Liars and Losers Like Us(27)

“Hi, you must be … Bree? Right?” She smiles as I nod. “I’m Beth.”

“Yes, that’s me, nice to meet you.” I shake her extended hand.

Sean’s mom invites me into the house that opens right into the living room area. The house is small, the furniture and decor are modern and take up a lot of the space. It smells clean, like lemons and fresh laundry.

“Sean! Bree’s here,” she yells toward the hallway behind her. “He’ll be ready in a minute—probably changing again, you know how boys are,” she jokes. I laugh, imagining Sean trying on T-shirt after T-shirt.

“Sooooo, you’re the girl that Sean’s going to Prom with?”

Sean steps into the room as soon as she says it.

I stumble over my words as heat radiates beneath my cheekbones. My cheeks are constantly flushing, which is why I never wear blush. “Um, no, uh … um …”

“Mom, this is Bree. She’s on Prom Court with me.”

“But she’s the one you’re bringing as your date right?”

Sean stares past her at the oven. Maybe he’s thinking he wants to crawl in there. I know I am.

Beth’s eyes widen and she bites her lip. “Yes, that’s what I meant, the Prom Court. Right. It’s going to be so fun. I’ll never forget my own Senior Prom.”

“Well, we better go so we’re not late.” Sean escorts me back through the door I came in.

“Nice meeting you!” I say as the door closes.

Neither of us speak as we walk out to my car. I can’t think of anything good to change the subject with. My stomach turns at the idea of him accepting Jane’s invite to Prom. No way. Maybe he has another date already. I try to fight it, but that stupid “let down” feeling stirs around in my gut as I adjust my seat belt once in the car. My anxiousness is tiny little soda bubbles, starting from the bottom of my stomach and rising up, up, up.

My mouth stretches into the tiniest most uncomfortable smile. “Your mom seems nice—she’s cute,” I say.

“Yeah, she’s cute all right.” Sean answers as I pull out of the driveway. “And yeah, she’s just, um, weird. So, where’re we going? Whattaya wanna do?”

I have no choice but to let him off the hook. I can tell he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want to talk about it. Maybe he really is going with someone else. There’s Jane and a ton of other options he could’ve had in the last week or so. My mom’s right. I should’ve been the one to ask.

“Well,” I say, “I heard there’s a really good movie out right now, it’s about some lady trying to find her car in a parking ramp. I bet it’s amazing. Wanna see it?”

“Oh, I’ve seen it,” Sean says. “But the only good thing about it was my hot date.” The heat returns to my cheeks but I keep my eyes on the road as if he won’t notice.

“Aaaanyway, enough about your hot dates, are you hungry? Are you thirsty? Are you in the mood for a party? The beach? A concert? A carnival? A pony ride—what?”

He responds, “A pony ride? That could be interesting.”

I smile and smack his knee.

“Just kidding,” he says. “Actually horses and ponies and donkeys and anything else like a horse freaks me out. Long story. Let’s get something to eat. Azumi?”

“Sounds good to me,” I reply, glad to have a plan. “But hold on. Horses freak you out, really?”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone though. I don’t want to ruin the image I’ve tried to maintain. You know how people are these days, always assuming every football player loves a good ole-fashioned pony ride.”

I laugh again and attempt to stifle my giddiness. His flirting pushes aside my thoughts about his potential Prom dates. As he tells me a story about his dad forcing him to ride one of those depressed donkeys at the state fair, I try not to miss any turns to Azumi. I also rally myself back into thinking my chances of him asking me to Prom might still be pretty good.

He finishes his story and I let out another giggle. “That was really shitty of your dad, but a photo op is a photo op.”

“Hey, can I get a little sympathy here? I was traumatized by a burrow with a bum knee.”

I stifle another laugh. I cannot keep laughing at everything he says. I’m being way too easy. “I’m sorry, that’s awful. Are you also afraid of––Oh my god—I’m sorry, but are you—” And now I’m laughing at my own stupid joke. One I can’t even say because I’m laughing too hard. If there’s anything worse than overlaughing at a guy’s jokes, it’s laughing at your own. I finally manage to ask him if he’s also afraid of unicorns.

He laughs with me and says, “I guess that’d be a yes. Hopefully we don’t run into any tonight.”

When we pull in to Azumi, Sean jumps out, rushes to my side of the car to finish opening my door and closes it behind me.

“Thank you,” and then again when we get to the restaurant door.

Sean slides his hand across my lower back, almost gripping my waist as we walk toward the hostess. I lose a breath as a spine-tingly warmth waves down my torso.

The hostess smiles, “Hello Sean. Are you playing tonight?”

“Nope, off duty for the night. We came for dinner. Is there a wait for a booth?”