Chapter 19
The Valentine’s Dance is held in the school gym, which usually smells like sweat, but my breath catches when we walk through the doors. It smells clean, and the decorations are stunning.
“You wouldn’t even know that just yesterday people were playing basketball in here,” Grace says, the awe in her voice matching what I feel.
The parent volunteers who decorate really went all out this year.
There are several round tables surrounding the open dance floor, covered with silver tablecloths, and there are red paper hearts everywhere.
In the middle of the dance floor, a disco ball shines down, reflecting the splashes of silver throughout the room.
Nearly every wall is covered with black and white cloth hanging from the ceiling.
“Are you sure we’re not in a tent?” I ask, only half-joking.
“It’s still the gym,” Tucker says, pointing above us. “There’s the basketball hoop.” The rest of us look up, but even the hoop has been covered with the same billowing fabric that covers the walls.
“Well, I can see why people love this dance,” I say. I’m still sore and a little weak from my surgery, but I won’t let that ruin my night. Everything looks amazing, and I’m here with Tucker. I couldn’t ask for anything better.
We spend the next couple of hours dancing. Tucker always seems to have an arm around me, holding me close, even during the fast songs. Not that I can really dance to those anyway.
“This is perfect,” I whisper to him as another slow song starts. He smiles and presses a kiss against my forehead.
When a new song starts playing, I move away from Tucker, eyes widening as I take him in.
“Oh my gosh.” There is glitter on every part of his suit.
“I don’t even want to look.” He groans and his eyes don’t leave my face, but I can’t look away from his black jacket, which is covered in glitter.
As are our hands, faces, hair, and basically anything we’ve touched.
The glitter has definitely multiplied, because my dress looks exactly the same as it did when I put it on.
“That’s probably a good idea,” I say as he starts jumping to the beat. I give a little bounce, but wince in pain.
“Water break?” he asks, and I nod. We make our way to the table covered with cookies, punch, and water. He grabs both of us a cup of water and leads me to the chairs that line the wall.
We’re not the only ones sitting out. The dance has been going for two hours now, and I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s feeling tired. I’m actually feeling better than I expected—a tiny miracle.
“So, has this been the dance of your dreams?” he asks.
“I don’t know if I ever really dreamed about dances like this, not in the same way that Grace did. But she is the one who loves all the princess movies.” I give his hand three squeezes. “It has been perfect, though.”
“I’m glad.” He squeezes my hand back when Missy and Amber appear in front of us.
“You shouldn’t be with her,” Missy says, jerking her head toward me. Tucker’s fingers tighten around mine. “ You should still be with Amber. Or even me, but I don’t like you. Amber does, though.” Our heads all swing to Amber, who’s bright pink.
Tucker coughs. “Um.”
“She’s just a selfish brat, you should be with someone who isn’t so self-obsessed,” Missy says loudly, and several people look in our direction.
It’s clear the punch was spiked and she’s had a little too much to drink, judging by the way she sways on her feet—but her words still sting.
I’m not self-obsessed—she doesn’t even know me, how could she say that?
“Let’s go, Missy.” Amber tugs at her arm, but Missy ignores her.
“You deserve to be with a girl who cares about someone other than herself,” Missy says as Amber pulls her away and mouths, ‘I’m sorry,’ to us. But the damage is done.
He deserves to be with someone who isn’t selfish.
He deserves to be with someone who isn’t self-obsessed.
He deserves to be with someone who isn’t a liar.
The words bounce around in my head, the last one making me freeze. Missy didn’t say that, but I am a liar. I’ve been pretending everything is fine and not telling him the truth when I should have. I glance at Tucker. He deserves someone better than me.
“No,” he starts, knowing exactly what’s going on in my head. “Rosie, no.”
“You do,” I whisper, as if saying the words quietly will stop the flood of emotions that’s pouring through my body.
“I only want you,” he whispers back. I can see the sincerity in his eyes. I feel it in his voice and with his hand in mine.
He deserves to be with someone who isn’t me.
I choke out a sob, feeling strangely emotional; normally what girls at school say about me doesn’t get to me, but tonight, it does.
He pulls me to my feet, leading me through the ballroom, away from everyone who seems to be watching us and out into the cool air.
We end up sitting in his truck. I don’t look at myself in the mirror, but I’m sure my mascara has been cried off or is streaking down my face.
“Rosie,” he starts but I just shake my head. Nothing he could say will change anything. Have I been selfish, to keep him for myself? To love him and keep him close even though it’s going to kill him when I’ve gone to Paris?
These thoughts bring a fresh set of tears. I can’t even look at him. He’s holding my hand, a connection I don’t want to sever. My phone vibrates. Good, a distraction, I think, and pull it out of my bag.
Tucker
Ordinary by Alex Warren
I look at him as music fills the truck. It’s a song I know I’ve heard before, because it’s on our playlist, but I’ve never really listened to it.
Tucker starts singing along, staring straight at me as he does.
My heart breaks into a million pieces, but it’s like he starts to pick them up and put them back together as he sings.
The emotion in his voice is raw and I wonder if he’s going to start crying, but he just keeps looking at me and singing along.
I’m quiet when the song ends and a new one starts.
“I don’t want to be with anyone but you,” he says quietly.
“I know that you love dance and that it’ll always be a big part of your life.
Sometimes it makes me crazy when all you seem to think about is what you want.
” His voice catches. “But I want to be with you. And it’s not true what she said, because you do care about more than just yourself, and anyone who knows you knows that. ”
I nod, because I can’t seem to find words. I want to believe him, but Missy’s words won’t stop rattling in my head. Along with my own thoughts. I need to tell him the truth.
