20. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 20
GRACELYN
I can’t believe I’m going to the Hoco dance with Mack tonight. I haven’t been to a dance since college, and I’ve never had a date like Mack—big and strong enough to carry me, a real man. Someone I can lean on, count on. Bonus points for smelling like freshly sawed plywood and pine, a strangely intoxicating combination.
Last night after Mustang’s, Sloane and I spent an hour combing through my closet for something to wear while the guys talked football. We debated back and forth between a few options, but the long black satin V-neck ultimately won. Sloane swears it shows off my curves and is the perfect dress for the occasion. Due to both time and budget constraints, I’m choosing to believe her.
Now I have to get through one last updo of the day before I race home to shower and style my own hair.
“What do you think?” I spin Avery, a junior at Thunder Creek, around and hand her the mirror. She tips her head side to side, taking in every angle.
“I like it. The butterflies are finally in the right spot.”
We’ve been fighting about where to place the sparkly hairpins for the last thirty minutes. Thank goodness I finally nailed it because it’s getting late.
“Fab! Have your mom close out the bill up front, okay?”
“Okay, Ms. Gracelyn! Thanks so much!” Avery pops out of the chair and I clean up my area, officially off-duty for the rest of the weekend.
My feet hurt and my arms ache from using the blow dryer all day, but it’s nothing a hot shower won’t fix.
“Bye, Mom!” I shout, dashing down the hall. “See you later!”
I only have an hour to get ready before Mack picks me up. Racing home, I hop into the shower, turning the temp all the way up to scalding. The pulsing water does the trick, easing the knots in my neck and shoulders, and I’m finally relaxed.
Much as I’d love to stay in longer, I hop out and dry off, apply lotion. Wrapping my hair in a towel, I pad to my room to get dressed. I fish through my drawer for the matching black V-string and lacy bra set and shimmy my way into the lingerie. Then I slip into the sleek satin dress, zipping it up.
Sloane’s right. This dress looks good on me. The main focus is my cleavage, drawing attention away from my squishy midsection. I fasten a diamond drop necklace, along with matching earrings. Two spritzes of perfume, one on each wrist, and I’m ready for hair and makeup.
I flip the blow dryer on, turning the diffuser on my curls. After an eternity, my hair’s dry and I spin the top section into a chic half-up chignon. Clipping it with a long silver hairpin, I move to makeup. I go shimmery on my eyes and add three coats of mascara for a dramatic evening look. Blush, contour, highlighter, and a swipe of nude lipstick complete the look.
Slipping on black strappy heels, I’m ready, with five minutes to spare. I snap a selfie and send it to Sloane, then pour a glass of wine while I wait.
Bestie: OMG, you look HOT!
I text her back a smiley face emoji and grin at my cell, warmth spreading through my chest.
Bestie: Have the BEST time
Gracelyn: Will do
Bestie: Keep an eye on my dad
I laugh. Oh, how the tables have turned. Used to be our parents worrying about us—now it’s the reverse.
Gracelyn: I will. Don’t worry—not much trouble you can get into at a high school dance
Bestie: IDK. There are a few teachers over there who are absolutely feral for him
Gracelyn: Well, he is pretty good looking
Bestie: Eww. That’s my DAD, Grace
Gracelyn: Just saying—I can see the appeal
Gracelyn: But I understand. I’ll watch out for him
Knock, knock, knock.
Gracelyn: Gotta jet. Mack’s here
Bestie: Have fun! Luv ya!
Taking a deep breath, I suck in my stomach and open the door.
“Wow. You look…amazing.” Mack’s voice is low and husky as his eyes rake over my body, lingering on my chest. “Wow.”
“Thanks. You look pretty damn handsome yourself.”
And he does. I’ve never seen him dressed up before, not in all the time he’s lived next door to my mom.
I didn’t think he could get any hotter.
I was wrong.
The fancy clothes tip him into a whole new stratosphere of gorgeous. His dark blue suit fits him perfectly—it has to be custom tailored to stretch over those broad shoulders. His sandy waves are slightly gelled and brushed back from his face, his facial hair neatly trimmed, highlighting his strong jawline.
