dress. “Ready to go?”

  “Wait one second, young man,” Dad says, stepping out of the house with a colossal camera strapped around his neck. “We’d like a few shots of you two together. I have everything set up inside.”

  I’m very happy that the boy I asked to prom is a stage professional. Jordon appears completely at ease with my parents’ requests and even asks for information about their headshot prices, saying he might need to update his portfolio before he leaves for college.

  Dad places the diffusers on either side of the dining room curtains, which is their favorite in-home backdrop, and arranges us in front of them. After Jordon and I pose for my parents and their dual cameras, we rush out of the house. I tap Sarah’s hood before I slide into the front seat. “You’re my good luck charm tonight,” I tell her.

  “Hands off my car, Riley,” Jordon says. He’s smiling like it’s a joke, but I sense he’s cringing on the inside. I slide into the car, my hands curled into fists to prevent my fingers from accidentally brushing the dashboard or the vinyl seat. I don’t bother with the seat belt, because I can’t even find the damn thing.

  “Are you okay driving without glasses?” I ask, a bit nervous.

  “Contacts,” he answers with a smile. “I wear them on stage sometimes, depending on my character.”

  We ride off into the glowing orange sunset, chatting quietly.

  “What do you think about the new location?” I ask. “Did Catherine tell you how she and her mother found it?”

  Jordon coughs and stammers a few times before he gives me an answer. “Not the details. She, uh, said it was a last-minute cancelation or something.”

  I have a hard time believing Catherine is capable of that much spontaneity. Back in the day, when we were friends, she never left the house on Monday mornings unless her weekly schedule was burned into her brain. And Mrs. Reed was usually quizzing her daughter about her upcoming assignments before she made it out the front door.

  Sighing, I tell Jordon, “Of course it worked out in the end. Catherine Reed’s senior prom would never be less than perfect.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jordon’s hands gripping Sarah’s steering wheel a little harder. I should shut up. Although I’m not sure what Catherine thinks about Jordon, it’s obvious he has a major crush on her.

  We’re silent as we turn into the vineyard’s parking lot. Jordon bypasses the valet and pilots Sarah into the middle of a row of empty parking spots. He cuts the engine, and we turn to each other.

  His chest moves up and down as he inhales a shaky breath. “Ready to do this?”

  My stomach does a double flip. I’m ready for prom to be over, but I won’t admit it to the poor guy who’s stuck with me for the rest of the evening. So I make an effort to push up the corners of my mouth, manufacturing the fakest of fake smiles. “Get ready, Hamilton Senior Prom-goers. Jordon and Riley are here.” I yank up the door handle with an excess of force, and it breaks off in my hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Catherine

  Prom night, Eight P.M.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my gold dress once again, knowing I’m probably leaving stains on the skirt.

  Owen places his hand on mine, stopping me. He glances over and gives me his best grin. “I was serious, earlier. I wasn’t just saying that for your mom’s benefit. You really do look amazing.”

  I give him a small smile, because I know he wants one, but my stomach is a wreck, worse than Cleary field after our tent was bulldozed.

  With a quick squeeze, Owen puts his hand back on the steering wheel. “Everything is going to go perfectly. Trust me.”

  I nod. I do trust him. But what if everything falls apart? This night needs to be perfect. For Riley. She earned it. And because I’ve been the worst friend to her in the history of all friendships. “It’s not like my fears are unfounded. You said it yourself, the universe is out to get our prom.”

  “Let’s just relax and enjoy ourselves. Okay?”

  I nod and swallow as Owen pulls his Jeep into the winery’s parking lot. White lights are strung above the walkways and wind around every tree branch, creating a soft, magical glow, like thousands of fireflies are hovering above our dance.

  The valet rushes to the Jeep and opens my door for me, offering me a hand down. Owen tosses him the keys, and the valet zips off in search of a parking spot. My spike heels sink into the loose dirt. Grabbing my clutch, I take Owen’s arm and let him guide me toward the entrance.

  Raised voices to our left draw my attention to Jordon and Riley standing beside Sarah. Riley looks stunning in a sky-blue dress, her hair falling down her back in loose curls. Her hands are flying about as she talks to him, something clutched in her right hand.

  Jordon’s not yelling, exactly, but his frame is rigid, his jaw clenched. Riley uncurls her fingers and gently places whatever she’s holding into his palm and turns, rushing toward the entrance. Jordon glances at whatever Riley gave him and tosses it into his car.

  “Riley looks upset,” I say to Owen. “You should go talk to her.”

  He glances at me, then at Jordon, then back at me, understanding in his eyes. “Okay. I’ll see you inside.”

