by Amanda Abram
“Oh, hang on,” she said, disappearing back into the kitchen. She returned seconds later with a couple of fortune cookies and dropped them into the bag. “Can’t forget the most important part.”
Mom swore by the fortunes inside fortune cookies. She claimed that every single fortune she’d ever received from one had come true. Conveniently enough, though, none of the lucky numbers had ever led to a big lottery win.
“Thanks. I’ll go bring this out to him,” I said.
I didn’t bother grabbing a jacket and regretted it as soon as I stepped onto the front porch and shut the door behind me. It couldn’t have been more than twenty degrees out.
“What’s that?” Dylan asked, pointing to the bag in my hand.
“Kung Pao Chicken,” I replied as I cautiously made my way down the driveway, trying to avoid the patches of ice that were scattered about.
Even in the dark, I could see his face light up at that. “Sweet.”
I stopped in front of him and reached inside the bag. “Oh yeah, and fortune cookies.” I pulled out two of them and held them out for him to take one. “We never read our fortunes after dinner.”
“I don’t believe in that stuff,” he said, but grabbed one anyway. He eyed me curiously. “Aren’t you cold?”
“Freezing,” I said through chattering teeth, “but I’m not going back in until we’ve read our fortunes.”
I set the bag of leftovers down on the ground and ripped open the clear plastic wrapper. “I’ll read mine first,” I said, breaking open the cookie and pulling out the little strip of paper inside. I opened my mouth to begin reading, but Dylan interrupted me.
“Wait, will your fortune still come true if you read it out loud?”
I thought about it for a second. I honestly had no idea, and despite how obsessed my mom was about fortunes, she’d never mentioned any of the rules to me. “I don’t know the rules, but it’s more fun to read them out loud.”
Clearing my throat, I held up the fortune and read the words printed on it. “True love is closer than you think.” I wanted to scoff at that. It was a little too late to be getting that fortune; I no longer thought of Elijah as my “true love”.
“Whoa,” Dylan said with raised eyebrows, “that’s a good fortune. Make sure you keep that one.”
“Oh, I will,” I said with a small smile. “What does yours say?”
Taking his cookie out of its wrapper, he broke it in half and pulled out the fortune. He glanced down at it, reading it to himself, and chuckled. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“What?”
“I got the same one.” He held it out for me to see.
I stared down at it. Sure enough, it read, True love is closer than you think.
With a furrowed brow, I said, “No way. That can’t be. We can’t both have the same fortune.”
“Evidently, we can.”
“No.” I shook my head. “If we both get the same fortune, they cancel each other out.”
He narrowed his eyes into a look of suspicion. “I thought you didn’t know what the rules were.”
“I don’t. I’m just assuming that’s one of them. It only makes sense.” I paused for a moment. “One of us is going to have to be selfless and give theirs up so that the other can find true love.”
I waited for him to hand his fortune over, but he didn’t. Instead, we just stared at each other
“What?” he asked finally.
“I just figured you would give yours up,” I said. “Since, you know, I had the fortune first.”
“Well, I thought you would give yours up since, you know, you’ve already experienced true love and I haven’t.”
It was a valid argument, but there was no way I was going to be the one to give that fortune up. And why did Dylan care about true love anyway? He’d always been a serial dater. I didn’t think he cared about being in a long-term, loving relationship with someone.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “If neither of us wants to give up their fortune, we’re just going to have to flip a coin or something.”
Dylan seemed to be considering that. “Or,” he said, and before I knew what was happening, he snatched the fortune right out of my hand, “I just take yours.”
“Hey!” I swiped at his hand to take it back, but he quickly raised it out of my reach, laughing at my inability to retrieve it.
“Give it back!” I demanded through my own laughter.
“Not a chance,” he said. “I want to find true love.”
“Give it back,” I repeated, my voice low and menacing, “or else.”
“Or else what?” Dylan asked, looking amused as he arched an eyebrow.
“Or else…” My voice trailed off as I realized I had nothing to use as a threat. Until, that is, I lowered my gaze to the ground, where I’d set the bag of Kung Pao Chicken just minutes ago.
Retrieving it, I held it up for him to see. “Or else you don’t get to take these leftovers home with you.”
He narrowed his eyes into a glare. “That’s low, Cass.”
“And so is stealing my chance at true love,” I said, making a face. “I guess that makes us even.”
He lowered his gaze to the bag in my hand and his expression softened. “Okay, fine. I’ll trade you the fortune for the chicken. On the count of three.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I had every intention of honoring my end of the deal, but Dylan did not. When he got to three and I handed him the bag, he took it and then snatched the fortune away from me at the last second, just as my fingertips lightly grazed the piece of paper.
“Psych!” he exclaimed with an evil laugh.
“Dylan!” I half-giggled, half-scolded. I lurched toward him with the intent of giving him a light, playful shove, but I must have stepped on a small patch of ice because I suddenly lost my footing and started to slip. For a split second, I was sure I was going to end up on my butt on the frozen tar, but Dylan’s reflexes were impressively sharp as he dropped the bag of leftovers, lunged forward, wrapped his arms around my waist and then pressed me up against the side of his car to steady me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, staring down at me in amusement.
