by Todd, E. L.
“I’m glad I have a hot date,” Breccan said, staring at her with an approved expression. His eyes lit up while he slid the corsage onto her wrist.
Calloway rolled his eyes, wishing his cousin would say something more appropriate and complimentary.
“And I’m honored that you finally agreed to go with me,” Breccan added.
Easton smiled at him. “Was that so hard?”
Breccan shrugged. “I guess not,” he said. “It’s a lot easier when you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” Easton said, blushing bright red.
Aunt Grace emerged from the corner, the tears glistening in her eyes. “Now it’s time for pictures!”
Breccan grabbed Easton’s hand and pulled her out the door. “Run!”
“Wait,” Aunt Grace said as she ran after them. “Just one! It’s your prom!”
Calloway extended his arm to Weston. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes,” she said as she took his arm.
They walked out of the house and approached Easton’s car in the driveway. Aunt Grace was trying to take pictures of Breccan and Easton while they jumped inside the car.
She sighed in frustration. “Just take one!”
Calloway tapped his aunt on the shoulder. “Would you take a picture of us?”
Aunt Grace practically clicked her heels. “Of course,” she said excitedly. She held up the camera and aimed the lens at their faces.
Weston wrapped her arm around Calloway’s waist and leaned her head on his shoulder, and Calloway’s reciprocated her affection. The flash blinded their eyes and they dropped their pose.
“Let me take another,” Aunt Grace said.
Breccan opened the car door. “Quick! Get in!”
Calloway grabbed Weston by the hand and they ran to the car, laughing hysterically while Aunt Grace chased them like a paparazzi, taking random pictures of their pursuit. When they were inside the car, the flash of the camera continued to blind them.
“Leave them alone!” Uncle Scott said.
“Hit it,” Breccan said. “Before my mom has a chance to reload.”
Easton pulled out of the driveway and sped down the street, running away from Aunt Grace and her camera, and the laughed until they reached the end of the street.
“I’m so glad that we’ll never have to deal with that again,” Breccan said as he leaned back in his chair.
“Well, what about graduation?” Eason asked.
Breccan was quiet for a moment. “Damn.”
Easton laughed. “I think it’s cute.”
“And I think it’s annoying—as hell.”
“I love your mom and you should, too,” Easton said.
“She’s alright,” he said. Easton elbowed him in the gut, making him moan in discomfort. “Fine! I love my mommy. There!”
Weston laughed then moved closer to Calloway in the back seat. Her legs were crossed and Calloway felt them brush against his thigh, sliding past his pant leg. Then she grabbed his hand. She was so close to him that he could feel her breaths fall on his cheek—he wasn’t sure what was happening.
The feel of her hand in his felt right—perfect—and he caressed her fingertips with his own, feeling the plain ring on her finger. The unexpected affection confused him—immensely—she claimed they couldn’t be associated together but now she was holding his hand. Beatrice was nowhere in sight so the affection was unnecessary, although he enjoyed it. Sometimes he wondered if she did have feelings for him—felt the same way he did—but then he dismissed the idea. She was a classic heartbreaker that flirted with men until they fell for her, only to reject their feelings as soon as they expressed them. Since this was the last night he would see Weston he decided to make the best of it. Calloway wrapped his arm around her shoulder and held her close to him, taking in the natural scent on her skin, which reminded him of honey and vanilla. His hand still held hers as they drove to the campus down the road.
“Thank you for coming with me,” he whispered into her ear.
“And thank you for asking me.” She smiled. “I like having a reason to dress up.”
“You could dress up while you cook,” he suggested. “That would a marvelous sight.”
“That’s an interesting suggestion,” she said. “I’ll think about it. But I’ll probably have to wear an apron over my gown—I can be messy.”
“You’ll still look classy.”
“Well, of course.” She smiled. “I always look classy.”
