Ditched (11 page)

Actual y,
a lot
of jealousy. I mean, why would he let me kiss 103

another guy without putting up a fight? He didn’t let Eva get away with it.

But of course, he’d been in love with her.

Maybe he didn’t feel a need to put up a fight for me.

But then Ian pushed his hair away from his face, and that’s when I could see his cheeks were flushed. “But maybe you could . . . you know . . . stay away from him?”

“Jealous, are we?”

He clenched his jaw. “Very.”

Awesome. I was a jealous lunatic . . . and I wasn’t alone.

Touchdown!

I scooched over as far as my seat belt would al ow and grabbed his one free hand. “I’l dance to a Journey song with you tonight.
Our
Journey song.” His face opened instantly like a jack-in-the-box. “No protest?”

“I may even enjoy myself.”

Understatement.

Our song was “Open Arms.” It had become our song because I total y hated it. The cheese factor was huge—

dumb lyrics, melodramatic, sweeping chorus. Which was why Ian loved blasting it on his car stereo and belting out the words while I covered my ears and hummed until the pain went away.

The day he asked me to prom, we had been sitting in his clunker Mercedes in the school parking lot. I was holding the letter he’d left in my locker:

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Go to prom with me? Please?

We could totally carpool.

Check the correct box:

LL Yes

He had only given me one choice. And attached to the note was a daisy—a very persuasive technique. As far as Getting Asked To The Prom moments go, it was looking to be an A plus. But it was then that we’d had that conversation about going just as
friends
. Not my most favorite part of the memory. Fortunately, after that uncomfortable moment, he final y looked over at me and said, “You look pretty today.” Swoon.

Guys don’t know the power we hold over them with the right tint of lip gloss. He didn’t mention which part of me looked pretty, but I was pretty sure the Cherry Lip Smackers was to thank. So I puckered and sang the words from “Open Arms” to him, a cappel a.

Maybe we were only going to prom as friends, but the smirk on his face while I sang told me we were going to have a great time.

Ian turned on his blinker and slowly steered the car into the parking lot of The Grand Riverside Hotel. “I’ll make sure the DJ plays our song.” He cut his eyes over to me.

“We’ll . . . we’ll take things slowly. Okay?” I could tel we were saying things we weren’t quite ready to articulate. But we were getting there.

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My stomach got al jumpy because he wanted to take things at my pace. Not his. Which was why I had agreed to go to prom with him in the first place—I knew it would turn out the way I’d planned. Perfect.

As the hotel came into view, my mouth dropped. “Wow” was the only descriptive word I could come up with. But I meant it. The hotel was massive and sparkled like a majestic mountain, lit with purple spotlights—the prom color Al yson had picked.

Ian didn’t say anything. He just reached out and gently placed his hand on top of mine. It wasn’t a hand
hold
, but it was close. Close enough. We were touching.

Butterflies.

We entered the grand bal room and I gasped. Total y gasped, with my hand over my mouth and everything.

The room was stunning—saturated and dripping with purple, black and silver. We entered through silver archways and were amazed by the beautiful glowing lanterns, columns covered in silver sequins and lit from the inside, and a large population of purple bal oons that seemed to be growing and multiplying by the second. Can bal oons mate?

The room was gleaming. Brilliant. And totally romantic.

Above the dance floor was an enormous purple paper lantern—I couldn’t wait to stand under it and get my kiss from Ian—which was my newly concocted plan for The Moment of Lip Lock Bliss.

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He placed his hand on my back—it was so natural, like we’d been a couple for years. “I told you this would be amazing.” I almost squealed, but took in quick, deep breaths to keep myself calm.
Be cool. Be cool.
“I may be warming up to this idea of prom.” And as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Al yson had done an amazing job.

“It’s a lot better than supervising the front seat of my car, huh?”

I shot him a wink. “There’s some promise here.”

“Dude, what the—” The Mikes had wandered up and were just as awed by the decorations.

Mike surveyed the entire room. “Dude. It looks like a purple volcano erupted in here. The place is oozing . . .

sparkly . . . molten . . . purple . . . lava. . . .” Ian leaned over to him. “You may have cleaned out your bong a little
too
wel .”