“Yeah,” I replied with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’m fine.”
We smiled at each other and then began to laugh. But that laughter was short-lived as we both became aware of how close we were. His chest was pressed against mine, pinning me to the driver’s door. His arms were still wrapped protectively around me. My hands were holding onto fistfuls of his jacket, keeping him anchored to me. Our faces were only inches apart.
As my gaze flickered up to meet his, a shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature of the air surrounding us. In fact, I was barely noticing the cold at all anymore. All I could feel was the warmth of Dylan’s body heat enveloping me; his hands practically scalding the spot on my lower back where they were resting.
The air between us became thick, almost suffocating, as our eyes searched one another—looking for the answers to questions neither one of us dared to speak.
Questions like: Why hadn’t we let go of each other yet? Why was I tightening my grip on his jacket? Why were his hands slowly moving to my hips? Why was I feeling a sudden, inexplicable pull toward him? Why did a muscle in his jaw contract as he lowered his gaze to linger on my lips?
And why was my heart pounding so hard in my chest that it was practically bruising my rib cage?
As he began to lower his head ever so slightly, my eyes involuntarily fluttered shut; my face tilted up towards his.
It wasn’t until I felt the welcoming heat of his breath against my lips that I realized what was happening. What this was.
Dylan was going to kiss me.
And I was going to let him.
At that startling realization, my eyes flew open in shock and panic at the exact moment Dylan jerked away from me.
He had come to the same realization I had.
Quickly remov
ing his hands from my hips, he stepped away from me, putting as much distance between us as possible. “I have to go.”
I pushed off the side of the car. “Dylan,” I began, but stopped. I had no idea what to say.
Which was fine, because he obviously had no intention of waiting around to talk about what had just happened—or almost happened.
“Thanks again for tonight,” he mumbled, yanking open the driver’s door and getting inside the car.
I opened my mouth to say goodbye, but he shut the door before I could.
The engine roared to life and he pulled out of the driveway without glancing back. As his car disappeared down the street, I stood at the end of my driveway for a moment, frozen and numb, trying to wrap my brain around everything. Trying to make sense of it.
“Cassie?” Mom called to me from the front porch. “Honey, what are you doing? Come back inside; it’s freezing out.”
I nodded and turned to walk back up the driveway. Bending down, I picked up the bag of Kung Pao Chicken Dylan had dropped.
“Dylan didn’t want the leftovers?” Mom asked as I walked up the porch stairs.
“I didn’t get to him in time,” I lied. I sure as heck wasn’t going to tell her the truth: that he left in such a rush after almost kissing me that he forgot them.
“Oh, well then, more for you I guess.” Mom took the bag from me and headed for the kitchen.
Only then did I notice Caitlyn standing next to the front door, staring out the window at the driveway, and my breath hitched in my throat. How long had she been there?
She flashed me a small, impish grin. “I’m glad you didn’t fall,” she said, before turning and scurrying up the stairs before I could react.
I guess that answered my question.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The first thing I was greeted with upon entering school on Monday morning was a table full of cheerleaders selling tickets.
“Winter Formal tickets are on sale!” Lauren squealed, squeezing my arm. “Oh, did I tell you I asked Jake last night if he’d go with me and he said yes?”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, trying hard to sound interested.
Truth was, I was happy for her. She called me on Sunday to gush about her date on Saturday, and it seemed she really liked this boy. From her description, he sounded exactly like the kind of guy I’d always wanted Lauren to find for herself—sweet, intelligent and a total gentleman. And I truly wanted to listen to her go on and on about him, but I couldn’t focus on anything right now.
At least, anything other than what happened Saturday night.
I didn’t tell Lauren. I planned on never telling her. It was bad enough Caitlyn knew about it, even though she was pretending like she didn’t. I kind of wanted to pretend like nothing happened, but I wouldn’t be able to do that until I spoke with Dylan, to see if he would act weird around me. If he did, then we could just have the obligatory discussion of “it didn’t mean anything, blah, blah, blah”. And if he didn’t act weird around me, then there was nothing to worry about.
I felt a finger poke into my side.
“Did you hear me?” Lauren asked.
“Hmm, what?” I turned my head and blinked at her.
“I asked if you want to buy tickets now, or wait to buy them online later?”
I narrowed my eyes in confusion at her question before realizing Lauren was assuming I was going to that stupid dance.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“No to which one?”
“To both.”
Lauren let go of my arm and frowned. “What do you mean? You’re going, right?”
“Wrong.”
She let out a strangled sigh. “What are you talking about? We’ve been planning this for months. You even bought a dress specifically for the occasion.”
It was true. Months ago, there was a clothing boutique in the mall that was going out of business, and they had some great deals on dresses. Lauren and I took advantage, and we each bought a dress to wear to Winter Formal. Back then, I was confident my relationship with Elijah would last at least through February.
