I whipped around, back to my sketch, tried to get my hands busy drawing the outline. But my fingers trembled. I was desperately aware of Matt beside me. My arm goose-bumped under his gaze.
But a minute later, amid the bumps and swallowed curses echoing from the storage room, Matt pushed to his feet and walked around the tables, disappearing into the easel room.
I grit my teeth and swore under my breath.
An hour later, music drifted out of the easel room, along with more banging and thumps from the storage space. I was still in my seat. I’d retrieved a little mirror from Mrs. D and was whispering at Older Me while I pretended to work.
“I swear! He was going to kiss me! If Mrs. Driley hadn’t come in . . .” I trailed off, dabbing at what was supposed to be Mrs. D’s hair. So far I had an outline with a hint of shadow on the shoulder.
I didn’t need to see the mirror to know Older Me had her arms crossed, and her forehead was creased with lines. “I think it’s good that he didn’t get the chance—if that’s what he was going to do,” she said carefully.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered. “It was crazy. The only thing I can’t figure out is, if he was jealous of Dex and he wanted to kiss me, why is he avoiding me now?”
“Because he’s smart. Don’t do this, Ashley. Don’t be like Finn and Karyn. Don’t get pulled into these kinds of games. You’re not a cheater. Don’t become one.”
“Of course I’m not a cheater,” I whisper-snapped. “But she is. She doesn’t deserve any loyalty from me.”
“But Matt does,” she said. “If anything ever happens between you two it’s going to be complicated enough without throwing cheating into the mix. Don’t do it, Ashley. Don’t risk it. If he wants you, he’ll want you enough to break up with whoever.”
“Right.” I snorted and jabbed my brush at the canvas again. “Matt Gray breaking up with someone like Karyn for me. Right.”
“Stranger things have happened, Ashley,” she said, a wistful note in her voice.
“Not in my lifetime.”
“What was that, dear?” Out of nowhere, Mrs. Driley appeared on the other side of my table. I yelped and dropped my paintbrush.
“N-nothing!” I sang. “Just talking to myself . . . trying to figure out this painting, ha ha ha ha.”
Mrs. D flapped a hand at me. “It’s okay, Ashley, I get it,” she said. “I do that too. Trust me, it isn’t until your Self starts talking back that you’ve got a problem!” She brayed out a laugh and turned for the door, her footsteps fading a lot faster than the snorts and cackles.
I turned back to Older Me, uncertain whether to find the exchange ironically funny, or frighteningly close to home. But just as I opened my mouth, a thump sounded on Older Me’s side of the mirror. She gasped and was gone. And frustrating as that was, I almost didn’t want to talk to her anymore because the things she was saying rang true. And what if she said something that meant no future for me and Matt?
That thought kept me out of the easel room.
It sucked.
And so did Matt. Because he didn’t talk to me again all day.
Chapter Sixteen
“So, Matt almost kissed you?” Doc asks, sitting back in his chair.
Even now, uncertainty remains. “I think so . . . I mean, it was the first time Matt had ever shown any interest in me. And at the time, I wasn’t entirely sure it was even happening.”
“How so?” Doc asks, making another note on the pad. I briefly wonder what would if happen if I asked for a page to doodle on. I always feel calmer when my hands are busy. Instead, I trace the outline of a rose on my forearm.
“When you want something so badly, sometimes you overanalyze, see things that aren’t there.” I shrug. “Besides, it’s not like he did anything about it.”
“Did you do anything about it?”
“No!” I look up¸ horrified. “He had a girlfriend. The ball was in his court.”
“You didn’t believe Matt cared enough about you to break up with his girlfriend?” Doc asks casually.
“No. Not that way, at least,” I say.
Doc makes a hmmm sound. “Did you believe anyone could be attracted to you in that way?”
“Not back then.” My voice feels painfully small and pathetic, even to me.
Doc’s eyebrows slide up. “At which point did you believe it?”
