Chapter 35 Easton
Easton
“Why did you do it?”
The question slips out before I can stop myself, my hands white-knuckling the buttery leather steering wheel of the car I borrowed for tonight.
It’s a sleek black sedan with polished silver rims, a showpiece designed to turn heads—especially hers. Dan, our neighbor, handed over the keys with a warning: “If you so much as scratch this car, kid, I’ll personally kick your ass.”
Dan is a big dude, so I believe him.
My date shifts in her seat, tilting her head toward me to reveal her flawless profile, like her every angle and curve was designed to catch the light just right.
“Why did I do what?” Maddie barely spares me a glance.
When I picked her up, her bougie parents didn’t take photographs. Instead, she grabbed my hand and dragged me out to the car, hardly sparing them another look. They stood in the door listlessly waving, their daughter unmistakably ruling the roost, à la Regina George.
“Why did you ask me to prom?” Inquiring minds want to know.
My date had zero interest in dinner, so we’re heading straight to the dance, and honestly? Conversation has been a nightmare.
So yeah. I need her to enlighten me.
Maddie’s laugh is more of a tinkle. “I assumed you wanted to ask me, so I beat you to it.”
She assumed I wanted to take her to prom.
Wow.
That is some arrogant bullshit, but also: She’s not wrong. I would have wanted to ask her, before I accidentally fell at Harper’s feet and turned my world upside down.
I grip the steering wheel, forcing myself to keep my eyes on the road instead of giving Maddie’s perfect profile another sidelong glance.
Unbothered, she twirls a strand of her long blond hair around her index finger, looking utterly bored, as if she’s stating universal truths: You like me.
I didn’t have a date. I did you a favor by agreeing to be yours.
“You assumed I wanted to ask you,” I repeat, tone neutral, her words running on a loop through my addled brain. Trying to make sense of it.
Trying not to feel like a fucking idiot.
“Duh.” Maddie leans back in her seat, pursing her glossy lips in my direction. “I mean, isn’t that what guys like you do? Lie in bed praying a girl like me will give you the time of day? Honestly, Easton—you’ve had a crush on me since, what, middle school?”
Uh.
I am speechless.
My mouth just about falls open.
She’s not supposed to know about my crush, and she’s certainly not supposed to say shit like that to my face! Maddie may be correct, but the way she says it makes something inside me bristle.
“Maybe I had a crush on you. So what?” I admit after an agonizing pause. “People can change their minds.”
And wise up.
I’m suddenly regretting the night ahead.
“You have not changed your mind,” she counters with a loud laugh. “C’mon, Easton. Don’t tell me you don’t love this—prom night with me, the girl you’ve been obsessed with for years.” She tosses her expertly curled hair. “It’s, like, every guy’s wet dream.”
Oh my god.
She is so full of herself.
Off-the-charts self-centered.
Part of me thinks she might be teasing. Still, her flippancy isn’t sitting right with me. I glance at her briefly, catch the way she stares at herself in her phone camera, adjusting the angle to get her good side. Adds a filter.
Continues to ignore my gaping mouth.
This night is already so different from what I imagined. I thought going to prom with Maddie would be fun, or hot, or like the cumulation of my high school fantasies come true. This is not the ideal start to the evening I had planned. It feels hollow.
It’s annoying.
Maddie. Is. Annoying.
“You’re really full of yourself, you know that?” I grind out, my voice so sharp she stops mid-selfie, arching a brow at me.
“Excuse me?”
I raise my chin but keep my eyes on the road. The last thing I need is an ass-kicking from Dan. “You heard me.”
“Wow. Jeez.” Maddie huffs, adjusting the purse on her lap and setting her phone down for the first time since I picked her up. “Someone’s a little cranky tonight. What’s your deal?”
“What’s my deal?” I snap. “My deal is that…You publicly railroaded me into taking you to a dance I was not going to invite you to. And now I’m stuck with you and your shallow, selfish…”
I’m so fired up I almost lose track of what I’m saying.
“…self-centered attitude,” I hear myself finish, words tumbling out like vomit.
“You made this all about you, Maddie. You didn’t ask me to prom—you made a scene so I couldn’t say no.
Now here we are, in a car I borrowed to impress you, going to a dance I wasn’t planning to attend with you, all because you decided it would be fun to jerk me around. ”
Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s silent. Well, miracles of miracles, Maddie doesn’t have a comeback.
This must be a first.
“Wowww,” she says again, drawing the word out. “Tell me how you really feel.”