I guess it was a good thing I hadn’t sprung for a Prom dress too.
“I’m not going,” I said. “I don’t have a date.”
“So? We’ll find you one.”
“But I don’t want one. Because I don’t want to go. Dances are stupid.”
Lauren gasped. “Since when do you think dances are stupid?”
“Since my boyfriend cheated on me,” I snapped, a little louder than I’d planned to. Clamping my mouth shut, I glanced over at the table of cheerleaders, which just happened to be within hearing distance.
My gaze caught Hannah’s and she quickly lowered her eyes to the table, looking uncomfortable as her cheeks flushed pink.
Lauren grabbed my hand and dragged me to a less crowded area of the hallway. “Cassie, I know you’re still hurting over the whole Elijah and Hannah thing, but we’ve been planning on going to Winter Formal together for months now. I don’t want to go without you. Please say you’ll go.” She held up her hands in a praying position in front of her face and pouted.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and let out a frustrated sigh. Words could not describe how much I didn’t want to go to the dance, so I had no idea how to get Lauren to understand where I was coming from.
“I’ll…” My voice trailed off when I saw Dylan entering the building with Elijah by his side.
I watched for a moment as they stopped to talk. Elijah looked excited about something and was gesturing wildly as he spoke to Dylan, who looked considerably less excited than his best friend.
“You’ll what?” Lauren asked, stealing my attention away from the boys.
“Oh, um,” I said, distracted now, “I was going to say I’ll think about it.”
“Yeah?” she said, her voice full of hope.
“Yes, I’ll think about it.”
“That means you’re going!” She threw her arms around me in a constricting hug.
“Not necessarily.” When I finally managed to pry her off me, I glanced back over at Elijah and Dylan, who were in the process of parting ways.
“Hey,” I said to Lauren, “I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Okay! Bye!” She flashed me a wide grin before spinning around and heading back over to the table of cheerleaders.
I, on the other hand, set my sights on Dylan and followed him down the hallway to his locker.
I had to know how things were between us. If they were weird or normal. If I had just imagined what almost happened Saturday night.
“Dylan,” I called out as I approached.
He stiffened when he heard his name, pausing for a few seconds before putting in his locker combo.
“Hey,” he said, avoiding my gaze.
“Hi.” I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Like I didn’t know what to say to him.
I knew the best thing for us both would be to talk about what happened on Saturday. Get it all out in the open. Address the elephant in the hallway. Otherwise, I could potentially feel uncomfortable around him for the rest of my life. And I didn’t want that. We still had a project to work on.
“So, um, can we talk?” I asked.
He inhaled sharply and then held his breath for a moment before grabbing a book out of his locker. “Now is not a good time.”
Translation: he didn’t want to talk.
But I was going to make him. If now wasn’t a good time, I would find a time that would be. “Okay. Well, how about later?”
“Yeah, sure.” He shut his locker. “I’ll come find you when I’ve got some time.”
And with that, he walked off. Didn’t even say goodbye.
Well, I guess I no longer had to wonder.
Things were definitely weird between us.
◆◆◆
I was hoping Dylan would come find me during lunch that afternoon, but no such luck. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen as I gave a quick scan of the cafeteria before
joining Lauren at our usual table.
“So, have you given any thought to Winter Formal yet?” she asked through a mouthful of ham sandwich.
“No.” I opened my bottle of water. “I’ve been in classes all morning. I’ve been giving thought to education.”
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Nerd.”
I took a bite of my celery stick. “I’m still leaning toward ‘no’, though.”
“Ugh.” She lowered her forehead to the table and banged it lightly against the surface. “Why are you being so difficult?”
“Why are you being so persistent?”
“Because.” She lifted her head up to look at me. “We only have two Winter Formals left before graduating. That’s sad, isn’t it? After that, there will be no more Winter Formals for the rest of our lives. Don’t you want to be able to tell your kids someday about how you attended all the Winter Formal dances in high school?”
“I don’t think my kids are going to care about that.”
Lauren frowned. “I swear, sometimes you can be so stubb—”
She was interrupted by the sudden sound of a guitar strumming in the distance.
We exchanged a curious glance before Lauren’s eyes shifted past my shoulder and widened in surprise. “What the…”
Out of curiosity, I spun around in my seat to see what was going on.
And instantly wished I hadn’t.
Elijah, with a guitar strapped to his shoulder, was slowly making his way over to our lunch table; his friends following behind him in a straight line.
“Since when does Elijah play the guitar?” Lauren asked.
Since never, as far as I knew. Elijah had never expressed any interest in playing instruments, so this talent came as a complete surprise to me. However, judging from how out-of-tune most of the chords were, the talent was still new to him.
I could still recognize the song, though. It was the one we’d heard on the radio in his car the other day. The one he claimed to hate. The one he knew I loved.
When he began to sing the lyrics, I could feel my jaw slowly begin to drop. He had a good voice. Why had I never heard him sing before?
By the time he and his entourage arrived at our table, he finished singing the chorus but continued to strum the guitar. He raised his gaze to meet mine.
