Promised by Prom

by Jessica Bucher

  I could still remember the look he gave Max the first time he and Addy came over. His eyes were all narrow and shifty, as he asked the petrified first grader what his intentions were with his daughter.

  “Tag, sir,” squeaked Max, before hiding behind Addy until my dad went back out to the barn.

  I hoped the brief encounter with my dad wouldn’t hinder my chances with Dean. The fact that we were both raised on farms would make conversation easier than it had been with Freddy. If I couldn’t think of anything to say I could always ask about his horse. No way a boy who wore a cowboy hat to school every day, didn’t have his own horse.

  Ordinarily, I would mull over whether or not to ask a boy out or wait for him to ask me out for no less than three weeks, but Dean was a little different. He had only been on the market a few weeks. Anna Martin scooped him up in sixth grade and had had an iron grip right up until their nasty public break-up last month. I wasn’t the only girl with their eye on Dean. If I wanted a shot, I needed to move quickly.

  So, I sent Lucy a text.

  Please procure Dean’s phone number from Simon.

  It took her a hot second to respond with the number. Maybe I was paranoid, but I couldn’t help but feel like Lucy was heavy into the idea of Dean as a method for squashing any potential attraction between Max and me. The worst part was, until she brought it up, I hadn’t been worried about Max. Now, I kept thinking about him when I shouldn’t have been. What if she was right? What if he did like me? Would that really be so awful?

  I could picture prom with Max so easily. It would be a blast. It would be Joey’s on steroids. No awkward conversation there. No rescue texts needed. Instead, the six of us could split a limo, and he and I could laugh our butts off together while the others remained permanently attached to one another’s faces.

  Everything about Max was fun, but could he be more than fun? I had seen Max date girl after girl over the years and although he was bummed when each of those relationships ended, they had ended for a reason. Most of the time that reason was him.

  As much as I wanted fun, I needed serious. Which is why I took everything I had been thinking about Max and shoved it in the back corner of my mind and dialed Dean Alexander. You couldn’t get more serious than a guy who had stayed loyal to his girlfriend from sixth grade all the way up until junior year. Now I just had to cross my fingers and hope that his serious side came with enough fun attached to keep my mind from wandering where it shouldn’t.

  Chapter Seven

  Max

  “Is that what you’re wearing?” I asked a nervous-looking Nora standing in my kitchen.

  She looked down at her denim skirt and cowboy boots like she had made a grave mistake. I chuckled at her.

  “I’m kidding, Nora. You look great.” Which was a major understatement. She had on a white shirt, the kind that hung off her shoulders, and the best part was that she had her hair back in braids with big feathery earrings framing her face.

  And don’t even get me started on the boots. Nora had boots in every color and style, and she somehow paired them perfectly with whatever she had on.

  We huddled around the pizza Mom and Dad had delivered before they went to their fancy dessert making class. Nora took a slice and sat down at the table across from me as we waited for my sister to bring us each a Coke. Nora wanted to eat before her date since they weren’t actually going to a restaurant. Instead, they were going to—you guessed it—the rodeo.

  Admittedly, I howled with laughter when Nora told me over text that afternoon. It was pretty clear this guy was a little rusty on the first dates. Maybe his ex-girlfriend was really into the rodeo, so he could only assume all girls were a fan of tight-jeaned men getting tossed into the dirt by an animal a hundred times stronger than them.

  I asked her about it earlier that day in the text.

  Max: And how do you feel about this activity?

  Nora: I’m going for the clowns.

  She came over here to get dressed with Addy’s supervision, although we spent most of the afternoon bingeing some baking show on Netflix and begging Addy to make us some cookies.

  “What are your plans tonight?” she asked with a sly smile. She knew that I was on call tonight, and whatever I was doing would be in the vicinity of the rodeo grounds.

  “Oh, I’ll just be sitting around here, waiting for the phone to ring. Usual Saturday night, you know.” I winked at her, and she gave me a little shake of her head in return.

