Leah on the Offbeat(26)

“Are you asking me to prom, Leah Burke?”

“Yes,” I say flatly. “We’re literally standing five feet away from your boyfriend, and I’m asking you to prom.”

She raises her eyebrows, like she can’t decide if I’m kidding. So that’s a twelve out of ten on the awkward scale. Do I really have to clarify that I’m not asking Abby to prom?

“I’m not asking you to prom, Abby.”

“Oh well.”

My cheeks flush. For a minute, neither of us speaks.

“Okay, but seriously,” I say finally. “This road trip thing . . .”

Abby gasps. “Are you saying you want to road trip to Athens?”

I shrug. “I mean, if you’re still up for it.”

“AM I UP FOR IT?” she yells, flinging her arms around me. And I feel it in my stomach, like a tiny buzzing cell phone.





12


SO, PROM FEVER IS A thing.

Literally all Simon wants to do now is watch the promposal video, over and over. He even texted it to his mom. And Nick and Abby are back to their obnoxiously happy normal, holding hands in English class and discussing corsages over lunch. It’s like a looming apocalypse, but with formal wear.

And then there’s Garrett, who keeps watching me with this weird, twinkly expression. I catch Bram at his locker on Thursday and make him tell it to me straight. “Is Garrett going to prompose to me?”

“Um,” says Bram.

“Please tell me he’s not planning something public.”

God, I’ll die. I just can’t. It’s not like I have issues with Garrett. Honestly, I wouldn’t even mind going to prom with him. But public promposals are my actual worst nightmare. This stuff is awkward enough without the audience. “Seriously, I need to know.”

“Well . . .” Bram bites his lip.

“Got it.” I grimace. “So, like . . . when is this happening?”

“Lunch,” he says. “Um. Do you want me to . . .”

I pat him on the shoulder. “I’ll handle it.”

I mean, yeah. I’ll go to prom with Garrett. I don’t care. We’ll go as friends. As buds. As bros. It will be fun. We’ll take some god-awful staircase pictures, and hopefully I won’t stab him with a corsage pin. Accidentally, probably.

I find him camped out in the library. “Hey, can we talk?”

He peers up at me in surprise. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Privately.” He follows me over to the magazine racks, and I don’t even hesitate. “Okay, here’s the thing. I know what you’re planning.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

“Listen. I’ll go to prom with you, okay?”

His jaw drops.

I blush. “If you want. I mean. We don’t—”

“Yeah—Burke. Yeah, I want to,” he says slowly. “Let’s—but, uh, you’re kind of stealing my thunder here.”

“Yes.” I roll my eyes. “That’s kind of the point.”

“You don’t want my thunder?”

“Literally not even a little bit.”

“But.” He rubs his forehead, face breaking into a smile. “You’ll go to prom with me? For real?”

“Sure.”

“Dude.” He beams. Then he wraps me in a bear hug, and it’s actually sort of sweet. This kid. This blue-eyed boy who calls me by my last name and never shuts up. My prom date. That actually happened. I just asked a boy out. Or he asked me. I guess we asked each other.

Anyway, it’s done, and I did it, and I guess I’m going to prom. With a date. I’m an actual high school cliché. A part of me feels like I should announce this. In fact, people do announce this shit on the creeksecrets Tumblr. There’s even a list of prom couples, kept up to date in the notes section. I guess it’s to save people from those excruciating Harry-asking-Cho-to-the-Yule-Ball situations. Though, let’s be real: if Katie Leung sweetly rejecting Daniel Radcliffe in a Scottish accent wasn’t your sexual awakening, I don’t even want to know you.

I just wish I knew how to feel about Garrett. This shouldn’t be so complicated. It has to be easier for people with penises. Does this person get you hard? Yes? Done. I used to think boners literally pointed in the direction of the person you’re attracted to, like a compass. That would be helpful. Mortifying as fuck, but at least it would clarify things.

I’m home before Mom—there’s a note on the fridge that says to call her at work when I get there. And out of nowhere, I remember a thing Abby told me right after she moved here. Her dad was still in DC at the time, and I guess he thought Shady Creek was some drug-fueled bacchanalia fuckland, because he didn’t want Abby to go anywhere after dark. He used to call her on the house phone to make sure she was really there. Foolproof dad-maneuver, except for the part where Abby forwarded all her landline calls to her cell. Not that I’m randomly thinking of Abby Suso again.

I sink onto the couch and dial Mom’s office number. She picks up on the first ring.

“How come you didn’t tell me there was a promposal video?”

I grin. “Who told you?”

“Alice Spier shared it from Simon’s Facebook.”