Top Ten Uses for an Unworn Prom Dress (13 page)

F
rozen at the sink, Mom seemed to smile to herself. “I wouldn't go so far as to say hereditary. Safer to say lots of people attach emotions and memories to their possessions. But it is fitting that you bought your dress with money from Grandma, don't you think? She would have loved that dress as much as she loved mine.”

I nodded, giving that warm thought a moment to penetrate. Then, getting back to Mom's dress, I asked what had happened to it.

“Unfortunately, the dress was ruined from the years
of heat up in the attic. The color had streaked and faded, the crinkly stuff underneath—”

“The crinoline,” I volunteered.

“Crinoline. It had cracked. The whole thing was a mess.”

A sudden flash of grief blew across her face. Making me think that she, too, was drawing the connection between the fate of her dress and the fate of her marriage.

Ugh.

Had I been a friend, I probably would have given her a hug. But I was the
product
of her regrettable marriage, for better or for worse. And this was
waaay
too much
yuck
for me to handle head-on.

“So you threw your dress out?” I asked, attempting to keep my head erect and the conversation light.

She nodded. “Nothing else I could do. But somewhere, I'm sure, there's a picture of me in it. I'll dig it up for you one of these days.”

My words spilled out before I could catch them. “Only if you want to. I mean, if you think it wouldn't upset you.”

Her lips curved, but there was no joy inside her smile. “It'll be good for me. That was then, and this is now. It's time I truly moved on.”

Yeah. It probably was. But she wasn't going to hear that from me.

After a long moment, Mom gave her head a little shake. “But don't worry about yours. You've got that
industrial-strength dress bag to protect it from the elements. Plus, we'll keep it out of the attic. Yours will live on forever.”

I nodded. But saving The Dress forever didn't seem so important as simply having it right now. …

“But if you think you've got an obsession with your prom dress, Nicolette, just wait until you've got a wedding dress in your closet!”

We laughed and got busy making dinner— together.

•

Later, my belly filled, my good spirits gave way to worries again. I wondered where Alison had been all afternoon. Had she been out cultivating a new best friend?

I tried to sleep, but the darkness only made my thoughts bolder and, well, darker. I needed to talk to somebody, and for the first time since I was twelve, my best friend was out of the question.

Eventually, I bolted up, remembering I had Jared's cell phone number. A way to contact him exclusively— without getting Alison or waking up the whole house.

I raced through the darkness, careful to avoid the furniture, grabbed the phone, and punched in his number.

“ ‘Sup?” Jared's recorded voice answered. “Leave me a message.”
Beep
!

So I did. “Hey, Jared, it's Nic,” I said, trying to sound normal, like I called his cell at eleven o'clock every
night. “Nothing important, just, uh, checking in.” I ended idiotically that I'd see him on Monday at school.

And crawled back to bed. And worried that he hadn't picked up because he'd seen it was me who was calling.

I tried to smother my mile-a-minute brain with my pillow, but I felt like any chance of falling asleep was now lost for the night.

When a
ping, ping, ping
sounded against my win-dowpane thirty minutes later, I told myself it was either rain (in October? In Thurman Oaks?) or my imagination.

A thud that nearly shattered the glass, however, made my heart catapult to my throat. I threw back the covers and crept to the window. Pulling back the shade, I crouched down on one knee and cupped my hand to the glass.

Outside, moonlight shone down on a tall, dark figure a few feet from my window. Not a stranger or a potential strangler. But a guy offering a sweet smile.

Omigod, what was Jared doing here?

Shock tangled with some very mushy girl feelings that I'd deny to my last breath, and I flipped the lock and cranked the window ajar. “Jared?”

“I got your message,” he called out softly. “Didn't want to wake your mom by calling.”

“It wasn't important,” I shout-whispered.

“Come outside.”

I knew I should tell him—
Alison's brother
—to go home. That it was late. And my relationship with his
sister was complicated enough. But since when did I let my good sense guide my actions?

“Be right there!”

Dressed in PJ pants and a tank top, I crept down the hallway, flipped on the porch light, and cruised out the front door. Goose bumps rose on my bare arms, and my feet did a squish-squash thing in the dewy grass. I couldn't remember feeling happier.

He stood on the lawn, moonlight dancing off his dark hair. Looking big and strong and impossibly handsome. I moved closer and closer until his voice jarred me from my steamroller advance.

“Hey,” he said in a low murmur. “What's up?”

I paused, maybe a foot away, and tried to collect myself. After all,
I'd
called
him
.

“This sounds sort of dumb now, but I couldn't sleep and really just wanted a friend.”

He just stood there, giving off this amazing mix of superhot masculinity and protective tenderness. I almost
wanted
to unload on him, just to have his dark eyes, his focus, all over me.

But the thing was, suddenly I didn't feel like talking. Like overanalyzing. Like being friends.

I knew what I wanted was …
this
. Jared and me, alone in the darkness. The only two people in the world. Making everything and everyone else go away …

I inched closer.

