Chapter 22
22
Natalia
senior year
“I kind of like the blue one,” I say to Yuri. “The one with all the pretty rhinestones on it.”
Yuri holds up the dress I’m talking about against the plain black one she’s already wearing, admiring the sparkly beadwork with a forlorn look on her face. “I know,” she says a little wistfully. “It’s Tyler’s favorite color.”
I nod, encouraging her to pick the one she’s obviously favoring.
She sighs. “But my mom would never let me wear a dress with a neckline that low.”
“You know he’s going to love whatever you wear,” I say, watching as Yuri, with her long hair that runs down to her lower back all swept up in a loose ponytail, admires the dress she really wants. She holds it up to her chest as she swivels side to side in front of the mirror.
“What about you?” Yuri asks, stepping behind the heavy curtain of the dressing room to change back into her street clothes. “Did you find a dress you like?”
“I think I should worry about finding a prom date before shopping for a dress,” I answer, flicking through a small rack of dresses in the open area of the dressing room.
“I say you go solo,” she calls from behind the curtain. “It’s 2014. We girls don’t need a boy to have a good time. Plus, you’ll have me there.”
I smile. I hadn’t really considered going alone. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Certainly better than accepting a pity date, like the one from Hayden. Why he thought asking me would be a good idea was beyond me. Even if he’s no longer with Jenny, I’m sure he has girls within his social circle that would be a more appropriate date.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad idea,” I muse. “It won’t?—”
I’m interrupted by a high-pitched squeal. “Jenny! That dress looks amazing on you!”
Yuri steps out of the dressing room, her too-simple black dress draped over her forearm. Her gaze lands on Jenny and Tina behind me with their excited smiles following their equally excited squeals as Jenny runs her hand down the length of her dress. The same dress that Yuri just hung back up, along with her dreams of looking like a fairy tale princess. Yuri looks back at me, her brows raised with a small smirk before we step out toward the sales floor.
“Natalia!” Jenny exclaims as she notices me walk by, a hint of annoyance hidden beneath the faux excitement. “Are you guys shopping for prom? Aren’t the dresses here so pretty?” She runs her hand down her sides, gliding her fingers along her hips as she waits for my answer.
“Yeah, they look amazing,” I answer, my eyes landing on the lights reflecting off her gown. “But I’m still sort of looking.”
She nods, her fake smile mirroring Tina’s as the two of them continue to look at Yuri and me with a level of disdain that I’m not too comfortable with.
“You know,” she starts just as I’ m about to step away. “I didn’t know you and Hayden were so close.”
I take a quick glance at Yuri, the two of us sharing a confused expression, before looking back at Jenny. “We aren’t,” I say matter-of-factly. “We’re just lab partners.”
“Uh-huh,” she answers, obviously dubious of my explanation. “Hayden’s mentioned you a bit. Said you like to read and stuff.” She says the word “read” an octave higher than the rest of the words in her sentence, as if it should carry the obvious quotation marks around it.
“Uh, yeah,” I answer, incredibly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation has suddenly taken. “I guess I lent him a book once.”
“We should get go—” Yuri says before being interrupted.
“Well, I’m pretty sure we’re going to get back together after prom,” Jenny adds. She swivels her body to face the opposite direction, right into the mirror as she admires her dress. As if she’s grown bored of our conversation and is dismissing me altogether.
“You guys are going to prom together?” I blurt out, too thrown off by this bit of information to refrain from asking, knowing that I probably shouldn’t dip my nose in Hayden or Jenny’s personal business.
“Of course,” she answers with an aggravated scowl, turning around to face me while hovering into my personal space. Her closed fists move to her hips as she scoffs before saying, “Why wouldn’t we?”
“That’s great,” I say, hiding the sudden pang of affliction I didn’t know I would feel confirming the fact that Hayden’s offer to take me to prom was in fact a pity date offer. It makes sense, especially when he obviously has Jenny to go with, no matter their relationship status. “Hayden’s a great guy.”
Jenny’s eyes narrow, her lips pursing together in a firm line. “He is, isn’t he?” she says, turning back to face the mirror again, not really asking to get an answer but more to make a point. Her pressed-together lips part, revealing a sneer of a smile.
I feel Yuri’s hand on my forearm. I face her, her impatient smile rescuing me from Jenny’s scrutiny. “Have fun at prom,” I say to Jenny.
Jenny doesn’t answer. Instead, her narrowed eyes curve into a forged smile before Tina pulls Jenny’s attention toward a shimmering black dress pinched between her fingers. Yuri and I both walk away as the sounds of Tina and Jenny prattling on about their prom plans echo in the dressing room.
present
Hayden: We’re on our way. Should be there in about ten.
Shit!
I scramble with the set of bobby pins, parting them with my teeth and scraping them into my scalp to secure the braid wrapped around the crown of my head. The loose curls that tumble down the length of my hair cascade past my shoulders, wisping around the sweetheart neckline of my dress.
Realizing that I didn’t have anything to wear to the wedding, I went shopping on my lunch break the day before, dragging José with me to hunt down the perfect dress. When our eyes landed on a dress colored “dusty green,” according to the salesperson, I knew I found the one. The lace trim lining the bodice and the tulle skirt that ran the length of my legs to my calves made me feel like a princess .
But I spent too much time on my makeup, making sure the blended colors of my eyeshadow didn’t cross the small threshold between intense and underwhelming. So I’m rushing now, spending the next five minutes applying blush and highlighter before doing a once-over and texting Hayden that I’ll be waiting outside.
