The Best Laid Plans(84)
They walk over to us, and Hannah can’t meet my eyes, like she knows she’s done something wrong and she’s afraid I’m going to fault her for it.
“Collins,” Charlie says, holding out a fist like he expects me to bump it. I don’t. He moves his fist toward Dean instead. “Hey, man. I’m Charlie.”
Dean smirks. “The famous Charlie.” They bump fists and then launch into a discussion of Being Old and In College.
The parents corral us into a big group so they can take a picture, and then it’s time to go. We pile into our limo—all the parents waving and crying and telling us to be safe, and I know I’m supposed to be having fun, but everything feels so twisted.
The second the doors close, Ava pulls out a full bottle of champagne from her bag like she’s Mary Poppins.
“Who wants some bubbly?” She hands the bottle to Ryder to open, shrieking when the cork pops. Everyone collectively relaxes, way too willing to drink away a little of the awkwardness.
The limo drives us around the edge of the lake and I look out the window at the water. It’s almost sunset now, and the light is catching on the surface in that golden way that reminds me of summer camp, of the feeling at the end of August when you know everything is ending.
Dean’s hand is draped casually over my leg like it belongs there. He and Ryder are laughing about something, passing the flask back and forth between them, but I’m not listening. All I can think about is how his hand feels on my skin, how the first time he ever laid his hand there it had electrified me, but now I feel nothing. He leans in and kisses the sensitive skin around my ear, and his breath smells like whiskey, making me shiver. I can’t help but look a few seats to my left to where Andrew is sitting with Danielle, their faces practically connected.
Hannah and Charlie are across the bench from me and when Ava hands Hannah the bottle of champagne, Charlie reaches up to run his hand over Hannah’s thick braid, pulling lightly like he never lost the right to touch her. That one little movement makes me so mad. Hannah takes a sip of the champagne and then she hands it to me. Our eyes meet and I tilt my head to the side, trying to tell her with my expression everything that’s so messed up about this situation. How could she have been so right about Andrew but so wrong about this?
Andrew laughs about something and then kisses the inside of Danielle’s wrist. It’s like a ripple effect around the car. Cecilia wraps her arms around Chase’s bicep and snuggles her nose into the collar of his shirt, and I feel myself leaning closer to Dean, letting his hand crawl higher up my knee. I hate that I’m reacting the same way as Cecilia—that we’re both just two girls Andrew’s cast aside.
“I’m excited for tonight,” I whisper into Dean’s ear, because I’m trying to convince myself I am. If Andrew can have meaningless hookups, so can I. I don’t have to like Dean to sleep with him. I can sleep with him because he’s hot, and it’s prom, and everything is perfect. Why would I waste a moment like this one?
“Me too.” His eyes light up like he wasn’t sure until right this second that I’d follow through.
We pull up to the Walcott and everyone piles out. The whole place is strung with twinkle lights crisscrossing over the ceiling like the sky is enchanted. The walls inside the ballroom are hung with giant cardboard waves painted in blue glitter, and there’s a bubble machine at the entrance. “It’s so whimsical!” Ava squeals when she sees it, and then she’s twirling and we all follow her in.
There’s a buffet table, large platters of chicken and salad and risotto no one is touching, and a bowl of punch that—if teen movies are to be believed—I should stay far away from. Sophie Piznarski is at a table scattered with cookies and brownies, and she’s holding a basket of muffins, offering it to everyone who walks by. It’s like student council forgot we’d all be too nervous to eat. But maybe that’s just me. Andrew will probably eat three whole chickens and still be hungry.
Sophie holds the basket out to us. “Don’t forget to vote for King and Queen!”
“Can you actually vote in a monarchy?” I ask, and Hannah laughs and then her face hardens again like she’s not sure if she’s allowed to think I’m funny right now.
Danielle makes us stop at the table, her laser-beam eyes making it clear who we’re supposed to vote for. I write down Hannah’s name, a silent apology that she can’t see. The guys keep walking and sit down at one of the tables on the edge of the dance floor. And it is so weird to see Andrew and Dean together.
“Did you make these?” Danielle asks, picking up a cookie.
“No, they’re from Green Mountain,” Sophie answers, and Danielle drops the cookie back into the basket. Sophie frowns. “You don’t have to eat one.”
I reach into the basket and pull out a blueberry muffin to be polite, but I know I’m too anxious to eat it.
“I’m saving up for Taco Bell later.” Ava wobbles on her heels. “If I drink any more coca-kale-a, I think I might puke.”
“She only needs to fit into her dress long enough for Ryder to take it off her,” Danielle says.
Sophie sets down the muffin basket. “Wait, are you guys are going to . . . you know?”
“Gross,” Ava says.
Danielle raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’d say odds are in his favor.”