“Thanks. These are for you.” Mack hands me a stunning bouquet of red and white roses tied with a chic black satin ribbon.
“Aww, sweet. Thanks. I’ll put them in a vase real quick, then we can go.”
I hurry to the kitchen and drop the roses into a vase, leaning in and taking a quick sniff.
Mack brought me roses.
I can’t remember the last time a man brought me flowers. My heart hammers, fizzy excitement bubbling inside me.
“Ready?” I cut the lights and Mack takes my arm, leading me out to his truck and helping me into the cab.
“You mentally prepared for a night of fruit punch and noisy high schoolers?” His gravelly voice sends an electric thrill racing up and down my spine.
“Absolutely. Sounds like a great night.” I shoot him a wide smile.
“You’re a strange girl, Gracelyn Reynolds. But I’m glad you’ll be with me.”
He backs down the driveway and I relax into the well-worn leather seat, warm happiness flushing my chest.
This man could be the one for me.
One hand on the wheel, Mack reaches over and brings my hand to his mouth, brushing my fingers lightly with his lips. The warm exhale of his breath dusts my skin and I’m struck by the sweet gesture. So small, so slight, yet so tender. Hot tears prick at the corners of my eyes, threatening my three coats of mascara.
“I’m glad you asked me.” I gaze over at him, the masculine scent of pine winding around me and lulling me into a Mack-stupor. The same stupor that sends my pulse into overdrive and floods my panties with even the most innocuous touch.
“Firecracker, there’s no one in the world I’d rather have with me at the Homecoming dance than you.” He cuts his deep green eyes at me and my breath hitches in my throat, heart pounding. That’s the sweetest thing a man’s ever said to me in my whole damn life.
Still, I take a slow breath, a little reminder not to get ahead of myself. I should stay grounded, realistic. Remember I’m not the star of a real-life rom-com, ready to be swept away in a glittery carriage by Prince Charming.
But damn, that’s hard to do sitting next to Mack. He looks every bit the part of my prince and I’ve never felt more like Cinderella in my life.
Hopefully I don’t lose my strappy heel when the clock strikes midnight. I really love these shoes.
“Here we are. Let’s do this.” Mack parks in the school parking lot and the two of us make our way toward the cafeteria.
Music blares from speakers set up on the stage and the room’s dim, the usual bright fluorescent lights replaced by strobing spotlights aimed at the makeshift dance floor. A clump of brave high schoolers moves as one in the center of the floor, while a few chaperones stand off to the side chatting.
“There’s Carter.” Mack points to the refreshment table.
Sure enough, Sloane’s dad’s standing guard next to the punch bowl, a hand shoved deep in his suit pocket. A couple female teachers hover nearby, but no one’s boldly hitting on him. Not yet, anyway.
Mack and I circumvent the dance floor and join Coach Carter at the refreshment table.
“Y’all want some punch?” Coach Carter waves a hand at the giant plastic bowl of red liquid.
“I’m gonna pass. Thanks, though.” Mack plucks two mini bottles of water from the table, handing one to me. “It’s louder in here than Mustang’s.”
“What?” Coach Carter shouts and I giggle.
“Exactly my point.” Mack unscrews the lid of the water and takes a long chug. “How long does this thing go again?”
“Only until ten. You’ll be home before your bedtime, don’t worry.” Coach Carter folds his arms over his chest, surveying the dance floor.
“Isn’t that the quarterback, Langley? And his mom? We sat with her at the game.” I point to the two of them standing on the opposite side of the dance floor.
“Yes, that’s them.” Coach Carter tips his head at the pair, both waving shyly in our direction.
“Langley brought his mom to the dance?” I scrunch up my nose at the concept. Even I wasn’t that hard up for a date back in high school.
“No, she works here. In the front office. I’m sure she got roped into chaperoning too. Langley doesn’t seem too happy about it either.”
“Definitely not.” I take a sip of water as Langley takes a huge step away from his mother, creating a wide berth. Meg tucks her hair behind her ear and glances around the room nervously. I take a chance and wave her over.
“Hey, Meg. Love your dress.” I motion at her sparkly silver minidress. A bold statement for a mom of a teenager, but she looks great.
