Inevitable and Only(42)
“That’s called cleavage, my friend,” said Raven. “Some of us have only heard rumors of this legendary blessing.”
“Affliction, you mean,” I muttered.
“Oh, please. Farhan won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”
I’d just zipped Raven into her teal mermaid dress when Dad knocked, then poked his head in. “Girls? Are we ready to—oh. Oh, my.” He adjusted his glasses.
“Dad, this is not the moment to weep,” I said.
“I’m not. I’m not. I just—something in my eye.” He blinked rapidly and beamed at us.
Raven, Elizabeth, and I barefooted it down the stairs, then strapped on our shoes. It felt strange to be getting ready for my first dance in a group of three. It had always been just me and Raven, doing our first everythings together. Our first time going to a concert by ourselves. Our first sleep-away summer camp—two weeks out on the Eastern Shore, learning to rock climb and sea-kayak. Our first airplane ride, even. Ruby and Renata had invited me to come along with the Sisterhood for a weeklong vacation to Kennebunkport, Maine, two summers ago. They even rented a car and drove us up to Acadia National Park for a day trip to pay our respects to my namesake.
“Pictures,” I reminded everyone. “Ruby will kill me if I don’t get pictures of this dress for her.” So Raven pulled out her phone and Dad lined us up in front of the piano and took photos. Then he made us wait while he got out his digital camera, which he barely ever used, and took more photos.
“Dad, we can take pictures once we get to the restaurant. And they’re going to have a photographer at the dance, too.” My stomach was rumbling, and not with hunger. This wasn’t just my first dance—it was my first date, too. And Farhan, my one true love, was about to see me in the most beautiful dress I’d ever worn.
I felt like throwing up.
As it turned out, though, dinner was less terrifying than I’d thought it would be. Max and Raven were so relaxed around each other, it made sitting across from Farhan seem almost normal. The boys were all wearing suits, but they acted just like their usual selves. Boys. They made everything look simple.
I barely ate anything, I was so worried about spilling food on my dress in front of Farhan. I don’t remember what we talked about—mostly the boys talked, while our side of the table gazed lovingly (Raven) or stared down at our plates (me and Elizabeth). Afterward, we all piled into Sam’s SUV. Mom and Dad had agreed, reluctantly, to let us ride to the dance with him, as long as Mom brought us home at the end of the night. Elizabeth didn’t argue—in fact, she seemed relieved. I couldn’t figure it out. Half the girls in the high school would’ve traded places with her to be Sam’s date, and yet she seemed eager to spend as little time as possible with him.
When we arrived at the dance, we paused and smiled for the photographer on the steps leading up to the gym, and then Farhan took my arm and steered me inside. A disco ball spun slowly on the ceiling, throwing bits of light like confetti all around the room. Long tables full of desserts and drinks lined the back wall, and chairs were clustered around small round tables at the other end of the room.
The six of us stood in an awkward circle and bobbed our heads for a few songs. Then DJ Derry shifted into something slower, and Max and Raven split off to dance by themselves.
Elizabeth said she was going to the bathroom, so Sam wandered over to the dessert table. Which left me and Farhan by ourselves.
We escaped to one of the small tables, where I saw Micayla and Troy sitting with Heron and her date, a senior named Aimee. They had covered the table with an assortment of petits fours, fruit tarts, and cupcakes, and were ranking all the desserts on a complicated chart scribbled on the paper tablecloth.
That took up about twenty minutes or so. Then a guy I didn’t know came over and asked Micayla to dance, and Tori Lopez asked Troy to dance. Another slow song came on, and Heron and Aimee got up, too. Suddenly I was terrified that someone else was going to come ask Farhan for a dance if I didn’t do it.
“Well, guess we should dance,” I managed. Ten points, Cadie, for making it sound like a chore to dance with your one true love.
He nodded and we got up, moved toward the dance floor. He put one hand on my waist. I let the fingertips of my left hand brush his shoulder. He took my right hand with his left. We swayed back and forth. I was sure he could see my heart pounding, exposed as my chest was. Oh god. Was he looking at my chest? I sneaked a peek at his eyes, but he seemed to be looking over my shoulder. Probably making sure we weren’t going to crash into another couple. Good. Except no one was really moving very much. It seemed that slow dancing was more like slow standing.
“Cadie,” he said, bringing his face closer to mine. Any breath remaining in my body went whoosh, vacuumed out as if I’d just taken a volleyball to the sternum. The music faded out as my ears started ringing, a telltale sign that my face was turning the color of a Hawaiian sunset.
I tried looking into his eyes again. His dark hair fell low over his eyebrows, those thick eyelashes batting nervously. Could he possibly be as nervous as I was?
His face was so close.
I closed my eyes and tried to remember all of Raven’s advice. Don’t rush it, but don’t hang on if he starts to pull away, either. Let your lips relax, let your jaw relax. If all else fails, pay attention to what he’s doing and just copy him.