“Are you—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“Yes, I’m sure.” He takes in a breath. “ I love you, Rosie.”
“I think I love you, too,” I say and he just shakes his head, laughing.
“Seriously, you’re going to pull the ‘I think’ again?”
I start laughing too.
“Okay, okay, I do love you. I think.” We both laugh again, a feeling of calm settling over us. “I just don’t know how to be sure. I mean, I’m only eighteen. Can you really feel that way about someone at eighteen?”
“Yeah.” He sounds so sure. “You can.”
“How do you know?” I ask. My heart and head are both pounding. I’m exhausted and his confession feels so right, but it’s also making me second-guess everything. I need to tell him about the tumor.
“I know, because it’s how I feel about you,” he says and squeezes my hand three times. “When I do that, I’m telling you I love you.”
“I like that,” I say, and it’s true, because now we have something that’s just ours. A way to say how we feel without having to actually say it. Not that he really needs to say it; I can tell by how he looks at me—and how he treats me—exactly how he feels.
Tell him now. The thought startles me. I know I should tell him about the tumor.
Tell him that it wasn’t my appendix they took out last week.
But even with Missy’s outburst, tonight has been so good and I don’t want to ruin this moment.
I will tell him the truth, just not yet. I don’t want to ruin tonight.
Instead, I say, “I love you, and I’m tired.”
“Well then, let’s get going,” he says. I close my eyes on the way home, paying attention to the music and the way his hand feels in mine. I open my eyes when we stop.
“This is your house,” I say, stupidly. Maybe he knows I have something else that I need to tell him, and this will be my chance.
He smiles. “Yeah, quick pit stop before I take you home.” He hops out of the truck and opens the door for me. “Come on.”
“What are we doing?” I ask .
“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, as if he’s got a million more surprises up his sleeve.
He leads me to the backyard, toward Kenny and Micah’s clubhouse. It used to be their dad’s shed until he converted it into a space for them to be loud and crazy—outside of the house. I shiver in the cool ocean breeze as he pulls me inside.
It looks nothing like it did the last time I saw it, when it was covered with toy trucks and beanbag chairs. Now there’s fairy lights all around the floor and a pile of blankets made into a makeshift bed in one corner. His guitar is resting on the ground next to it.
“I thought tonight would be a good night to share an original with you.” He leads me to the pile of blankets and we both sit. He runs his hand through his hair, the way he does when he gets nervous.
“I wrote this song right after the Fourth of July last year, when you left for Paris,” he says, and I hear the unsaid meaning in his words, when he thought that all of this was going to happen back then.
“I was missing you a lot, and at the time, I thought we were going to be together when you got back. Life didn’t work out that way, but I’m glad you’re mine now.
It’s not quite finished, but I’ve got some of the lyrics done. ”
I smile. We’ve been able to move on from the past. We’re together now. “I don’t think anyone has ever written me a song before.”
He gives me a shy smile. “This one’s for you, darlin’.” He winks, and then he closes his eyes and starts to play.
We’ve been young and reckless
With you standin’ in that dres s
Everything’s been all a mess
But now you’re mine
Took forever for us to come ’round
Scared of taking chances, puttin’
Our hearts on the line
But now you’re mine
I’m grinning like a fool by the time he’s finished. “Wow!”
He ducks his head like he’s embarrassed. “Good wow?”
“Great wow!” I scoot over so I can give him a hug once he sets his guitar down. “That was incredible. I need you to do that all the time now. I loved having my own private concert.”
He wraps an arm around me. “Who knew it would be this easy to get you to fall in love with me?” From where we’re sitting, I can see out the small window, where the full moon is shining bright.
“Nah, I don’t know if this would have worked. I had to fall in love with you first. I just didn’t realize that’s what I was feeling.”
“Still, I should’ve just sang for you,” he says, pulling me closer. I feel his lips press against my hair and I let out a sigh.
“Why do you think I made that rule in the first place?” I tease.
“You’re the worst.”
“But I’m yours now, or maybe you’re mine, so it all worked out, right?”
“It all worked out,” he says, and I’m hoping he’ll kiss me, but instead he pushes himself off the ground, holds out his hand to me, and helps me up. “Now let’s get you home and back in bed to rest.”
I stand on my toes and give him a quick kiss, my heart thundering in my chest. “I have one more thing I need to tell you.” My voice is barely more than a whisper.
Concern flits across his face.
“It wasn’t my appendix, it was a tumor,” I whisper. “They got it all out. I may have to go back in for more blood work and tests, but the doctor said everything looks good and I might not even have to do chemo.”
He stares at me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I glance down. “I just didn’t want to be the sick girl again. You know?”
He nods, slowly. So slowly that I know I’ve ruined everything.
“You’re okay though?” he asks.
“Yes. All clear now.” At least, I should be. I know there’s a possibility of more growth in the future, but Doctor Barker didn’t see any signs of tumors anywhere else on my scan. “I’m good.”
“Then that’s all that matters.” He pulls me into a tight hug. “That doesn’t change anything for me, okay?”
I nod against his chest. I really shouldn’t have been so afraid to tell him. I need to tell Grace, but I’m not sure I’m ready for that conversation yet. I don’t know if she’ll be as forgiving.
“I love you,” he whispers against my hair, pressing his lips to my head. I close my eyes, relishing this feeling. See, I didn’t have to worry. He still loves me.
“I love you, too,” I whisper back. A weight that’s been on my chest suddenly feels lighter. I told him the truth, and he didn’t run away. I didn’t ruin anything.
He tugs on my hand. “Let’s get you home, or I might spend all night kissing you, and I don’t think your mom would appreciate that.”
I laugh. “Probably not.”
He gives my hand three squeezes, and I do the same.