We picked up our place cards to find out which table we were assigned to for dinner—table five. Since that was Ian’s track uniform number, I assumed this was a good sign.

A meant-to-be sort of thing. Then again I could’ve been reaching, but I decided instead to stick with my “good sign” theory.

Before we sat down, Ian and I wandered around, checking out al the decorations and seeing who was there. I’l admit, I kept my eye out for Al yson and Eva—I did
not
plan on crossing paths with those two for the rest of the night.

Hailey was across the room leaning on the wal next to 107

the restroom, smacking her gum. A sure sign she was already over this scene.

“Go talk to her.” Ian motioned to Hailey. “I’l get us something to drink.”

He gently shoved me on my way, and I approached her hesitantly—she had a vacant stare again. “Stil mad?” She popped a bubble. “Not at
you
, anyway.” I leaned against the wal next to her, pleased with our vantage point—we could see everyone from this spot. “Did he admit to liking Al yson?”

“Yeah. On our way here in the car. The car
I
had to drive cuz that stupid ass did
eight
Jel -O shots! I knew he was drunk, but Jesus!”

“Eight? Is he okay?”

“He’s definitely not himself, that’s for sure. And he’s a crappy kisser.”

“Wait. You
kissed
him?”

“He was al apologetic and sad, and he made a move so I let him.” She gave a halfhearted shrug. “I had to. Otherwise I’d never know.”

I nodded, total y getting what she meant.

“At least now I have my answer.”

My eyes turned saucerlike. “And? Which category?”

“The worst. A combo.”

“No.”

Hailey winced. “Too much tongue
and
toothy.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

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“Yeah, he moved in and crashed into my front teeth like it was the freaking derby. I felt like I needed to be wearing a seat belt.”

I squirmed. “Oh, Hailey.”

“Yeah, and then he flipped his tongue around in there like it was an eel. And not one of those cute ones you see on snorkeling trips.”

“The worst.”

“I know. But at least I can move on. Maybe with that hottie?” She motioned to the other side of the room.

Brian Sontag.

“Dark hair. By the DJ.” She cal ed him like a pool game—

just like we always had. But I couldn’t help but hope she was getting sick of the game, too.

“Brian? But he’s with Al yson. Those two are pretty much our school mascot.”

“I’m not dumb.” She threw her shoulders back. “I think it’s time to give Al yson Moore a taste of her own poison.” My instinct was for us to leave it alone. Ian and I were here together now—wel , sort of, since he was actual y over at the drink table at the moment. But Al yson was leeching on to Brian final y, so I had nothing to worry about.

Except that the words Al yson had said in Dan’s kitchen flashed into my brain:
Oh, I
have
to talk to him.
And then how she had bombarded Ian by the pool with her long, boring stories, and how she had waved her arms al around for added drama.

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Gross.

I circled behind Hailey and gave her a nudge, like a mother horse. “Do it.”

A wicked smile grew across her face. “Hel yeah.” I pressed myself up against a wal , wishing for powers of invisibility while I watched Hailey work her magic. She sauntered right up to Brian and Al yson. Brian was nodding his head along to the music. Al yson was holding her compact mirror high in the air, trying to smooth a stray hair on her polished rock of a head.

It didn’t take long. Only four words out of Hailey’s mouth and she already had her hand on his arm. Dang, she was good.

Al yson snapped her compact shut and strutted off.

Yes! She was walking off in defeat! I suddenly felt like twirling a flag to commemorate the moment.

My eyes fol owed Al yson as she weaved in and out of people—her hips moving in a rhythmic motion, total y graceful—and made her way across the room to the back table. The
drink
table.

Wait. She wasn’t walking away in defeat—she was using this moment to go find Ian!

My chest heaved and my heart jumped out of my chest, cannonbal -style. Al I could think about was throwing something at her—something made of glass. Or spikes. Or a viral disease. They real y should invent Herpes In A Jar for moments like these.

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Al yson tapped Ian’s shoulder, and he turned around, a drink in each hand. Her back was to me, but I could tell Al yson was tel ing some stupid story again, because her hands were flying.