I hesitate as the truth sinks in. “You know, Doc, I’m not sure. Even when things with Dex happened . . .”
“What things?”
I look up with a wry smile. “Well, you know.”
“Not really. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Well, there was that whole prom thing . . .”
•••
After several days without a hint of any more weird behavior from Matt, I convinced myself I’d been imagining the almost-kiss. Dex held my hand again a couple of times, but didn’t try anything more. I was starting to wonder if I was destined to be every guy’s best friend.
Then the prom posters started appearing.
If it hadn’t been a really good distraction for my tormentors, I would have cursed the timing. But on Monday, only one person shoved me, and on Tuesday, even Eli’s hissed request for “math tutoring” seemed halfhearted. Everyone was too busy strategizing how to score the perfect prom date.
And then there was me . . . the girl who’d famously gotten stood up the year before.
That Thursday, I gathered the courage to visit my locker before lunch. I’d been spending most breaks and lunches in the art room, but that morning I had to pick up my chemistry textbook for an open-book test.
As soon as I got within five feet of my locker, I knew something was wrong. The corner of a piece of paper stuck out from between the vents in the door, and a circle of freshman girls stood directly across the hall, watching me intently. I didn’t know any of them by name, but their wide, excited expressions were easy to recognize.
Something was up.
I considered skipping my locker and the textbook after all, but I couldn’t afford to go without the book for the test. I wrestled with the lock, then jiggled the handle until the door popped open with a clang. I took a deep breath and peered cautiously inside.
A piece of paper was taped to the top shelf, fluttering in the sudden breeze.
Ashley Watson, I think you have the hottest ass in this school. Will you go to prom with me? DEX
My hand flew to my mouth. For a moment I couldn’t even breathe. Then I noticed a large, clear plastic container behind the letter. With trembling hands I reached for it and pulled out a delicate but beautiful corsage of cream-colored roses tinged with yellow and red at the edges of the petals.
My first thought was: It’s a trick.
But then Dex’s voice sounded in my ear. “Do you like it?”
I looked up, startled at his soundless arrival. His smile was stiff and his eyes kept darting anxiously between the flowers and my face. And then I realized: He was afraid I’d say no.
“Are you serious?” I whispered, because what he was doing was uncharacteristically romantic. And if I said yes and we didn’t go after this . . .
His brow creased. “Of course,” he said softly. And I could have kissed him.
“Then I’d love to,” I said.
A smile broke like sunrise on his face. He cracked open the corsage cover and took out the gorgeous bloom.
“May I?” he asked.
I nodded. Heat flared in his eyes as his finger traced down my forearm and wrist to my hand. Then he very gently took my fingers and slipped the corsage over my wrist. As soon as he stopped touching me, I lifted the flowers for a closer look. They smelled amazing.
But Dex wasn’t finished. While I was still staring at the flowers he took my hand and placed an envelope in it. Inside were two tickets to the prom. He’d already bought them. I stared down at them for a second, fighting against the rising hope and excitement, reminding myself what had happened the year before.
“I’m going to do it right this time,” he whispered, still holding his hands over mine, as if to press the tickets into my skin.
My throat tightened. But for the first time I could ever remember . . . it was with happy tears. Suddenly, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world to pull my hand from his grip and cup his face and pull him down. To lay my lips on his, softly.
I took him by surprise. He stiffened for a moment and a bolt of pure embarrassment shot from my heart to my toes. I was about to pull away, when he came alive under my hands, pressing me back into the wall and tilting my chin to deepen the kiss. And I was so caught up in the moment, I completely forgot where we were, until someone wolf-whistled from the hallway.
I pushed Dex back quickly, but he never stopped staring at me, and I knew I was blushing to my hairline. As the bell jangled through the hall and the passing students picked up their pace, I swallowed and straightened myself. Dex took my hand and pulled me back into the hallway, grinning like he’d just won a prize.