  I watch him walk off before taking a deep breath and heading toward Jordon, the butterflies in my belly scrambling into action. We haven’t talked since I asked him to call Riley and make sure she was okay after we found out she’d been decorating the gym in secret. We haven’t rehearsed together, either. He barely acknowledges my presence at school. I can’t believe how badly I screwed things up by almost kissing him. Even if all we can have is a platonic relationship, I need Jordon in my life. I know now I want more than that, but if I have to settle for just being his friend, I will.

  He looks completely different in his tux, and I notice he’s wearing contacts tonight. The pants and jacket fit him to perfection, definitely not a rental. After seeing where he lives, I’m guessing this isn’t his first black-tie affair. His usually messy hair is styled like Hunter Hayes’, making his jaw appear stronger than normal. Goodbye nerd hot, hello GQ sexy.

  He glances up as I approach, an unreadable expression painting his features.

  “Hey.”

/>   “Hey.”

  “Is…something wrong?”

  He shakes his head, his attention now fully on me. Whatever he was focused on before is no longer getting in the way. His lips part for a moment. “You…um…wow. I knew that dress would look good on you, but my imagination didn’t do it justice.”

  My face flames, but I can’t help teasing him. “You imagined me in this dress?”

  Now it’s his turn to blush, but he doesn’t back down. “Among other things.”

  I’m not sure how to take that, but I realize how much I like the idea of him imagining me, the same way I do him when we’re not together. I’ve been obsessing over what his lips would feel like on mine. What would have happened if he hadn’t backed away from me that night.

  “Jordon—”

  “Catherine—” he says at the same time, then laughs. “You go first.”

  “Owen and I aren’t together. We haven’t been for a while. We just…we haven’t told anyone. At first it was for all the wrong reasons, reasons I don’t want to go into now. After that, I think we were both afraid to tell our parents. They worked really hard on our relationship. Something Owen and I never did much of ourselves.” I sigh and drop my gaze to my toes. “But now you’re with Riley, and I’m afraid I blew my chance with you.”

  He takes a step closer to me, close enough for the heat of his body to make itself abundantly obvious, sending ripples of excitement across my skin. I lift my face to find his close to mine, making my head feel untethered, as if it’s floating above us. His dark eyes hold mine with a fire that makes it impossible to look away. There’s something intense and real about the way he’s looking at me, and my lips part slightly in anticipation.

  His gaze drops to my mouth for a second, before he closes his eyes and tips his head back. “You’re not with Owen?” he asks, his voice tight.

  I shake my balloon head. “No.”

  “Riley and I came to the dance as friends.” He opens his eyes, and that smoldering gaze of his connects with mine again. “I’m not with her.”

  “You’re not?”

  He rolls his lips inward briefly, as if he’s waging some sort of internal argument with himself. Discussion over, he moves closer still, his gaze falling to my mouth again. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Please.”

  “I don’t want to mess up your lipstick.”

  “You won’t,” I whisper. My breath catches as I wait for those perfect pouty lips to finally meet mine. The second our mouths meet, I lose myself in the sensation. His kiss is soft, pliant, sending liquid heat zipping straight to my toes, something Owen’s kisses have never done. His hands slide to my waist, those long musician’s fingers wrapping around me, urging me closer, while mine find their way up to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into the hair above his collar.

  My heart pounds against my rib cage, and my skin buzzes like tiny jolts of electricity are rushing across it as our lips move against each other. Kissing Jordon Oswald in real life is so much more powerful than kissing him in my imagination.

  I sigh, my lips parting, and Jordon tests the waters, his tongue sliding across mine. My pulse picks up at the insane hotness of this kiss, my knees suddenly becoming like limp spaghetti, and I lean into him to keep from collapsing on my noodle legs.

  Jordon lets out a small groan and tilts his head so our mouths connect on a deeper level, tongues exploring, both of our respirations picking up.

  “Whoa,” someone calls.

  Jordon immediately pulls back, dropping his hands to his sides.

  I let out a small sigh of relief and frustration when I realize it’s just Hunter walking toward us, hand in hand with Simone.

  I smile, thrilled she finally got up the nerve to ask Simone to the dance, but at the same time, a little sad she didn’t say anything to me before now. Then again, I haven’t told her much about my love life lately, either.

  The two girls are wearing complementary dresses. Hunter is in a gorgeous short orange dress that beautifully sets off her dark skin. She’s nearly glowing, although that could be from the company she’s with rather than the color of her dress. Simone is wearing a long white dress with a bright orange sash the same color as Hunter’s dress.

  “You two look amazing,” I say.

  Hunter glances from me to Jordon and back again, her eyes narrowed. “Where’s Owen?”

  Might as well get this over with, and my BFF should probably be the second person I tell. “Owen and I split up.”

  She hits my arm. “Get outta here!” Her gaze travels between me and Jordon. “Although, not all that surprising, all things considered. When did that happen?”

