Prom King

by Penny Wylder

  “Sorry I’m not a better dancer,” I tease.

  He shakes his head. “You’re perfect.”

  I duck my head, because it feels like too much. I’m having a hard time believing that any of this is real. It feels too good. “I’m waiting for the shoe to drop,” I say. “For this all to be one big ten-year-long joke.”

  “It’s not.”

  “I know. I just—” I stop, trying to think of what I mean. “Things like this don’t happen.”

  We spin slowly in a circle, and it’s effortless following his lead. “Consider this the dance we should have had that night.”

  “I think for that I’d need a tiara.”

  He chuckles, and I feel the vibration through his body. “This is the Plaza, I can see what strings I can pull. If they were willing to set up a basketball hoop, I’m sure there’s a tiara around here somewhere.”

  “That’s okay,” I say. “If it’s all right with you, I’d rather have this dance be who we are now, not who we were.”

  “That’s fine with me,” he says softly.

  With these heels on I can just see over his shoulder, and Lorraine is behind him now, watching us and grinning like an idiot. I bite down on my lip to suppress my enormous smile.

  We dance in silence, and it feels so good, so comfortable. His thumb is stroking softly on my back and his lips rest gently against my temple. I close my eyes and let him guide us, reveling in the moment. I know that I said I didn’t want this to be a dance to make up for prom, but it still feels significant, like there’s a measure of healing in this for both of us.

  The song comes to an end, and for a moment the ballroom is quiet. There’s a spell cast over it, everyone caught in the nostalgia of the moment. And then another upbeat song comes on and it’s broken, and people start to dance again. “Drink?” he asks, already helping me through the crowd toward the bar.

  He’s right, I’m thirsty. There’s a bunch of people near the bar, including some of the guys that swarmed us earlier. Adam spots a table and asks, “What would you like? I’ll grab it.”

  “Vodka cranberry.” I need something stronger than wine.

  He nods. “I’ll be right back.”

  As soon as he’s gone, I feel hands on my shoulders. “Oh. My. God. OLLIE.” It’s Lor.

  “I admit,” I say, “you were right and I’m forever indebted to you, et cetera.”

  “Girl, you don’t owe me a thing.”

  I smile. “All the same, I think I’m going to buy you some chocolate.”

  “The good kind please.”

  “As if I would ever get anything less than the best for you.” I fake a gasp. And then I glance toward the bar. Adam is still waiting for the drinks, so I’ve got a couple minutes. “I need help.”

  Lor makes a face, “From what I saw you don’t need any help at all.”

  “I think I—” I swallow. “I think I want to invite him home.”

  “So do it. You deserve it.”

  I sigh. “Yeah, but remember the last time I asked a guy home? That ended pretty badly.”

  “You can’t possibly be comparing Adam Carlisle to douchey Tinder guy.”

  “Well—”

  Lorraine leans forward and grabs me by the shoulders. “This isn’t the same. You guys have known each other for years. He’s the one that approached you, I saw it. And the way you two were dancing?” She fans her face. “There’s no chance that he says no.”

  “But if he does, I’m going to be an absolute mess.”

  “If he does,” she says, “I’m going to punch him in the nuts.”

  I start to giggle, because it’s so ridiculous and I have no doubt whatsoever that she would follow through. I see Adam step up to the bar. “Okay, he’s going to come back now.”

  “You can do this, just breathe, and good luck.”

  “Okay.” The thought of doing this kind of makes me want to throw up from anxiety, but her confidence helps. “Before you go, Joey Lancaster?”

  She shrugs, “He was good in high school, and he’s hotter now. I’m thinking I’ll see if he’s learned any new moves.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes. “Go get ‘em tiger.”

  Adam turns and makes his way back to me, and nerves punch me in the gut. I clench my hands into fists and release them to try to relieve some of the shaking.

  “Here you go.” Adam passes me my drink, and he has one of his own.

  I take a big sip, and it helps a little. “I have something to ask you, and I’m nervous.”

  “Okay, I promise I’m not that scary.”

  “It’s just that the last time I did this it didn’t go well.”

  Adam looks confused. “Okay.”

  “I was wondering if you wanted to come back to my apartment.” My stomach rolls with nerves and maybe the alcohol was a bad idea because now I feel kind of light-headed. I can’t remember when I ate last. My palms are sweaty and I’m hanging on Adam’s expression figuring out if I’m going to need to go bury myself in a hole in Central Park.

  His face turns from confusion to a perfect, beautiful smile. He throws back his drink in one go, and puts it down on the table. “Ready to go when you are.”

  Sweet, pure, relief floods my system, and I copy him by finishing my drink in one long sip. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  9

  Adam

  I take Olivia by the hand and walk through the ballroom as quickly as I can without drawing attention or making Ollie think that the only reason I said yes was for sex. I mean, I fucking hope there’s sex because my dick has been as hard as a rock since I kissed her, and every time I look at her in that dress, I think I lose a little more blood flow to my brain.

  But it’s more than that. I want to be with her, in her space, in her bed. I want to talk to her and find out all the things I didn’t when I first had the chance. I want to find out what kind of things she likes to read and do, and then I want to do all those things with her. I want to know how her family is and what her life has been like these last ten years. I didn’t lie to her when I said that I’d thought about her. I have thought about her a lot in the last ten years, but I never thought that this would happen.