Calloway laughed. He admired her confidence, especially since she never sounded arrogant or conceited, just sure of herself. Most women were full of self-doubt and uncertainty but not Weston—she knew how special she was. The sorrow that had been plaguing him for days disappeared the moment they were together. The touch of her hand kept the pain away, and the sound of her voice, light and merry, made him feel at ease. It reminded him of her home lit in the flames of candlelight, calm and subdued. Weston was his safe haven from the world. Calloway wondered if she knew that.
When he looked in the rearview mirror, he saw Easton watching them closely, and he knew he would be interrogated later about their unnatural affection. Calloway knew it was odd, inexplicable, but he didn’t question it—he wanted to be close to her.
The campus came into sight when they entered the parking lot. The music in the auditorium could be heard at a distance, even through the windows of the car. When they climbed out of the vehicle Calloway turned to Weston.
“Do you need my jacket?” he asked. It wasn’t very cold. In fact, he felt a little warm, but he wanted to ask anyway—just to be sure.
“No,” she smiled. “But thank you.”
They walked to the entrance and Weston grabbed his hand again, holding it tightly in her own. The length of her hand fit within his perfectly. Her fingers were small and thin, sliding through his with ease.
Breccan didn’t touch Easton as they approached the prom. They stayed a few feet away from each other, almost like they despised one another, but Calloway didn’t dwell on it. They never made any sense. But then again, neither did him and Weston. Since Calloway just experienced a breakup, Weston probably assumed that the affection meant nothing on his part—she couldn’t be more wrong.
There were balloons and streamers across the room and students were already dancing in the middle of the floor, swaying to the upbeat music. A table laden with sweets and snacks was tucked in the back, along with punch, soda, and water. Calloway looked for Beatrice in the crowd but didn’t see her. He wasn’t sure why he was searching—he didn’t want to look at her.
“How long do we have to stay?” Breccan shouted over the music.
Easton stared at him. “The whole time.”
“But that’s like three hours,” he said. “We don’t talk to anyone outside the three of us so why are we even here? Let’s just go get milkshakes like last time. Mom will never know.”
“Well, the ticket was expensive,” Calloway said. “I would like to get my money’s worth.”
“You weren’t complaining when you spent six hundred dollars on a suit!” he snapped.
Easton elbowed him in the gut. “Don’t speak to Calloway like that.”
Breccan rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“It’s okay,” Calloway said. “I was being an idiot—I admit it. I should have listened to you guys to begin with.”
Easton’s eyes softened at his words. “Did she say why?”
“She said she was fed up with you,” Calloway explained. “She thought I had feelings for you the entire time.”
“Why?” Easton asked incredulously. “Why would she think that?”
Calloway shifted his weight and Weston moved closer to him, tightening her fingers around his. “When she asked me to stop seeing you, I refused.”
Easton stared at him for a moment, unsure how to respond to the revelation. “You did?” she asked quietly.
“I would never pick her over you,” Calloway said. “I’m sorry I made you doubt
me.”
Easton sighed. “And we’re sorry we gave you such a hard time about her.”
“We?” Breccan asked incredulously. “I’m not sorry at all. Beatrice was bad news from the start.”
Easton ignored him. “If we hadn’t been such jerks it may have been different,” she said. “I’m so sorry, Calloway. We weren’t being very supportive.”
“It’s water under the bridge,” Calloway said. “We were both at fault. Let’s just forget about it.”
“Okay/” Easton smiled.
Weston leaned toward him. “Let’s dance.”
“I’m not very good,” he said.
“Neither am I.” She pulled him toward the dance floor and Calloway followed her. When they were in the middle of the room, Weston started to move her body and Calloway was captivated by the sight. He had never danced before but he didn’t feel embarrassed for trying it now. With her, everything was easy and fun. Calloway grabbed her hand spun her around, watching her dress rise in the air while she moved, and then he dipped her to the ground. When he pulled her back, Weston was giggling loudly with a huge smile on her face, and Calloway couldn’t help it—he laughed, too.
The speedy music ended and a slow ballade came on the speakers.