As if in answer to my prayers—or maybe because we really
were
in sync—his hands moved to my bare
upper arms (
Oh god, kiss me! Kiss me!
), and his face angled toward mine.

My heart went into overdrive.

(Would he hear it?)

(Would he feel it?)

His mouth then covered mine.

Yes!

Soft lips, soft kiss.

I tippy-toed up closer to him, deepening the kiss, giving him my all. And taking from him his very best.

Then after a couple of minutes he broke the kiss, slung an arm across my shoulder, and led me toward his mom's SUV. Where he pressed his backside against his hood, and pulled me close.

Warmth spread through me. From the engine. From him.

“Holding you feels so good,” he said, his voice rumbling through me.

Tucking my face into his neck, I made a
mmm
noise. Part agreement, part
yum!

“You may be small, Nic, but every
inch
of you is sexy. I've been hung up on you as long as I can remember.”

I pulled back to stare into his eyes. Dark, shimmery “You're kidding.”

“Hardly. But it wasn't until I saw you with that guy on the beach that I knew it. I've never been so jealous in my entire life. Made me realize why I'd been in such a bad mood all those hours I drove you around to buy a dress to wear with …
him
.”

I laughed. I mean, it wasn't funny, but it made me so darned
happy
to hear this. “I'm sorry. Especially because I didn't know at the time you and Rascal hated each other.”

“We hated each other all right. Because of you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. I mean, his bragging always bugged me. But didn't make me insane until he started talking about you.”

I studied the planes of his face in what little light emanated from the porch lamp. “So the threats? The punches? The broken windows?”

“You. You. You.”

A smile spread across my face. I was the kind of girl that guys got all worked up over!

But my elation was short-lived when my ever-active mind took hold. Jared wasn't doing what Rascal had tried to do, was he? Win me as some sort of twisted grand prize?

I squinched my eyes. “I guess
this
makes you the official winner, huh?”

“That battle's already over,” he said, and frowned. “It's just me chasing you now. And I'm more determined than ever. I want to go out with you, Nic, to be your boyfriend.”

Be still, my heart!

After a breath and a hell-yeah smile on my part, his mouth found mine again.

And I wondered if love could be this simple. A series of perfect moments that go on and on …

“And I want you to go with me to the homecoming dance,” he said when our faces pulled apart.

I pressed my palm against his and folded my fingers with his. I wanted that more than anything, too. But first, I had to be sure of something.

“Nothing to do with my dress, right? With feeling sorry for me because I haven't gotten to wear it? With feeling sorry for me, period?”

“Nothing. For all I care, you can wear the same bikini you're going to wash my car in.”

I swatted him. “When are you going to forget about me washing your car?”

“Never.”

He grinned, and I squeezed his hand.

“You know what, Jared McCreary? My dress and I would
love
to go to the homecoming dance with you.”

My mom appeared in the doorway a few minutes later. “Nicolette?” she called in a harsh whisper. “What in the
world are
you doing out there?”

Still pressed against Jared, I kept my tone down, too. “Jared and I are just talking, Mom!”

“Can't you talk tomorrow? In the
daylight?
”

“Be right there!”

He released his hold on my waist and inched a respectable distance away. “Call me when you wake up.”

My thoughts spun. In all the heady excitement, I'd completely and totally forgotten the Alison angle. It had to be handled delicately, not just a “So guess what? I'm with your brother now.”

I frowned. “Um, maybe you better call me. When Alison's not around.”

His lips pressed into a hard line. “Yeah, we'll work on that. I took care of Mitch and Harrison and those guys, didn't I?”

I nodded. I hadn't gotten a call or a long look from one of them in days.

“Okay,” I answered. I guessed if I was going to trust the guy, now would be as good a time as any.

We shared quick good-nights, and I ran on tippy-toes across the wet grass, carrying enough feelings/ thoughts/worries to rival my body weight. Still, when I met Mom in the doorway, I threw myself into her surprised arms.

“I'm going to the homecoming dance with Jared!”

She quietly closed the door. “That's wonderful, honey. But I didn't realize you even liked him.”

Where had Mom been?

With no interest in attempting sleep, I plopped on the couch and spilled. I told her everything—about Jared, his windshield, Kylie, and my talk with Coach Luther.

“Nicolette, I never thought I'd say this, but you're getting more like your father every day.”

I drew in a gasp. “Mom …”

“No, but in a good way. You both go headfirst into things, not always knowing what you're doing, but determined. And one way or another, you land on your feet. I could learn from the two of you.”

“Mom,” I said, getting off the couch. “Come on, you're perfect just the way you are.”

She leaned over and kissed my forehead. “I'm a work-in-progress. But you? I wouldn't be surprised if you make all your dreams come true. When you set your mind to something, you make it happen.” She tousled my hair. “In any case, it sounds like you've found the perfect use for your prom dress.”

I let out a blissful sigh. “I have, haven't I?”

Wear it to the homecoming dance, with the RIGHT date—the guy you didn't even realize you bought it for
.