  Moments like this, when we had our inside jokes and secrets, had me wondering if all of this foolish hope was just in my head. Because at that point in the evening, I was very confident that I would be rescuing Nora from her date and spending some time with her myself. How I knew that wasn’t clear, but it was somewhere in the signs she sent me. The winks and smiles held some secret language that drove me nuts.

  “Who would call you?” Addy barked from the kitchen.

  I mimicked Addy silently, and Nora laughed.

  “Oh shoot, it’s almost seven. I gotta go.” Nora shoved the rest of her pizza crust into her mouth as she checked her hair again in the mirror.

  Addy walked her toward the door and helped her fix the thin scarf around her neck. “Get out of here and keep me updated! Remember, don’t bring up the ex, and ask him about his horse.”

  “And try not to get those two confused!” I shouted.

  Addy tossed her paper plate at my head.

  In her frenzy, Nora had left her purse on the couch, so as she ran back in to get it, I picked up my phone and waved it in front of me.

  Was I being too desperate? Probably.

  Was I desperately hoping this date was a total disaster? Oh hail yes.

  After she left, I settled in for an episode entitled, Bread Week, and waited for my phone to ring.

  Nora

  I am not an animal lover. I mean seriously, I may hold the county record for vehicular birdslaughter, or injury at least, but the rodeo, it bothers me. What is the point of chasing bulls around a big circle, only to tackle them and tie their legs together faster than the other guy? And don’t get me started on wild cow milking.

  Dean, however, was loving it, so I did my best to smile and look more interested than disgusted (no easy task). When the break between barrel racing and steer roping came, I was all too ready to get Dean focused on me and not the cloud of dust below us.

  “So,” I started, “you come here often?”

  Dean burst into laughter, smiling at me in a way that made those adorable dimples impossible to overlook. Maybe I wasn’t going to have to call Max after all.

  “The rodeo?” he asked. “Yeah, I do actually. My dad was a bull rider back in the day.”

  That explained the cowboy hat and Wrangler affliction. “What about you? Is this your path?” I asked, motioning to the stadium floor below us. It was still too cold for outdoor rodeo so we were watching from the bleachers of a makeshift indoor arena. I hoped he would answer no, because there was no way I was going to be a good rodeo girlfriend. When I looked around the arena and spotted the girlfriends of the riders, it was pretty clear to me that we weren’t made of the same stuff. Their hair was big and the butts of their jeans were bedazzled in rhinestones.

  A sad look crossed Dean’s face. “I’m afraid not. I can’t compete anymore. Horse stomped my knee when I was little, and it’s never been the same.”

  I grimaced picturing a young Dean being trampled by a horse. I was definitely not going to ask him about his horse now.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured, trying very hard not to let the relief show on my face.

  Dean nodded solemnly, then burst into laughter again. He had a big laugh that reminded me of my dad’s, in a way I didn’t want to read too much into.

  “Nora, I’m kidding!” he howled. “I don’t rodeo because I suck at it. But I like watching.” He winked at me then, and I found myself admiring the way the corners of his eyes crinkled up when he smiled.

  Dean Alexander was funny. Han
dsome, funny, and if his dating track record could be trusted, serious. I was starting to get a really good feeling about this date.

  “Traditionally at this point of the evening I purchase myself a sausage dog,” he said with a grin. “You’re not a dirty rotten vegetarian are you?”

  I raised one eyebrow, “I raise and slaughter my own pigs, thank you very much. I’ll be wanting extra sour kraut.”

  “You got it,” said Dean. I smiled to myself as I watched him squeeze between the rest of the spectators on his way over to the concessions booth. I could get used to watching that butt. I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Max.

  Nora: Probably no shake tonight.

  I figured it was better to text Max early in case he still had a chance to do something fun with his evening.