“Darn,” Calloway said. “I was just finding my groove.”
Weston wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his face close to hers. “Slow dancing is fun, too.”
Calloway wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her near his chest. They were closer than they were at formal, a lot closer, but Calloway didn’t mind the proximity. He wondered if Weston was acting this way to put on a show for Beatrice or she was doing this because she wanted to. But Calloway would never know—he would never ask.
She pressed her forehead against his and their lips were almost touching. Calloway stared into her eyes and she met his gaze, unblinking. Calloway felt his heart hammer in his chest, ready to shatter from emotion. The music was mute in Calloway’s ears and he was blind to the people standing around him, his gaze focused on the beautiful woman before him. This closeness should feel awkward, only it didn’t. Calloway let himself soak the moment with every fiber of his being. He glanced at her lips and wished—prayed—that she would kiss him. Calloway wasn’t stupid—he would never make such a bold move, knowing it could be devastating to their already unsteady relationship. He enjoyed kissing Beatrice and he wondered how it would feel with Weston—probably a million times better.
His hands slid across the back of her dress until he felt her bare skin. He let his palms linger there for a long while, touching the warm flesh of her body. Her fingers slid through the back of his hair and the touch felt soothing and relaxing. Calloway felt more confused than he ever had—even with Beatrice—by the way Weston was behaving. She must feel the same way—she had to.
Calloway opened his to mouth to speak, finding courage in the feel of her touch on his body and the loving gaze in her eyes. He was about to tell her every thought he had about her when he spotted Beatrice in the crowd—kissing Hawk.
Calloway stopped swaying to the music overhead and he released his grip on Weston’s back. When Weston recognized the distress on his face, she turned around and looked across the room, seeing Beatrice kiss Hawk passionately right in the middle of the floor.
It felt like a strong punch to the gut, painful and nauseating at the same time. The beautiful moment he had with Weston was ruined by the disturbing sight. Everything became louder and more prominent. He was aware of the other students staring at him, quietly laughing at him because of the distressed look on his face.
“Excuse me,” Calloway whispered. He walked away from Weston, leaving her standing alone, and advanced outside, getting away from the sight of Beatrice with Hawk. Even when he held Weston in his arms, he couldn’t escape the agony he felt over the loss of Beatrice—the unforgivable betrayal.
Night had descended and it was growing cold despite the presence of spring. Calloway inhaled the air through his lungs and tried to calm his chaotic emotions, which swirled inside of him like a raging hurricane. He wanted to punch something. He straightened his back and focused his thoughts on a happier memory, when Weston kissed him on the cheek a few months ago. Whenever he felt depressed he always relived that moment, treasuring the feeling it gave him. Calloway started to feel the emotions flood his body once again and the despair started to dwindle, fading away from his heart.
When he looked up from the ground, his heart halted in his chest. A Hara-Kir was standing in the shadow of a neighboring building, staring at him intently. Calloway froze, not even breathing, and he looked at the creature across the way. He reached for his knife in his pocket but his hand was steadied by the actions of the Hara-Kir.
It held up his hand then made a variety of hand signals, communicating with Calloway in an unspeakable way, like sign language. Calloway stared at it for a moment, unsure what was happening. When Calloway didn’t move, the Hara-Kir repeated the same gesture, staring directly at Calloway.
The other door a few feet away flew open, amplifying the sound of the music inside. Calloway stepped back and blended into the shadow of the building, not wanting to be seen. The Hara-Kir stepped back into the shadows, hiding most of its form from view.
“Come on!” the male voice said. He was dragging a woman behind him and Calloway recognized her voice.
“I don’t want to go, Hawk,” Beatrice said. “I spent so much time picking out my dress and getting ready. They didn’t even announce the prom king and queen.”
“Shut up,” Hawk snapped. “You aren’t going to win anyway. Not after you dated that trash bag.”
“Can we just stay a little longer?” she begged.
Hawk grabbed her by the arm. “No,” he yelled. “My brother said we could use his apartment. Forget this stupid dance.”