T
wo things were abundantly clear to me the next morning:

1. I was deliriously happy over Jared;
   

2. I was seriously worried over Alison.
   

So, doing a one-eighty spin on what I'd told Jared, I picked up the phone and called the McCreary house.

He answered, and to my shock and relief, still sounded happy. After trading silly, gushy words that I would die before repeating, he told me Alison was in her room.

“Good. Tell her I'm coming over.” I bit my lip. “No—don't. Just keep her there, okay?”

My mom drove me over, and suddenly there I was—pressing the intercom box at the end of the Mc-Crearys' gated drive. My knees practically knocking.

Alison answered.

“Hey,” I managed, “it's Nic.”

“Nic?” But she seemed more surprised than upset.

After an endless pause (longer than the run to the car in the pouring rain after you blow-dried your hair, but shorter than, say, making hot fudge on the stove), the buzzer blasted at me and the electronic gate rolled back.

She met me at the door. Wearing boxers, a T-shirt, and a half smile. “You okay?” Concern glowed in her eyes.

A good sign. Very good. If she'd wanted me to rot in hell, she wouldn't be standing here, looking all … well, concerned.

“Yeah. I—I just wanted to come by and see you.”

We moved into their family room and plopped down on the couches running along one wall.

I started. “Some of the things we've been saying lately—and not saying—well, things have gotten too weird between us.” I stopped and sort of held my breath, praying she'd agree, that she'd make this easy. Well, easier.

“Yeah,” she said, to my profound relief. She
shrugged; then a smile touched her mouth. “I'm glad you're here. I don't want things to be weird, either.”

She went on to tell me how she'd spent yesterday afternoon alone at the library. “Can you believe my English teacher demands actual
book references
on the term paper? Seriously!”

I laughed with her, probably too hard. I loved that she had been studying, that she hadn't been doing something fun without me.

“One good thing, though,” she went on. “Chas Zachary was sitting at another cubicle. You know, that hottie from my English class? Well, I kept sneaking looks his way, and I swear, half the time he was looking back!”

We giggled and speculated about his interest. I couldn't help thinking how wonderful it would be for her (okay, and for me) if she hooked up with him. But I also knew that life wasn't always that simple.

“And you know,” she said, “Chas is on the soccer team with Mitch. We could double-date. Don't suppose he ever called you?”

Mitch. Ugh. “Yeah, a couple times.”

“And you didn't tell me?”

“Nothing much to say.” I slipped my ring over my knuckle and back. “I'm sure you heard those friends with benefits rumors going around about Jared and me? Mitch was trying to cash in.”

She frowned. “Okay, he's toast. Forget I brought him up.” She pressed her lips together. “And speaking
of forgetting, could you forget the hard time I've been giving you about Rascal lately? I know he's history and I probably shouldn't have told you all that stuff. At least not the way I did. I'm sorry.”

I could forgive her—because I was pretty sure her anger was fixated on Rascal so she didn't have to think about Jared and me. Which really had been happening. Whether or not I had wanted to admit it. So I managed a nod.

“Look,” she said, and jumped up. “I need to take a shower. Come on back to my room and hang out. Then we'll go over to the mall, okay? My parents are out, but we'll get Jared to drive.”

Jared. Oh, yeah.
Him
.

At the mention of her incredible brother, I bit down on my lip, then told her (somewhat vaguely) that there was some stuff we should probably talk about.

“Sure,” she said, and veered into her room. “We have all day.”

I hoped we did. After I dropped my bomb.

Soon I was cross-legged on her floor, flipping through a
Teen People
like I'd done a gazillion times before. Water thundered out of the shower pipes in Alison's private bath, making a whooshing sound that was almost soothing to the ear, but absolutely no help in readying me for the Talk.

I told myself that a selling point was that Jared
was a much better boyfriend for me than Rascal. I could just say:
See how much my taste has improved
? But I didn't really see that flying.

Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air. I glanced toward the door.

Slouched in the doorway, Jared was backlit by windowed sunshine. “Hey.”

My heart went dancing. “Hey yourself.”

Without even thinking, I jumped up. He met me a couple of steps in and lowered his head. But instead of kissing me, he grinned and pressed his nose against mine.

I smiled back, a twinge of pain the only reminder of my volleyball mishap. It became an unspoken contest. Whose smile was biggest. Silliest. Longest. Without laughing.

I tried concentrating on the sound of the falling water, on the beating of my own heart, on not cracking up. I would
win
.

Maybe if I reached out and tickled him. Maybe—

The bathroom door opened.

“Nic, did I leave my—”

Alison!

I jumped away from Jared like I'd been splattered with hot oil, and turned toward my best friend, my eyes shock-wide.

Dressed in a terry-cloth robe, her red hair still dry, Alison stared at us, her mouth curled cruelly. “Oh, isn't
this
just great? In my own
room
, no less! And yeah, Nic,
sure
you came to see me.”

“I did!” I said, leaping toward her. “Jared and me … well, that happened last night. Today was totally about seeing you, telling you, making sure you were okay with us going out.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Well, I'm
not
okay. I'm not. Uh-uh, this is just … too creepy.”