Glitter and Sparkle

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “Do you surrender?” His voice is full of good humor.

  I want to say “never” and play this out, see where it will go. Instead, I sag in his arms. “Yes, fine. You win.”

  Slowly, he releases his grip on me. Then, just as I’m stepping away, he swipes the brush across the back of my neck.

  I squeal and whip around. When I lunge at him, he grabs me in his arms, holding me tight so I can’t move my brush. Our eyes meet, and we both freeze. I can feel the breath hitch in his chest.

  My eyes slowly slide from his eyes to his shoulder. The moment is too much.

  Harrison knows it too.

  Just as he’s loosening the grip on me so I can step back, the gymnasium door swings open. We jump the rest of the way apart, Harrison looking as guilty as I feel.

  Riley stands there, staring at us. Her cheeks turn pink, and she looks at the ground. “I thought you needed help, so I…”

  She looks at me, her face twisting in hurt.

  “Riley—”

  “It looks like you’re pretty much done, though.” Her gaze falls to the decorations we’ve been working on. “I’m going to go…”

  She turns on her heel and rushes out the door.

  Harrison sets his paintbrush down and runs a hand through his hair, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “I’ll call her as soon as I’m done here,” I interrupt.

  He nods. “I need to get to the airport anyway.”

  I collect the painting supplies, getting ready to wash them out. “When’s the wedding?”

  “Tomorrow morning.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?”

  “It was hard taking time off of work as it was,” he answers. “It would have been impossible to stay there longer.”

  “When are you coming back?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  It’s good he’ll be gone tomorrow. It would be too awkward, him seeing you in your prom dress. You waiting for his reaction when it’s Grant’s that’s supposed to matter.

  “Thanks for helping,” I say, striving for normal. “I hope you have a good flight.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets, just as I expect him to do—just as he does every time things become a little too tense between us. “You’re welcome.”

  Another silence settles, and both of us try not to look at each other.

  Finally, after exchanging an awkward goodbye, he leaves.

  As soon as he’s out the door, I crumple to the floor. I’ve hurt Riley, and though nothing happened, I feel guilty.

  But I was stepping back—so was he. We knew we stepped out of bounds, and we were fixing it.

  We were.

  But neither of us wanted to.

  I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the tension. And that’s how Riley finds me. Apparently, she didn’t leave after all.

  Without a word, she settles to the floor, the picture of limber grace.

  “Hey.” I don’t meet her eyes.

  “Hey.”

  I stare at the drying paint in the tray. It’s going to be such a pain to clean up now.

  “You could have told me you liked him,” Riley says.

  Sure, I could deny it. But what’s the point? It would be a lie.

  “If it helps, I really tried not to like him.” I inspect one of my broken fingernails. “I should have told you.”

  She sighs and leans back on her palms. “Honestly? I already knew. Everyone knew. Good grief, even Grant knew, but he didn’t want to admit it to himself.”

  Feeling miserable, I sink into myself.

  “He has it so bad for you.”

  I look up, peering at her from under the long bangs that have escaped my ponytail. “Grant?”

  Obviously not mad, she stretches her legs out. “Harrison. He’s absolutely head over heels in love with you. Everyone knows that, too.”

  My heart warms, but then I’m hit with another wave of guilt.

  “You think so?”

  She smirks, looking like the cat who ate the canary. “Of course I do. Why else wouldn’t he want me?”

  I roll my eyes.

  Suddenly, she sits straight up and looks at the clock on the wall. “Lauren! Weren’t you supposed to be at Grant’s game two hours ago?”

  I go cold, and a hard knot forms in my stomach. “I forgot.”

  This is bad, bad, bad. I didn’t even call him.

  I drop my hands to my lap and place my forehead on my clasped palms. “No one showed up, and I had a bunch of paper flowers to make…”

  “He’ll forgive you.” She sounds like she really believes it, too.

  I’m not so sure.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  May 21st

  The weather is perfect for an outdoor dance. It’s growing hot today, the warmest day we’ve had this spring, and the evening is supposed to be in the seventies and clear. The gardens are in full bloom, and I realize I was silly to have worried so much about the pink peonies clashing. We’re surrounded by all colors of flowers. Mine would have fit in no matter what color they were.

  However, the coral and light pink paper flowers interspersed in the arrangements are absolutely beautiful, if I do say so myself. All the centerpieces are sitting inside the visitor’s center, waiting until this afternoon to be put out. I can’t wait to see them with the ivory sequined tablecloths.

  The band has come early to check out their space for the evening, and Janna is speaking with them now, going over her checklist.

  I’ve just finished attaching the balloons and paper flowers around our welcome sign, and I wander over to supervise the decorations on the lattice arbor. They’ve attached the balloon arch to it, and I have to say it looks festive and not at all tacky, as I had originally feared.

  Kally is draping wreaths over the streetlight-style garden lights, and several other students are decorating the perimeter of the area with tulle.

  Everything is going exactly as planned, which is good because my nail and hair appointment is in thirty minutes.

  I wander over to Janna, who’s now finished speaking with the band. “Is there anything else you want me to do before I go?”