  “About a month ago. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s go inside and shake things up.”

  She laughs, her gaze drifting between me and Jordon again. “Oh, this is gonna be good.” She starts to walk away but twists back to pin me with a death glare. “We are so going to talk.”

  I lift an eyebrow in Simone’s direction. “Oh, yeah we are.”

  “Touché,” she says, swinging back around.

  Jordon locks his car and reaches out to take my hand, then pulls back, stuffing his hands in his pockets. I place my hand on his elbow and let him guide me toward the entryway. Hunter’s reconstructed decorations mix with the white lights. Glittered purple stars and a giant pale-green moon dangle from a wooden trellis covering the walkway, which is scattered with white rose petals, creating a fragrant carpet.

  We exit the trellis and are greeted by a huge banner waving from a giant oak tree. “Francine’s Frocks proudly welcomes you to this year’s Hamilton High School Prom!” followed by a phone number and website address. Glancing around at the decorated wine barrels, long wooden tables, and makeshift dance floor, I feel a sense of gratitude to our begrudging patron.

  As Jordon and I make our way toward the gathering crowd, all conversation stops, every head turning our way. Then silence is slowly replaced by the steady hum of low whispers. My eyes rake the area for Owen and Riley, but I don’t see them anywhere. The nonconfrontational, go-with-the-flow side of me was hoping he’d break the ice by walking in with her. I guess the new me will have to deal with the fallout. Squaring my shoulders, I lift my chin and tuck my hand farther into the space between Jordon’s forearm and biceps.

  “What the hell?” says a voice behind me.

  I turn to find Jessa staring at me with murderous rage.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Riley

  Prom night, Eight thirtyish P.M.

  I think my date just dumped me. Jordon realized I broke his car, and he looked like he needed a minute. After apologizing profusely, I scooted away, ducking behind the nearest oak tree, silently thanking Owen and Catherine for finding a prom location with so many hiding spaces. I heard Jordon talking to someone, and then…silence. Assuming the coast was clear, I stepped out from behind the trunk, ready to apologize again for dislodging Sarah’s handle.

  I never got the words out. Jordon wouldn’t have heard them, anyway. Not with his face smashed against Catherine’s, the two of them kissing like they’d cease to exist if they broke apart.

  Which is totally fine. It’s not like I wanted him to kiss me.

  So here I am, hiding behind another huge oak tree, wondering what to do about my current predicament. Someone whispers my name, and I peek between two low branches.

  “Owen?”

  He sends me a heart-melting smile. “Hey, there. Why are you hiding?”

  Skirting around the tree, I push the guilt out of my expression before we make eye contact. “It’s a long story.”

  “You can tell me all about it—later.” Leaning against the rough bark, he tugs at his tie. “I’m wearing a tux. Are you happy now?”

  My mouth goes dry at the sight of him. Whatever gel product he used keeps his hair off his face in a tamer version of his usual style. And the classic black tux, though he resisted wearing it, fits his tall, lean body perfectly. “You look s
tunningly handsome.”

  “Thank you. And you look beautiful.” He picks up one of my loose curls and lets it fall through his open hand. If I hadn’t just seen his date locking lips with someone else, I’d back away. But can Catherine really be looking for Owen right now? She seemed pretty happy with Jordon.

  I raise my arm and flex a muscle. “Better than Evil Skater Girl? She’s got awesome biceps. And she’s taller than me and—”

  “You’re real. She’s not.” His hand moves to my cheek, and the warmth of his touch sends a wave of heat through my body. “I know we both came with someone else, but can you save me a dance? Or two? And I…” Owen hesitates, tugging on his tie like he’s restraining himself from ripping it off.

  “Stop!” I reach out and lower his arm back to his side. “Let’s go inside before you ruin your new look.” Also, I can’t really stand out here and watch Owen’s ex-girlfriend kiss my date.

  Owen drops his hand to my shoulder, holding me back. “Not yet. We really need to talk.”

  “Here?” We step farther away from the entrance, but still in view of everyone waiting in line to enter the banquet area.

  “Before we go inside. Please?” Owen takes my hand, and we disappear into a cluster of sweet-smelling cherry trees. Faint music floats outside as the DJ kicks off the dance part of the evening. When my eyes meet Owen’s, my heart begins to flutter. “What did you want to talk about? Catherine’s plan to wreak havoc at prom?”

  Rather than laugh at my joke, his expression turns more serious. “I know you and Catherine haven’t always gotten along, but she’s on your side tonight. She wants all of us, including you, to have a great prom.”

  “We haven’t spoken more than two sentences to each other in years. Why does she care about me?”

  “I’ll let her tell you herself, but partially because I care about you. And she cares about me. But she doesn’t love me. Or she does love me, but not in the way you think. She’s not in love with me.” Owen takes a shaky breath.