  If I were in her position, I honestly don’t know if I would have forgiven me. I should have done so much more to help her. Telling her what really happened would have been a good fucking start.

  I really should have asked her if I could kiss her first, but I didn’t see another way to show her my real reaction. And god, kissing Ollie is like…

  I don’t have words for it. Never in my life have I had a kiss like that. Who knows if it’s ten years of pent-up emotions or the fact that she looks stunning tonight, but I’d be stupid if I gave up this opportunity, sex or no.

  She was so nervous asking me to come over, it makes me wonder why. It’s something I want to ask, but this isn’t the time or place to ask it. I let go of her for a second so I can pull out a tip for the doorman, and he flags down a cab for us. I hold the door open for her and she slides in first. As soon as I’m inside, I pull her close. I don’t want her to think that there’s any hesitation on my part. At all. I don’t know if I can express how much I actually want this, and this is an easy way to help with that.

  Besides, it’s not exactly a hardship to have Ollie this close to me. I can feel the shape of her so clearly through her dress, and yet it still feels like there’s so much hidden.

  She gives her address to the driver and off we go, speeding towards the 59th Street Bridge. She looks at me, and her expression is puzzled in the passing streetlights. “This is so weird.”

  “What?”

  “You’re here with me. We’re going to my apartment.”

  I lean down close so that the cab driver doesn’t hear me. “Want to be a cliché and make out in the cab?”

  “I’m pretty much always down for being a cliché,” she says.

  I kiss her, and the way her lips open under mine has my cock harder than it’s ever been and need tugging in
my gut to have more of her. I pull her toward me until she’s practically in my lap and I can stroke my hand down across her hip, savor her curves. She tastes like the cranberry in the drink that she just had, and I can smell whatever perfume she has on, light lavender and vanilla and I love it.

  When I decided to go to the reunion, I thought I would be there for an hour and then go home; never to see anyone again. This is way, way better. The way she’s leaning into me, kissing me back, I wish we’d had this when we were eighteen. But then again, maybe it’s better that we’re trying this now. Later. After having time to let the rest of that go.

  It seems like only minutes before the cab pulls to a stop in front of an apartment building in Queens. One of the older ones, easily pre-war. We disentangle long enough for me to pay the cab driver and then I help her out of the cab. The lobby of her building has been updated, a nice glass door and crystal chandelier decorate the marble foyer. There’s a code lock on the door too.

  She lets us in the first door to the foyer, and the second door to the stairs. “It’s a walk-up,” she says. “Sorry.”

  I saw the building from outside—it’s only a three-story building, and that’s how many floors we go up. Stopping in front of a door that has panes of frosted glass, she turns to me. “Would you mind waiting outside for a couple of minutes?”

  “Why? You have someone else inside?” I tease.

  She blushes, and it’s the perfect shade of pink. I want to see if I can make her blush other places, in other ways. “No, it’s just I wasn’t exactly expecting company. I want to clean a couple of things up.”

  I laugh. “I don’t care about that.”

  “You say that now, but you might.”

  “I won’t. You haven’t seen a mess until you’ve seen the residents’ locker room.”

  Ollie bites her lip, and it’s adorable. “Still, I could just pick a couple of things up.”

  “What if I promise to keep my eyes closed until you’re happy.”

  “Promise?”

  I won’t lie, I’m curious to see what exactly she thinks is messy. “I promise I’ll give you at least a minute.”

  “That’s all I need.” She gets a key from under the mat and unlocks the door. “My key is still with my stuff at Bergdorf’s. Lorraine is having it messengered over tomorrow. Now close your eyes.”

  I do, and she takes my hand and leads me inside. In my head I start counting to sixty, and I hear the sounds of Ollie kicking off her shoes, hurried footsteps and the clink of some glasses. Her footsteps disappear deeper into the apartment and I hear shuffling and a few more sounds like dishware clinking. “Can I open my eyes?” I ask, even though I’ve only counted to forty-five.

  “Not yet! Just one more minute.”

  There’s a few thumps, and her footsteps running quickly past me. More clinking. “Okay, I guess that’s as good as I can do.”

  I open my eyes, and look around. Her apartment is nice, dove gray walls and a simple foyer with a door to the left into the kitchen. I see some dishes in the sink and some towels in a pile, but nothing else that I would immediately assign as dirty or messy.

  Ollie’s dress is now pooling around her feet, and I can see her bare toes peeking out from beneath the dress. She’s fidgeting like she’s waiting for me to pass judgment on her and the apartment. “I like your place,” I say.

  “But—”

  “I’m not sure what you call messy, but this isn’t it.”

  She bites her lip again. “Okay.”

  We go into the living room and I see a few things here and there out of place, a little clutter. But it makes the place look lived in, not messy. “Do you want something to drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay,” she says, heading back to the kitchen. Her face looks relieved that she has something to do, and I realize that she’s nervous. I suppose with our history that it makes sense.