I shook my head slightly, hardly daring to believe that anyone could look that happy to be with me.
Chapter Seventeen
Doc scratches his beard and frowns at his notes. “Tell me why you decided to go to prom with Dex, even when, at your own admission, you still had feelings for Matt?” Doc puts his analytical I’m listening to you face on and leans on his crossed knees.
“Geez, Doc.” I cross my arms over my chest. “You make it sound like it was a big deal. I was seventeen and I wanted to go to prom. Every girl did.”
Doc narrows his eyes. “I think there’s more to it than that, Ashley.”
“No, there isn’t. I wasn’t thinking that deeply back then—”
“Ashley, I know this is hard, but if we’re going to get through this, you have to be honest with me.”
“I am being honest.” Even I’m not convinced by my breathy voice. “I told you about who I see in the mirror.”
“Yet you’re reluctant to discuss the decisions you made with her. I know we’re approaching some difficult events. But if you’re serious about your release, you have to be willing to talk things over, even if they’re painful.”
“Going to prom with Dex wasn’t painful! At least, not the way you mean it.”
“Ashley—”
“No! I’m sick of this. I’m sick of everyone deciding they know what’s going on in my head. Some things aren’t deep!”
“Yet those very things can have incredibly deep consequences.”
I growl in frustration. Then I catch sight of the clock. It’s already 11:34.
My tension ratchets higher.
Fine. Let’s do this.
•••
“Are you completely nuts?” Matt hissed in my ear after the final bell rang that Thursday.
We stood at my locker. I smiled because I was going to prom and Matt had heard about it from someone else.
For once everyone was gossiping about me in a good way.
“What?” I pretended innocence. Slamming my locker door shut and clicking the lock into place, I started down the hall, smiling at my feet.
Matt leaned in. “Ashley, you can’t go to Finn’s after prom!”
“Wait, what?” I stopped midstride and turned to face him.
Matt jaw was set, and worry lines creased his brow. “It’s always trouble when you and Finn are near each other. You can’t go to his house overnight.”
“Matt, what are you talking about?”
He frowned. “Aren’t you going to prom with Dex? Which is, by the way, just about the worst idea known to man.”
“Yes. But what does that have to do with Finn?”
Matt shook his head. “Dex is training with the baseball team now, remember?”
I nodded. “So?”
“So, Dex is making friends, Ash. Finn invited him to the afterparty at his parents’ vacation home in Seaside. He said he’s coming. Which, if you’re going with him, means you’re coming, too.”
I hadn’t even thought about the afterparties. Could I risk another night like the one at Finn’s just for a date for the prom? “We haven’t talked about it,” I said warily. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Are you crazy, Ash? You won’t be able to just bail and walk home. You won’t even be able to have your own room. Finn’s only inviting couples. You do know what that means, right? Or do you not care?”
My mouth dropped open. Ignoring an urge to slap his self-righteous face, I turned on my heel and stormed down the hall. Matt followed right alongside.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said. “But you’re asking for trouble. This is Finn’s house. Are you hearing me?”
“Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.
We turned the corner into the main hall just as the bell screamed overhead.
“Ashley, stop!” Matt grasped my arm and pulled me around. He looked scared.
“What is your problem?” I jerked my arm out of his grip. “It’s up to me to decide if I’m going, okay? And if I do, I’ll stay out of Finn’s way.”
“And what about Dex? It’s an overnighter, Ash.” He let the implication hang.
I met his worried frown with a glare and stuck my chin out. “Are you going?”
He blinked. “Yes, but—”
“Are you taking Karyn overnight?”
His eyebrows shot up. “That’s not . . . I mean . . . ,” he spluttered.
A little part inside me died because I wanted him to say no. But I could see the double standard clicking into place behind his eyes, so I started walking again.
•••
The next morning before school, I heard my name echoing down the hallway behind me.
“I tried calling you last night, but the line was busy for hours.” Dex elbowed me lightly and grinned. “Busy talking to your other prom date?”