  When Dean returned, they were preparing for the Indian Relay, the only part of the rodeo I really enjoyed. There was something thrilling about seeing a man jump on a moving horse with no saddle and then hold on for dear life as they made their way around the track.

  “You’re just in time for my favorite event!” I said as Dean took his seat beside me.

  He nodded, but his smile was diminished, and his hands were empty.

  “I thought you went for sausage dogs?” I felt sort of silly asking, but he had been gone for twenty minutes allegedly in pursuit of dinner.

  His eyes widened, like he had just remembered why he left his seat in the first place. “I’m so sorry. I got...distracted.” He was scanning the crowd nervously, and when I spotted Anna four rows ahead of us, I began to get the impression that his distraction came in the form of a person.

  “She’s up there,” I mumbled.

  “What?” he asked, turning to me surprised.

  “Anna. I assume that is who you’re looking for. She’s up there.” I pointed at her seat ahead of us.

  Dean’s face fell. “This is bad date behavior, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to talk about my ex, definitely not to her.”

  I shrugged my shoulders, biting the bottom corner of my lip, “I don’t have any exes...but, yeah, I think you just failed.”

  Dean laughed, but it was smaller this time. “Nora Henry, if I were really ready to date, you would be the perfect girl.”

  “If,” I repeated quietly.

  “If,” he agreed.

  And that was that. We cheered enthusiastically during the Indian Relay, but by the end of the race, my stomach was growling, and he was ready to go home and mope all by his lonesome—his words not mine. I watched one last time as his Wrangler booty sauntered out of the arena.

  Strawberry Shake, I texted, then waited with a pout.

  Chapter Eight

  Max

  “Howdy,” I drawled as I stepped up to the ticket booth. “One ticket, please.” The girl behind the counter gave me a little eye roll as she ripped a ticket off the roll and tossed it at me.

  “It’s half-over,” she muttered. “Just go on in.”

  “Well, ain’t it my lucky day,” I said with the tip of my non-existent hat.

  She didn’t find it charming, but she couldn’t stop my good mood. One minute, I was sitting in the parking lot lost in despair when I got the first text that basically said my services would not be needed, and my heart plummeted. I was almost halfway to Joey’s to drown my sorrows in pinball when the second text arrived, and I made an illegal U-turn to come back to the rodeo.

  When I peeked into the arena, it took me a few minutes before I spotted Nora in her white top, moping in the stadium seating. She was alone. I ignored the chaos that took place in the center—why any guy wanted to prove just how fragile he was by trying to wrangle an animal ten times his size was beyond me.

  I climbed the stairs up to her row where she sat alone. She quickly perked up and smiled when I approached. Holding my hands up, I looked around for the Marlboro man.

  “Where is he?”

  “He left.”

  I grimaced. “That bad, huh? Did you try asking about his horse?”

  She snickered as I sat down next to her.

  “Actually, I don’t think he’s quite over that five year relationship. Silly me.”

  “Bummer. I had a whole plan to get you out of here. It involved a case of mono and causing a little bit of a scene, and it would have required my classical acting training that I got from watching two YouTube videos in the parking lot.”

  Her head tipped back with a laugh, and people started looking at us like we were the disruptive ones. Let them look, I thought. I hope they assumed she was with me.

  As we watched the second half of the show, cheering loudest for the rodeo clowns which I didn’t even realize actually existed, a sudden revelation made my heart skip a beat. Nora didn’t need me. Strawberry shake was for when she needed rescuing from a bad date, but the date ended by the time she texted. She could have easily gotten in her car and driven home.

  Maybe she needed a laugh or just wanted a friend, but I held onto this little piece of hope that maybe what she wanted was a good date. So naturally, a good date was what she would get.

  I bought her some cotton candy, and we spent the rest of the night trying to get on the jumbotron screen hanging in the middle of the arena. We danced and even attempted to get a wave going, but as it turned out, rodeo-goers were really just interested in watching the rodeo.