  She looks at her checklist and clicks her tongue as she reads over the items. “Archway, centerpieces, concession table…I think we’re good.”

  “I’ll be back at six to dress the tables.”

  “Everything looks amazing, Lauren. You’re really good at this.”

  “Thank you,” I say modestly. “It was a group effort.”

  I survey the area. Even though a great deal of the ideas were mine, there would be no way I could pull this all together by myself.

  Janna’s eyes shift behind me, and her eyes light. “Hey, Grant. I didn’t think you were going to make it this morning.”

  I freeze. He said he wasn’t coming. I bite my lip, terrified to face him. He wasn’t happy with me last night when we talked on the phone.

  “I need to borrow Lauren for a bit,” he says.

  “I’m done for now.” I turn but try not to meet his eyes.

  Janna’s gaze flickers between us, and I’m sure she can tell something is off. “See you tonight, Lauren.”

  Grant motions to a nearby pathway that winds through the garden. “You want to go for a walk?”

  I’m going to be late for my appointment if I don’t leave now, but something tells me it’s best not to mention it.

  “Sure.”

  Grant takes my hand, but it feels wrong. I grow nervous as we leave the others behind. When we reach a secluded area, he leads me to a bench.

  It feels like a romantic hideaway, a garden room hidden just for us. Roses bloom on well-tended bushes, and birds twitter from the dappled branches of the trees.

  I sit, nervous, and Grant joins me.

  He turns my hands over in his, lightly brushing my palms with his thumbs. “Lauren, I’ve been doing a lot—”

  “If this is about yest
erday,” I interrupt. “You have to know how very sorry I am. Nothing went right—”

  “It’s not yesterday.” Then his expression turns wry. “Well, not just yesterday.”

  He’s breaking up with me. Prom is less than eight hours away, and he’s breaking up with me.

  I suck in a shaky breath, already feeling the mortified tears glisten in my eyes.

  Grant looks down at our clasped hands. “I like you, Lauren. I probably like you too much, in fact. But I’m not sure I like us.”

  Blinking back tears before he sees them, I say, “What do you mean?”

  He looks up, meeting my gaze. “You hate coming to my games. You don’t like my friends. We never seem to have anything to talk about.”

  I, too, look down at our hands. He’s right about all those things.

  Grant continues, “And I love that you love beautiful things—and I love that you’re beautiful—but sometimes…sometimes I wish you’d just let it go. Wear your hair in a knot. Put on a pair of sneakers.”

  I wait for him to say the words, for him to end it. My heart clenches, and it hurts. It really hurts. I like Grant. I like him so much…but deep down, I know that everything he’s saying is true.

  He looks up and waits for me to meet his eyes.

  “Despite all that,” he says, his voice quiet, “I think we could still work. If you want it to work.”

  I wait for him to finish, unsure what to say, unsure what he wants me to say.

  He waits for a beat, and then he squeezes my hands. “Do we want it to work? Or should we call it a game and part as friends?”

  It’s the sports analogy that does me in. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with it, but it makes his point like nothing else could.

  “You’re right. We’re not good together,” I say. “But it hurts…I don’t want to let you go.”

  Grant lets out a long, slow sigh. He squeezes my hand. “Me either. I really do like you, Lauren.”

  “You won’t hate me, will you?” The tears spill over even though I try to hold them back. “I…I can’t imagine the thought of you hating me.”

  Grant chuckles and pulls me into a hug. “I couldn’t hate you. Never.”

  “I know you might not think so, but I tried. I really did.” I lean against his T-shirt. “Why didn’t we work?”

  Gently, he takes my shoulders and holds me back so I have to look at him. His smile is sad and maybe the tiniest bit bitter. “Maybe it’s because someone else had your heart before I ever got to it.”

  My first instinct is to deny it, but what’s the point now? We’re over. It’s better just to move on.

  He glances at his watch. “Didn’t you have an appointment to get to? I’m afraid you’re going to be late.”

  “I don’t think I really need to go now.”

  “I’m still taking you to prom,” Grant says. “I wouldn’t ditch you like that.”

  I shake my head, feeling ill. I’m going to miss my senior prom. I’m going to miss the prom that I’ve practically designed from start to finish.

  “Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes worried. “You’ve worked so hard on this. I don’t want to be the reason you miss it.”

  I know what would happen if we went tonight. We’d dance under the stars, laugh at a candlelit table. It would be magical and perfect, and we’d end up right back together again, repeating the cycle that we’re doomed to repeat until we finally walk away for good.

  It’s better now than later. It hurts, but it would hurt more down the road. Resentment will begin to grow between us, and I don’t ever want to resent Grant. I want to remember these last few months as being a sweet gift. No, maybe we weren’t perfect for each other, but I still dated the kindest, most popular boy in high school.

  How many girls can say that?

  But it’s time to say goodbye.

  Instead of answering him, I lean in and give him one last soft kiss. “It’s just a dance, right? I’ll be fine. Besides, now you don’t have to wear that vest you hated.”

  He looks like he’s going to argue, but then he just gives me a small smile. “I really do hate that vest.”

  I swipe at my eyes and laugh. “I know you do.”