Oh my god, why wasn’t Hailey rushing over here to stop me from charging Al yson with a jar of disease?!

But I didn’t have to. Ian—eternal nice guy—just smiled, shrugged, nodded, then walked away. Not sure what that was al about, but it was the walking-away part that I cared about.

Breathe. Breathe. Get it together.

My muscles relaxed, and I could feel the sanity returning.

Hailey stepped up next to me. “I’m outta here.”

“Why? What about hottie Brian Sontag?” I was stil a little breathy.

“He doesn’t talk much. Cute, but not much there.” I was proud of her. A year ago she would’ve kissed him and never questioned his brain capacity. He’d just be a tal y.

But now she was looking for something more. I draped my arm around her. “Smart move.”

“Wanna ditch?” Her tone was hushed but very excitable.

“We could go watch old Buffy episodes in our pajamas and eat licorice.”

A Buffy marathon in pajamas was tempting. But Ian was approaching me with a cup of punch in his hand and an adorable smirk on his face. This night was shaping up to be one of the best of my life.

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She assessed the situation, glancing at him, then me.

“It’s okay.” She punched buttons on her phone. “I’m texting Mom to come get me.”

“Hailey, no. You can’t leave me!”

“This sucks. Mom wil return my dress and I can use the money to buy
real
clothes. Cute clothes. Party clothes. For Lurch’s tomorrow night. Wanna go together?” More temptation. When Hailey asked me to go to parties, I’d salivate like Sol when there’s a rib-eye steak nearby. Plus, Lurch’s parties were the best. His parents were partial owners of the San Diego Chargers. Everyone knew the Chargers’

schedule and therefore, when his parents would be gone.

Half the school would bombard his house in the country club—sometimes without Lurch even knowing it was going to happen. Usual y he didn’t even pay attention—he’d be downstairs in the basement on his computer playing World of Warcraft against some dude in Malaysia. Lurch was not the coolest cat in the vil age, but his parties rocked.

But then I remembered Ian asking me to go to Lurch’s party with him. So we could do something fun and not feel like there was any “weirdness.”

Whatever that meant. I stil didn’t know.

“I’m supposed to go with Ian.” I winced. “Maybe we could al go together?”

I felt a twinge. A shift. Discomfort. It was the rumblings of the dreaded third-wheel syndrome. That syndrome that creates the awkward moment when you realize your 112

friendship is spiraling, changing, and you can either push through it together, or push each other away.

Then I saw it in her eyes. A sparkle.

“Don’t worry about it. I’l go solo,” she said.

My face flushed with warmth. I knew we were going to have to deal with this at some point in our friendship . . . and it al happened right there in that tiny moment. She could have gotten upset. But she didn’t.

Hailey shrugged off the conversation—I knew she wouldn’t want to talk through this—it wasn’t her style. She casual y looked around the room and spotted Dan on the dance floor. He was doing the robot. “Aaaand prom is a horror movie,” she said just before she popped a bubble.

Ian slowed as he neared us, and said, “I’l go put these on the table.”

My eyes fol owed him as he walked away. “I hope you’re wrong, Hailey.”

He careful y set our drinks next to our forks, then moved them next to our knives. He liked to fol ow rules of etiquette, but he didn’t realize anyone else noticed. Which was the definition of adorable. “In your case,” Hailey said, “I
am
wrong.” She draped her arm over my shoulder. “I’m gone.

Now kiss the shit outta him tonight.”

“Eww.” I hugged her, knowing she might be gone before the salads were served. “I’l cal you later.”

“Hopeful y not!” She winked.

Ian was buttering his bread when I sat down next to him.

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The table was gorgeous, covered with a black tablecloth and a centerpiece that was a glass bowl ful of purple beads, lit from below. No wonder the tickets cost ninety-five bucks.

I surveyed our table to see who we would be eating dinner with. There were eight seats at our table: Me, Ian, the Stoner Mikes, and their dates. Since I was their lab partner, I guessed sitting with the Mikes would make for easy school-related conversation. So far so good.