“Thanks. Langley wasn’t a lot of help in the dress department.” Her cheeks flush bright pink, noticeable even in the dark room.
“Boys, am I right?”
She laughs at that, her shoulders loosening a touch. I notice her sneak a sideways glance at Coach Carter and I remember what Sloane said about women being feral for her dad.
Meg Langley isn’t exactly feral, but she’s definitely interested.
“Excuse me, but we could use a volunteer or two over by the photo booth.” An older woman with a tight gray bun taps Mack on the arm. “Would you mind?”
He shrugs. “No problem. See y’all.”
Mack slides his hand around my waist and we walk over to the massive balloon arch. A photographer’s snapping pics, the flash popping every few seconds. We monitor the line, making sure no one gets rowdy or flips off the camera.
Eventually, there’s a lull in the action. The photographer lowers his camera, taking a quick breather.
“You two want a photo?” He eyes us, waving us over to the arch.
“I’d love one, thanks!” Grabbing Mack by the hand, I drag him into the center of the display as the photographer lifts the camera.
“That’s nice.” The flash pops once, twice. “Now, get closer. That’s good. The gentleman needs to stand behind the lady, right. Like that. Wrap your arms around her waist and she leans back against you. Good.”
Click, click, click.
“Last pose. The lovely lady rests her hand on the gentleman’s chest and looks up at him. The gentleman drops his hand to her hip. Good. Hold it.”
My breath catches as I stare deep into Mack’s eyes, the photographer snapping away. The way Mack’s gazing at me, his expression serious, sends a rush of heat to my belly and sparks light beneath his fingertips.
“You two make a great couple. Here’s your photo number.” The photographer hands me a paper slip with the details. “Call me when you need wedding photos.”
The photographer winks at us and my cheeks flame. The next couple moves into the balloon arch and we step away.
“That was embarrassing,” I whisper, moving out of earshot of the cameraman.
“He was a big fan of you.” Mack shoots me a sideways glance, taking in my tight dress and my curves.
“Stop! He was not.” I smack his biceps, giggling.
“Oh, yeah he was. If I wasn’t there, he’d definitely be getting your number.” Mack loops his arm around me possessively, pulling me in close to him.
“Good thing I already have the most handsome date in the room.”
“Glad I can outperform the high schoolers.” Mack squeezes my hip, a sly smile tugging at his mouth.
A slow song comes on and half the dance floor clears out, a few new faces moving in.
“Would you dance with me, Firecracker?” Mack asks.
“Absolutely.”
Together we take the floor, sticking to the outer edge. Mack’s hand rests at my waist and I wrap my arms around his neck, moving in closer to him. We shuffle back and forth to the beat, our feet perfectly in sync.
“What are you talking about, you’re not a good dancer? You’re doing great.” I run my thumb back and forth on his neck, warmth radiating from his skin.
“That was kinda a lie. My parents forced me into cotillion, so I know a few of the major steps. But dancing’s not my core strength.”
“Well, I think you’re selling yourself short. I’ve danced with a lot worse.”
“I’ll be sure to let my mother know. She’ll be well pleased to hear the torture paid off.”
I giggle as Mack spins me around, twirling me out before bringing me back in close to him. Resting my head on his well-defined chest, I shut my eyes and sway to the music, breathing in his clean scent.
I’m falling for this man.
He’s everything I never thought I’d find. Strong, handsome, kind. A good listener, an even better lover.
I can’t imagine life without him now that we’re together.
The song fades out and the DJ transitions into “The Cupid Shuffle . ” A throng of high school kids rushes onto the dance floor, jostling us.
“And that’s my exit cue. You good?” Mack stares down at me and I nod.
“Yeah. I’m good.”
We leave the dance floor and Mack checks his watch. “I have to use the restroom. You?”
“I’m good. Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m a big girl. I’m okay here.”
“Okay.” He lightly presses his lips to mine, then hustles away to find the bathroom.
Thirsty after dancing, I spin back around to the refreshment table in search of more water. Coach Carter’s gone and so are all the mini water bottles.
All that’s left at the table is Jamie freaking Ware.
FML.