I glance at her, catching the way her lips press together in a mix of surprise and irritation. Maybe I should feel bad, but I don’t.
Not tonight.
“What the hell do you want me to say?” I continue, my voice quieter but no less tense. “This is the magical night I’ve always dreamed of? Because it’s not.”
Maddie crosses her arms, her perfectly polished nails silently tapping her elbow. “If you didn’t want to go with me, you could’ve said no.”
“Oh please.” I let out a bitter laugh. “We both know how that would’ve gone. You’d have made sure everyone at school knew I rejected you, and I’d never hear the end of it.”
She stares at me for a long moment, her usual snarky confidence faltering.
“That’s not fair,” she says softly, almost defensively. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you.”
“Weren’t you?” I shoot back, turning in to the school parking lot. “Because it felt like it.”
I hate being put on the spot.
That’s why I hated having to pull off the senior prank; they left me with no choice.
I ease into an empty space and put Dan’s car in park; its engine purrs quietly as we sit in tense silence. Maddie looks out the window, her gaze fixed on our classmates walking toward the entrance of the gym in their finery.
Sparkling dresses shine under the lights.
“Well,” Maddie says in a clipped tone. “I guess I made a mistake asking you. Sorry for thinking you wanted to come to prom with me.”
I let out a sigh, leaning back against the headrest.
This conversation is bonkers.
“That’s not—” I stop myself, shaking my head. Now I feel bad that I made her feel bad. How fucked up is that? “You know what? Forget it. Let’s just go inside.”
Maddie doesn’t move.
Doesn’t unbuckle her seat belt, doesn’t reach for her phone, doesn’t glance in my direction. She keeps her eyes trained on the parking lot, the silence stretching until I can no longer take it.
My hand braces on the door handle.
“Are you coming?” I ask her.
“No,” she snaps, crossing her arms and glaring out the window. “Why would I want to go inside with you after that little rant? Clearly I’m just a selfish brat ruining your night.”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “That is not what I said.”
I might have thought it. But I didn’t say it.
“Close enough.” She twists her body to face me, chin tilted defiantly. “You made it pretty clear you’re miserable. So go on. Go ahead without me, Easton. Go have your stupid night with your stupid friends. I’ll get an Uber home.”
Jesus Christ, she is so dramatic.
I lean my head against the headrest, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Shit, Maddie. Can you stop for, like, two seconds?”
She huffs, crossing her legs and tapping a heel against the car floor. “Stop what? Breathing? Existing? Sorry my presence is such a burden.”
I unpinch my nose and turn to face her, my patience wearing thinner. “Stop turning this back on me. Stop acting like I’m a jerk for being honest.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I hurt your feelings after you hurt mine?” I swear her bottom lip is trembling, but it’s dim in Dan’s car and I can’t tell for certain. “I didn’t realize this date came with free therapy.”
That is not what this is.
“God, you’re impossible! Why are you so goddamn rude all the time?” I blurt, running a frustrated hand through my hair and feel it sticking out all over. Honest to god, I want to pull it out. “You think everything is a performance, don’t you? This is real life, not fucking TikTok.”
She freezes, mouth gaping like she’s about to snap back—or just snap—but no sound comes out. This is the second time tonight I’ve stunned her into silence.
I watch as her fingers (nails painted a light blue to match her dress) tighten around the strap of her purse, holding on to it as if it were a lifeline. I’m fully expecting her to lash out at me again.
But when she does speak, her voice is quiet.
Controlled.
“Maybe I…” Maddie clears her throat. “Maybe I act like that because it’s easier than being real.”
“Easier than being real?” The shift in her mood catches me off guard. “What do you mean?”
She exhales sharply, her hands twitching in her lap. “Forget it.”
“No,” I press, my frustration softening into curiosity. “Come on, dude, tell me. What’s really going on?”
My date hesitates, gaze lingering on the parking lot in front of us. For a moment, I think she won’t answer.
But then:
“Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like you’re never enough?” She is almost whispering and I struggle to hear her. “To feel like if you’re not perfect—if you’re not on—then no one will care about you? Because I do. Every damn day.”
I blink, her words sinking in like stones in water. “Maddie…”
She cuts me off with a humorless laugh. “I have to post the selfies, have to have the right clothes and say all the right things—because if I don’t, no one will like me.”
“You think you say all the right things?” I ask, arching an eyebrow. “Really? Because half the time, you’re a pain in the ass.”
Her lips twitch. “Screw you, Westermann.”
“Well, you are, kind of.” I attempt to lighten the mood. “Why start lying now?”