I shifted awkwardly on my feet. “Um, my mom was talking to an old friend.” It was a lie; I’d knocked the phone off the receiver after she’d gone to bed. I was worried Dex or Matt was going to call, and I wasn’t ready to talk about Finn’s party or in the mood for another lecture.
The only person I wanted to talk to was Older Me. I’d stayed up until four a.m., hoping she would show up with some timely advice. When she hadn’t, I’d had to make the decision on my own. There was no way around it: I simply couldn’t go to that party. If Dex didn’t want to go the dance with me because I couldn’t go to this stupid party, then . . . then I was just going to have to live with that.
Dex rubbed his hands together eagerly. “So, my mom’s letting me use the nice car for prom night, and I already booked my tux.”
“Sweet,” I said, glancing at the flow of everyone passing by. “Look, I heard about the party. At Finn’s?”
Dex nodded. “It’s going to be awesome. I just found out about it yesterday at lunch. And we’re invited.” His grin turned sly. “The girls are telling their parents that it’s a girls-only thing.”
“Oh.” I squared my shoulders. “Dex, you know Finn hates me, right?” I began. Fear churned in my stomach as his smile faltered.
He scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about it. They all used to hate me, too. They’re just—”
I put a hand on his arm. “No, you don’t understand, Dex. Finn hates me. Like, makes vomit noises every time he sees me, hates me. I don’t think . . . I don’t think I can go.”
He glanced around, then took my hand and pulled me through the flow of bodies to an alcove. “Look, I get it, okay?” He laced his fingers through mine. “But wouldn’t it be fun? For us, I mean?”
“Yeah,” I agreed uncertainly. “But—”
“How about this?” he said, and the gleam was back in his eye. “You talk to your mom and see if it’s even an option, and I’ll deal with Finn. Okay?”
A pang forced my mouth into a smile. I couldn’t resist. I put my free hand flat on his chest and felt the firm muscles there. “I’m just . . . I don’t think it’s that sim
ple.”
“Of course it is!” he said, hushed. “I know how to handle it. I’ll make Finn behave. I promise. Trust me.”
His eyes hooked mine and then he leaned down to kiss me. For a second, all thoughts of Matt or Karyn or Finn just disappeared.
When he pulled away, he smiled softly. “Deal?”
I nodded, hoping I wouldn’t regret this. “Deal.”
Chapter Eighteen
“You felt able to accept help from Dex, yet not from Matt?” Doc plucks at the material of his pants, frowning. “Why?”
I squirm. “It wasn’t like that. The thing with Dex . . . it kind of snuck up on me. And he’d been in my shoes before—unaccepted. He knew how it felt and what he was risking by sticking up for me. Matt always seemed to just believe things would magically work out even when all the evidence suggested otherwise.”
Doc folds his hands in his lap, watching me shift in my seat. “Is it possible Matt was optimistic because he wasn’t aware of ‘all the evidence,’ as you put it?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t be flippant, Ashley. I’m asking you to examine something. Do you think if you’d told Matt what life in that school was really like for you—from the beginning—do you think he might have worked harder to make it easier on you? Or helped find a solution?”
“I don’t think there was a solution,” I snap.
Doc tips his head like I’ve said something interesting. “Do you really believe that? Even now?”
“Yes, I do.” I meet him stare for stare because I’m not letting up on this.
“Is it possible, then, that your decisions contributed to the problem?”
My eyes narrow. “How do you figure?”
Doc opens a hand toward me. “If you didn’t believe your problem was solvable, then the decisions you made—any actions you took—were predicated on that belief. You didn’t take steps to solve the issue. You took steps to marginalize it. Correct?”
“Well . . . I mean . . . ,” I splutter.
Doc raises a hand to stop me. “I don’t mean that as a criticism. I’m just trying to help you peel back the layers of this. Are you able to see that your decision making was, many times, somewhat flawed?”
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