  While she’s in the kitchen, I take the time to look around the room. There’s a couch that looks really comfortable, a small TV, a wall filled with an asymmetrical collage of art prints and a couple of large bookshelves. So she’s a reader more than a television person. Given what I know of Ollie from high school, it fits.

  The shelves are more eclectic than I would have thought, though. Just scanning I see business books, biographies, fiction, mythology and poetry. So she reads everything. Good to know. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the World’s Waterfall series on the top shelf. The third book looks particularly beat up, and I wonder if it’s the same copy that she used to own. I’ll have to ask her sometime.

  “Here you go,” she says, and I turn to take one of the glasses of wine that she’s holding.

  “Thank you.” I nod to the bookshelves. “So you still like to read.”

  She sighs, but in a relaxed way. This is safe territory for her. “Yeah. Always have. I try to make time for it still, even though I’d like to do more.”

  “I wish I read more, but a lot of days I barely have the energy to fall into bed.”

  Ollie sits down on the couch and tucks her feet up under her. “Are things that hard at the hospital?”

  “No, not always.” I sit on the other end of the couch. “But it’s Columbia. We’ve got a lot of difficult cases. And in pediatrics, kids can be hard. They don’t always get what’s happening, and it can be rough.”

  She takes a sip of her wine. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not,” I say. “I like what I do. But it helps to acknowledge the difficulties.”

  “Yeah,” Ollie says. She seems way more comfortable now, and I wonder if it’s because we’re not talking about her. “Do you have something you want to do inside pediatrics? A specialty within a specialty?”

  I shake my head. “No. General pediatrics. But things can get complicated with kids, so even though I’m considered ‘general’ it still feels like a specialty. You get pulled into all kinds of strange cases just because things can go wrong really fast in little humans.”

  The wine she’s chosen is good, and I know that I’m a bit drunk with this and the drinks I had at the reunion. But not so drunk that I’m about to get sloppy. She takes another sip, and I like the way she’s relaxing. Like this is a normal and she’s not about to bolt.

  “So you went to college, where?”

  “Dartmouth,” she says.

  I grin. I knew it would be somewhere amazing. “That’s awesome. And then what happened?”

  “You want my whole life story?” she asks, cheeks turning pink again.

  “I do,” I say. “I want to know everything.”

  “Everything is a lot.”

  I nod. “True. How about just for now, you tell me about your job.”

  “My job is boring.” She says it so automatically that it doesn’t even sound like her saying it.

  I move a little closer on the couch. “Do you say it’s boring because you actually think it’s boring? Or because you assume other people already think that it’s boring?”

  Ollie blinks, and looks at me suddenly. “No one’s ever asked that before.”

  “Well what’s the truth?”

  She thinks for a second. “It’s like half and half. There are a lot of parts of my job that are boring. Repetitive. But that’s not always a bad thing. It can be comforting. There’s no room for error when you’re dealing with numbers. You always know where you stand.” A pause. “But I really hate learning the updated tax code every year.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, I doubt anyone would like that kind of reading.”

  “You’d be surprised,” she says. “There are people who are even nerdier than me.”

  “Nothing wrong with being nerdy,” I say, moving closer again. We’re close to touching now.

  She laughs into her wine glass. “You’re the least nerdy person that I can think of.”

  “Trust me, everyone is a nerd about something. Besides, we haven’t seen each other in ten years. I could be the world’s biggest super-nerd and you wouldn’t know.”r />
  “That’s true,” she says, leaning closer to me. “But you don’t look like a nerd.”

  “Something that works in my favor,” I say softly, closing the distance between us. I take the glass out of her hand and put them both on the table. Then, reaching out, I slip my hand behind her neck. “Is this all right?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  And then I kiss her.

  10

  Ollie

  The wine and the vodka are making me feel warm and fuzzy. I feel comfortable now, and not as anxious. Adam leans in and kisses me, and this one is soft and slow and easy. It feels good.

  I’m so happy that I had the guts to ask him to come here and that he said yes. I like that he tastes like wine and whiskey, and the way his fingers tease the skin around my neck. Here, when we’re alone, I get to feel everything I wanted to feel while we were dancing. I don’t have to worry about making a fool of myself in front of people who still hate me.

  Suddenly my body is raring to go, all the arousal I shoved aside comes surging back. I pull Adam to me, and he is right there, not missing a step. He licks across my lips and it sends fire down my spine. I have to gasp for air but I don’t want to stop kissing him. I want him on me, in me. It’s been a long time, but even if it hadn’t, the way this feels would be exquisite. There’s raw chemistry between us waiting to explode, and I realize that I’m wet. That’s how badly I want him.

  We’re lying together on the couch now, legs tangled together, and my dress is up almost to my hips. One of my straps is falling off my shoulder, lowering my neckline to a dangerous level. And the fact it has no back…it feels like I’m showing more skin than I’m covering. I feel sexy and powerful, and I pull back far enough to see Adam’s face. He knows the state of my dress too, I can see it in his eyes. The want and need that makes mine that much more powerful.

  “Ollie, I need to ask,” he says, chest rising and falling heavily. “How far is this going tonight?”

  There’s cold drip of fear in my gut. “Do you want to stop?”