My shoes are barely on with the straps loosely threaded through the buckles as I carefully walk down the steps leading to the sidewalk. Just as I’m securing my shoes, my body bent at an angle while balancing myself on one foot, I hear the light slamming of a car door. When I look up, I see Hayden walking toward me. His fingers toy with the front lapels of his suit jacket as he pulls the buttons through the buttonholes.
His shaggy hair is freshly cut, the sides down to a near buzz cut and fading upward to a neatly combed bed of dark chestnut waves. His gaze is focused on the ground, so it gives me the smallest of seconds to watch him. How his body, no longer boy but all man, moves with confidence as his long legs lead the way on the hard pavement. How his hands move deliberately across his suit jacket, smoothing out the material and adjusting the creases. When he finally looks up and sees me, his face lights up. I see it in every shift of his expression, from his eyes that change from cautious to eager, to his mouth cracking wide open to expose his perfect teeth and happy smile.
“You clean up pretty nice, Marshall.”
He smirks, extending his hands out in front of him with a light tilt of his head. I giggle, taking his hand when he offers it to me. He brings it above my head and twirls me like a miniature ballerina in a music box, making my dress fan around me.
“I think we both clean up pretty nice, Marquez,” he says in a low voice. “I feel like I should have brought a corsage.”
With my hand still in his, I half expect him to bring it to his lips. Instead, he taps the tip of my nose before turning toward the car, where Dexter sits at the driver’s seat and a blonde woman with a polite smile to his right .
“Come on, kids! The cake isn’t going to eat itself.”
We pull to a stop in front of a large chapel, stone, brick, and stained glass all nestled in its own arrangement of trees. Trees that still hold the fullness of leaves and haven’t fallen to the ground just yet, ranging in color from forest green to canary yellow and marigold orange. I feel a gratifying rush float through my lungs with the deep exhale that takes every bit of affliction and doubt I’ve felt since Matteo and I broke up, and in the short time since Hayden reentered my life. Suddenly, it’s all been replaced with expectancy. And I don’t even know for what.
But for some reason, I can’t help but connect my kiss with Hayden to it. While I knew why Hayden kissed me, I can’t shut down how tender and soft it felt. How it was as if I had been kissing Hayden my whole life and I couldn’t remember my life before it. Did my lips always feel this empty without him? Did my body crave his hands gripping my waist and tugging at my chin before I knew what his touch felt like?
I tried to forget all those thoughts and the fire that still lined my skin where he touched me as soon as I returned home from our day of karaoke and drinking. I tried but failed miserably. Instead, a jittery set of nerves settled in my stomach anticipating today. And now, being here with him, it’s bringing back the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms all over again, feeling like I’ve come up for air. Like life is being breathed into me, lighting something fierce and unforgettable.
The four of us exit the car and stand on the long gravel pathway leading up the steps of the church with guests slowly trickling in, wearing bright smiles and fitted formal attire. As I smooth down the tulle material of my skirt, I feel a warm hand lightly press into the small of my back.
“You ready?” Hayden asks, the box holding his gift in his large hands.
I turn to face him. I quickly tuck my jeweled clutch under my arm and bring my hands up toward the neatly tied knot of Hayden’s tie, adjusting it so it sits straight rather than at an angle.
His Adam’s apple bobs as his eyes light up, and he smiles down at me. My eyes flit to his mouth, thinking about how the swollen pout of his lower lip pulled my own into him when he kissed me. How the rough pad of his thumb tugged at the curve of my jaw, opening me up to him as I tasted him in a way that I didn’t think possible. He tasted like caramel and sweet cream and a tender warmth that was somehow inviting but flustering at the same time.
“All set,” I say, turning my head in the subtlest of shakes while lightly patting his chest.
But we don’t move. Instead, we stay, facing each other, looking into each other’s eyes as the sounds of happy chatter and crunched footsteps muffle around us. Hayden brushes a lock of my hair off my shoulder, moving it so that it rests across my shoulder blade rather than my chest. When he does this, his fingertips graze the sensitive skin of my collarbone. And without even thinking about it, my eyes flutter. He must see it, my lids falling heavy and my breathing hitching, because his fingers don’t leave my skin. Instead, his hand roams from the base of my neck to my shoulders, trailing a pathway of static down my arm to my hand, where it finally rests.
Our fingers tickle each other, and we’re sitting in limbo where we question what to do next. Do I take his hand in mine? Do we continue this dance, this push and pull of electricity between us?
“Let’s head in, guys,” Dexter calls, interrupting whatever unspoken questions I’m coaxing answers for, causing Hayden to drop his hand to his side .
I don’t miss the way my hand feels empty, completely vacant and bare, when Hayden turns away from me. And I also don’t miss the clenched tic of his jaw as his eyes narrow, his gaze falling to my hand.
My heart starts to pound in my chest, banging against my ribcage, protesting this overwhelming feeling where every vulnerable and weak cleft of my heart feels exposed. I can’t do this again. I can’t risk getting my heart broken again and having to pick up those shattered pieces only to glue them back together haphazardly. And while if it were anyone else, someone where the risks aren’t as high and it would be something to consider venturing into, it wouldn’t be the case with Hayden. Because if things don’t work out, I wouldn’t only be losing someone that I had a memorable yet fleeting kiss with; I would be losing the closest thing to a best friend I’ve ever had.
Hayden clears his throat, gently placing a hand on my lower back again, where it feels safer. I muster a smile, one that wipes away our kiss from my memory and replaces it with all of the moments that wouldn’t be there if Hayden weren’t in my life.
“Come on,” he says in a strained voice.