  Toward the end of the night, we were sitting in our seats and watching the last cowboy to get his ride. Nora turned to me, and suddenly had a sad look on her face. My heart dropped.

  “I don’t think I’m very good at this dating thing,” she said.

  I swallowed, afraid that if I didn’t say the exact right thing at that moment, I would ruin everything.

  “What are you talking about? You’re a blast.”

  “You’re just saying that because we’re friends. Dating someone isn’t the same as hanging out with them as friends.”

  Her eyes were locked with mine, and my heart either stopped or was beating so fast that I could no longer feel it.

  “Well it should be,” I mumbled, but I was afraid I said it so quietly that she didn’t hear me.

  A long moment of silence filled the space between us. I looked into her eyes, searching for any sign that what she saw was more than her best friend’s little brother or her childhood playmate.

  A hand from one row back slapped us both on the shoulders. I tried to ignore them just to stay in that intimate moment with Nora, but they slapped us again.

  “You’re on the screen!” the old woman behind us yelled.

  “What?” Nora blurted out.

  I looked up to the screen and there we were. On the screen, in the middle of a big pink heart under the words “Kiss Cam.” Rodeos have Kiss Cams?

  And honestly, time ceased to move. There was just that awkward moment we saw the screen, Nora mumbling “Oh [profanity],” and me waiting wide-eyed for the camera to move away.

  But anyone with large stadium experience knew that refusing the demands of the Kiss Cam only provoked the Kiss Cam operator to pester you adamantly. So, a few more awkward moments slipped by and the crowd started to get impatient with us. And just when I was about to turn and plant a platonic peck on her cheek, just to shut them up, I felt Nora’s hands grip my cheeks and land a big smooch right on my lips.

  It was quick and nothing worse than your grandma might pull around the holidays, but it still managed to turn me into a mute idiot.

  “Happy now?” she yelled at the crowd, at which they all cheered, so I guess that was a yes. Most of the remaining rodeo-goers were more than a few Bud Lights in at that point, and it showed.

  When she sat back down, it took a few minutes for the awkwardness to wear off, and when it did, we both died in an outbreak of laughter.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said when we’d both composed ourselves. Then, she grabbed my hand and yanked me out of my seat and toward the door.

  Nora

  I wanted to be bummed that things with Dean wen
t from awesome to terrible in the short time it took to buy a hot dog, or not buy one, as was the case, but it was hard to maintain a pout when Max was making me laugh so hard soda shot out of my nose. Maybe he was right, maybe dating was supposed to be as easy as hanging out with a good friend.

  “You know,” I said, as the two of us circled the park outside of the arena. “Kissing you was like kissing a little boy with a crush on his babysitter. You should have seen your eyes,” I laughed, “If they got any wider…”

  Max clenched his jaw, a blush rising in his cheeks as he looked anywhere but at me. For a second, I wondered if I hit the nail on the head. If Lucy had really been onto something…

  But then he quipped back with his usual Altman snark. “If you were my babysitter, you’d be begging for extra hours.” He said, waggling his eyebrows up and down suggestively. “Besides,” he added. “That does not count as kissing me. When I kiss you, you’ll know it.”

  When. The word sat there between us, heavy and full of questions. It could have been an accident, or just his usual quip back, but it felt like he meant it. And if I was being honest with myself, a big part of me wanted to know what really kissing Max would be like.

  “Thanks for coming to my rescue again,” I said, changing the subject before either of us could dwell too much on that hypothetical kiss.

  Max shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis. He had offered me his hoodie earlier that evening and was now forced to brave the chilly March air with just a thin long-sleeved shirt while I was cozy as could be. Truth was, I had a coat in the truck. But I liked the idea of wearing a boys sweater. It was the sort of thing girlfriends did, and lord almighty I wanted to be somebody's girlfriend.

  “We had a deal,” said Max.

  “Yeah,” I nodded, looking up at him in the glow of the street light. “But, there’s not much in the deal for you.”