  ***

  I slide into my car, feeling numb. I’m not going to prom. Grant and I just broke up.

  I’m not going to prom.

  A solitary tear slides down my cheek, and it’s soon followed by another. I take out my phone and dial Riley’s number. It immediately goes to her voice mail.

  My heart aches, and I need to talk to someone. I don’t want to call Mom. I can’t call Dad.

  There’s only one option left, and I’m not excited about it.

  “Lauren?” my brother says when he answers the phone. “Can’t figure out the controls on the TV again?”

  I lose it. I bawl into my phone, telling Brandon everything.

  And my stupid, annoying, jerky older brother talks to me for thirty minutes, telling me it’s going to be all right, telling me I made the right choice.

  “It’s awful,” I say after most of the tears have ebbed. “But the worst thing is that I’m going to miss prom. I’ve worked so hard, and I’m going to miss it.”

  “You’re such a girl,” Brandon says, his voice teasing. “Your boyfriend breaks up with you, and all you can think about is the dress you’ll never wear.”

  I know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but I hiccup and start to sob again.

  It’s a really fabulous dress.

  “Listen,” Brandon says. “You don’t need a date. Go alone, hang out with Riley, dance with anyone you want.”

  “I can’t just go by myself,” I gasp, appalled at the very thought.

  “Yes, you can. Because you’re awesome, and you don’t need a guy to confirm that.”

  I close my eyes. “Okay.”

  “I mean it,” he says, using his stern voice. “You get yourself to that dance, do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now you better go because you only have seven hours to get beautiful, and trust me—you’re going to need every minute.”

  He laughs at his joke, thinking he’s terribly funny. I have to hold back a watery smile, amused with how pleased he is with himself.

  “Thanks, Brandon.”

  “Anytime—as long as it’s after nine in the morning. No early morning calls, got it?”

  I roll my eyes, say goodbye, and then end the phone call.

  I’m going to prom. Alone. All by myself.

  This is going to be the worst night.

  ***

  My gown is a stunning confection of pale pink fabric. The bodice is satin, and the skirt is embellished with sparkles galore. It flares out at my hips and falls to the floor in a waterfall of chiffon.

  It’s everything I’ve dreamed of and more.

  If I only had a date, it would be perfect.

  As I’m brooding, I accidentally poke myself in the eye with my mascara wand. I blink several times, trying to clear my vision. When I can see again, I find a dark smudge right under my eye. Growling, I wipe it away and touch up my under-eye concealer.

  Without the makeup, it would be very obvious that I’ve been crying most of the day. Luckily, concealer is almost as fabulous as glitter.

  I ended up skipping my nail and hair appointment. I wasn’t up for the stylist’s inquisitive questions. She’d want to know what I was wearing, who I was going with…why I was crying.

  At this point, I just want to see my decorated tables.

  With my hair twisted in a simple chignon instead of in an elaborate updo, I get into my car. Mom and Dad are already gone for the weekend, so there’s no one to snap pictures of me leaving.

  Thank goodness.

  I arrive at the botanical gardens five minutes early, but several people on the committee have already beat me. They’re putting the plain white tablecloths on the tables, and I’m just in time to help with the sequined tops. The setting sun sinks low, and the garden lig
hts flicker on in the dusky, tree-shaded light.

  After the tablecloths are in place, I place the coral and pink peony centerpieces. Finally, I turn on the battery operated candles at each table.

  “It looks amazing!” Janna gushes after I place the last light. “So much better than the convention center.”

  It does look amazing. It’s just as beautiful as I had hoped it would be.

  A slight breeze blows through, and it carries with it the warmth of the day. It will be a beautiful night.

  But I’ve seen enough. It’s time to go home.

  “I’m leaving,” I tell Janna.

  She looks horrified. “You’re what?”

  “I’m leaving,” I repeat. “I just wanted to let you know in case there was anything else you wanted me to take care of first.”

  “It nearly killed us to get all this together. Are you sure you can’t stay?” She motions to my dress. “At least for a little while?”

  Riley is coming with a guy I don’t know. She’ll be busy all night, and I don’t want to crash her evening. All the guys will have dates, so there will be no one to dance with.

  “I’m sure.”

  She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, but I stride from my fairyland garden anyway. Just as couples are arriving, I sweep my sparkling gown into the car, unpin my hair, and drive away from prom.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  May 21st - Cont.

  “What do you mean you’re not coming to prom!” Riley exclaims.

  “I mean I’m not coming to prom.”

  I thought the sentiment was rather self-explanatory.

  “Lauren!” Riley whines. “You have to come!”

  With a long sigh, I lean my head against the back of the couch. The house is lonely with my parents gone and Harrison off in Connecticut.

  Just the thought of Harrison makes my heart flutter, but just as soon as it does, a wave of guilt washes over me.

  Poor Grant. He was right. My heart was always somewhere else.

  “You’ll have a good time,” I assure Riley. “I would be such terrible company tonight. All I’ve done is cry.”

  She makes a soft, sad noise. “I’m sorry I pushed you into it, Lauren.”

  I close my eyes. “Pushed me into what?”