Georgie, All Along (104)

“I think I could be free.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, that’s good. Do you think you could stop by my place?”

“Yeah.” I’m pretty breathless now, but I’m trying hard to keep it together. “I can swing that, I’m pretty sure.”

His mouth is more than a quirk now. “You can change before if you want, or not,” he says, and then he lifts the bag he’s holding, pulling from it a square, clear plastic container. “But either way, maybe you could wear this.”

I take it from him with shaking hands, unsure at first what it is I’m looking at—it’s all bold, bright colors inside there; it looks like—

“It’s a corsage!” blurts the hostess.

Levi smiles at her, and I’m pretty sure I can hear the crush she forms right in that second. Like a semitruck of tall, hot, bearded man just ran right into all the places her hormones come from.

I relate.

“I made it,” Levi says. “With your mom. They’re tissue paper.”

“Oh,” I whisper, hugely unable to seem casual anymore.

But Levi saves me from myself. He says, “I’ll see you in a bit,” and then he gives a short, curt nod to his father before turning and walking right back out the door.

And I’m left standing there with the corsage I’ll be wearing later.

To prom with Levi Fanning.

*

OF COURSE it’s not a real prom.

An hour later—Remy made me leave early, as long as I promised to tell them everything at my next shift—I’m outside Levi’s house, sitting in my Prius, my hands trembling with anticipation while I carefully take out the corsage he brought me. The band that goes around my wrist is made from a scrunchie, a dark purple velvet that contrasts with the bright marigolds and reds of the tissue paper flowers. It’s pretty much exactly the opposite of the pale-pink roses I imagined receiving from Evan Fanning way back when, and for that, I love it all the more.

It suits me all the more. The me I am right now, the me I’ve always been.

The me Levi has always seen.

I’m careful with it as I open my door and step out, hit with a new wave of nervousness about my attire—I’m hoping I read the situation right, read that look in Levi’s eyes right, and I fiddle nervously with the tie at my waist, shaking and smoothing out my garment as best I can. Then I hear the scrabble of Hank’s nails hitting the front porch, his happy bark, and the excited clink of his collar.

I’m crouching to greet him, arms open, when the yard illuminates, hundreds of tiny white twinkle lights strung across the porch, across the yard, all the way down and around the dock. Hank leaps and turns in front of me, celebrating them, and I calm him enough to press my cheek against his head, a steadying greeting that I need if I don’t want to turn into a sobbing mess before this prom even gets started.

Of course then I realize Hank’s wearing a bow tie.

I wipe my face of the tears that are already falling.

“Hey, Georgie,” comes Levi’s voice, and I stand from my crouch, taking him in, relieved that I did, in fact, read the situation right. The button-up is gone; he’s just in the T-shirt now, and he’s swapped the stiff-looking jeans for a familiar pair.

He looks perfect.

“I like your dress,” he says, that quirk of his mouth back, and I fiddle with the tie again, looking up at him through my wet eyelashes and trying to harness some flirty teasing.

“This old thing?” I say, twirling once in my soap opera robe, wrapped and cinched at my waist over a pair of old cutoffs and a tank top.

Levi’s favorite outfit of mine.

When I face him again, the quirk is gone—instead, he looks serious, solemn, full of the overwhelming emotion I was doing my best to hide against Hank’s big head.

“Thanks for coming,” he says softly.

“Thanks for inviting me.”

“You got here sooner than I expected. Dinner’s not ready yet.”

“That’s okay. I can go drive around for a while if you want. It might look suspicious, though. Obviously I don’t want to get pulled over in my robe.”

He smiles again. “No. But maybe you wouldn’t mind a dance before dinner?”

“I wouldn’t mind at all,” I say, as if I’m not bursting with happiness and relief and excitement.

He takes my hand and guides me across the yard, down to the lit-up dock, and even though he doesn’t quite seem ready to talk yet, I can’t help myself.

“This looks so pretty, Levi.”

He nods as we step onto the first plank. “I had some help. Your mom, obviously, with the flowers,” he says, touching lightly at my corsage. “And your dad, he’s the one who told me a tuxedo would be a bad idea.”

I can’t help but laugh. “You were going to wear a tuxedo?”

From his back pocket, he pulls out his phone, swipes and taps until the low, soft sound of a country ballad pipes through speakers I can’t see.

“That was when this idea was in the early stages,” he says, turning me to face him, and I step easily into him—one of his hands coming around my waist, the other that’s still joined with mine now lifting while he begins swaying to the music. I press close to him, breathing in his perfect, familiar smell. Soap and salt water. Levi.