“Please,” she begged.
Hawk yanked her by the arm. “Shut up,” he snapped.
Beatrice tried to wrestle from his arm. “Let me go!” she cried. “Stop it!”
Hawk dragged her further away from the door and to his jeep in the parking lot. Calloway stepped closer to get a better look. Hawk was practically dragging her across the concrete, smearing dirt across the pink material of her dress. Calloway looked back at the Hara-Kir and saw it stare at him for a moment. Then it stepped back into the shadows.
Calloway didn’t understand what the gesture meant but he knew he had to find out. He was about to chase it when he looked back at Beatrice, who was still trying to yank free of Hawk’s savage hold. Her hair had fallen loose from her clip and she was starting to cry. Calloway forced her to the back of his mind. She was in this situation because she wanted to be—it was her fault. Calloway knew she wasn’t his problem anymore, and after everything she had done to him, he knew he shouldn’t care—she deserved this.
But Calloway couldn’t let this happen to her. Even after everything she did to him, she didn’t deserve to be treated like that, even if it was her own fault. He abandoned the Hara-Kir, knowing he shouldn’t, and sprinted across the way to the parking lot, where Hawk was practically shoving her into the front seat.
“LET HER GO!” Calloway grabbed Hawk and threw him to the ground, letting Beatrice move away from the car. The anger coursed through his body as he saw Hawk hit the concrete. He wanted to jump on him again, giving him a bloody nose that covered his entire face with the life sustaining liquid, but he controlled his ferocity. “KNOCK IT OFF!”
Hawk climbed back to his feet then shoved Calloway into the door of his jeep, punching him as he held him against the car.
“Stop it!” Beatrice cried.
Calloway kneed Hawk in the stomach then pushed him back. “STOP THIS NOW!”
Hawk glared at him. “You’re the one that assaulted me, Poverty Boy #2! Go back and find some trash to eat.”
“I’m done with this,” Calloway said. “Leave Beatrice alone,” he commanded.
Hawk laughed. “She’s the one that
comes crawling to me,” he said. “I can’t keep her away.”
“Well, it looked like she was crawling away from you,” Calloway snapped. “Leave her alone! I mean it.”
Hawk pushed him savagely. “Or what?” he challenged. “What are you going to do? Mug me so your family will have groceries for the week?”
“KNOCK IT OFF!” Calloway yelled. “I DON’T CARE THAT I’M POOR! I DON’T CARE!”
Hawk laughed. “It sounds like you do.” He pushed him again. “I hope your family didn’t have to take out a second mortgage to pay for that camera.”
Calloway felt his mind snap. He was tired of hearing the insults about his family, sick of Hawk harassing Beatrice, and he was tired of being pushed. His control on his body was fading quickly, replaced with a violent rage.
Suddenly, Hawk punched him in the face, spilling blood from his nose. Calloway reacted immediately, pushing Hawk to the ground as he started to punch him relentlessly. Hawk kneed him in the stomach then rolled on top of Calloway, punching him in the eye.
“Stop it!” Beatrice shrieked.
Calloway yelled when Hawk hit him in the eye again, and he rolled on top of him, punching him with all the force he could muster, putting his entire weight behind his fist.
“BREAK IT UP!”
Calloway jumped off Hawk when he heard a teacher approach, Mr. Henry, the world civilization instructor. He felt Hawk’s blood on his hands and felt his own drip from his nose. He knew how incriminating the scene appeared and the panic started to take hold. Calloway knew he shouldn’t have let his anger get to him, but he couldn’t help it—he was livid.
“What happened here?” Mr. Henry asked.
Hawk wiped his blood on the sleeve of his suit. “He assaulted me, sneaking up behind me while I tried to take my date home because she wasn’t feeling well. He just started attacking me!”
The students were filtering outside the building, watching the scene from the front doors. He heard Easton and Breccan talking just a few feet away then felt the familiar hand on his arm—it was Weston.
