Chapter 2 Prom And Principles #5
So I take the little foil package from his hand, shove it into the pocket of my tux, and say, “Thanks, Neil.” I drop his real name in his face like a final stinger and walk away, not looking back—not once.
A few other guys make a collective “ohhh” of animalistic respect for me as a red-blooded man as I stride past them all to get out of the bathroom. But the momentary blip of victory is short-lived.
“Why did you do that?” Rudy asks me as soon as we’re back in the hallway. I can tell he thinks I’m an idiot for caving to Ferg’s bullshit.
Honestly, it probably was an idiotic thing to do. But my knee-jerk reaction is to justify it. So I say, “To prove a point.”
“Why do you need to prove a point to those guys? They’re a bunch of losers.”
“Because I’m sick of them making me feel like I’m not… not one of them.”
“You’re not one of them. You’re better. At least, I thought you were.”
I turn to give him a sharp look. “Look, I’m not gonna use it, Rudy. I’m gonna throw it away right now.”
“Do that. Before Tessa sees it.”
“She wouldn’t even know what it is.”
Rudy raises his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”
I can see the disappointment in his eyes as he walks off to rejoin Clara. It makes me feel even more slimy for what I did back there in the bathroom.
Rudy’s right. I shouldn’t have needed to prove a damn thing to those guys. Why do I care so much about what they think? They aren’t my friends; they never have been.
Part of me wishes I could go back and do it differently. But I can’t.
So, instead, I shake the whole thing off and head straight for the nearest trash can, insurance policy in hand.
But before I make it there, Tessa appears—latching onto my arm. “Wes, there you are.”
Shit.
I shove my hand back into my pocket before she sees what I’m holding. “Hey,” I greet her with an easy smile, kissing her cheek. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Tessa replies, twisting the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. She looks flushed and disoriented.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, it’s just… really crowded in here. Can we pop outside and get some air?”
“Absolutely.”
With Tessa’s arm looped through mine, we make our way out of the noisy, hot gymnasium and through an exit door. The cool evening air feels good after the suffocating combination of cologne and body odor.
Tessa lets out a deep, long sigh. Just looking at her, I can tell she’s not eager to go back inside anytime soon.
“You want to get out of here, don’t you?”
She tips her head against my shoulder, even more beautiful in the dim wash of the parking lot lights.
“Well, I won’t make us leave if you’d like to stay longer,” she confesses.
“But… I’d rather go somewhere else, just the two of us.
I’m not… ready to go home yet.” She lifts onto her tiptoes and catches my lips in a slow, lingering kiss.
My hands fall to her waistline, holding her for a moment as we taste each other in the darkness.
It’s a teaser trailer for something more, something that sparkles in her eyes as she draws back to look up at me expectantly—her pupils dilated and her cheeks rosy.
“Uh, we could go up to Hickley Point,” I suggest. “Look at the stars.”
She smiles, fingering the edge of my necktie. “That sounds perfect.”
TESSA
Irresistible. That’s the only accurate word for the way Weston looks tonight. I’ve seen him twice before in formal attire, but never in a tux with a boutonniere pinned to his lapel—his blond hair so perfectly tousled, it begs me to run my fingers through it.
As I stressed to my mother a few days ago, I am not a girl who gets carried away by her emotions. There are some things I can resist. But kissing Weston in the front seat of his truck at the top of Hickley Point is not one of them.
Our favorite love songs play softly on the radio as we melt into each other’s arms, reality slipping away with every kiss, every touch, every heartbeat.
This is my desire—the simple pleasure of being held by him, loved by him. It’s more dazzling than a hundred disco balls and a hundred proms to go with them. My ears are still ringing from the loud music and merry chaos of the dance, but there’s a kind of heavenly peace here with nobody but Weston.
He’s taken me up to this lookout point before.
It’s spectacular at sunset and breathtaking on a starry night like this.
But I’m not much interested in stargazing right now.
Weston has my full attention, his fingers in my hair as we kiss by the dashboard lights.
When one of the braided coils falls away from the rest of my updo, Weston draws back.
“Oops, sorry,” he whispers, holding up a pearl-tipped hairpin. “Wrecked your hair.”
I bite back a smile. “It’s okay. Nobody else is going to see me tonight. You can take it all down if you want.”
Weston looks stunned—as though I’ve given him permission to undress me. “Really?”
I shrug. “As long as you don’t pull my hair and make me scream.”
He murmurs a laugh under his breath, leaning in to kiss me as he releases another pin from my elaborate updo. One by one, the braids tumble down, little sprigs of lily of the valley falling into my lap as my hair comes undone. Weston takes one blossom between his fingers and lifts it to his nose.
“I love that you remember this,” he says.
“Of course. I’ll never forget.” I lace my hands behind his neck and lean in for another kiss, crushing my lips to his and losing myself in the perfection of this moment.
Weston gently works the tiny elastics off the ends of my braids and runs his fingers through my hair, letting it all flow loose and free around my shoulders. Something is different about the way he looks at me—a thousand unspoken emotions smoldering in his eyes like a wildfire.
“You’re so… beautiful.”
It’s the hundredth time he’s told me that tonight, but now his words hit differently. As though we’re both trapped in a spell—in a dream. The lucid kind that’s too good to be true… but I don’t want to wake up.
I want to keep dreaming forever.
My heartbeat quickens as Weston lowers his mouth to the hollow beneath my earlobe and presses a torturously soft kiss there. Everything in me melts, and my fingers curl around his tie, drawing him closer. For a moment, I am swept away by a force beyond my control.
When I find my footing again, I lower my forehead to his shoulder, a breathless laugh shivering out of me. “Wes… if we don’t stop now… I’m not sure we’ll be able to stop at all.”
He exhales against the curve of my neck, his heart pounding under my fingertips. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
“It would be a wonderful thing,” I admit, easing back to give him a soft smile. “But not here. Not now.”
He nods understandingly, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know.” And there’s no mistaking the crestfallen look in his eyes.
“Are you… disappointed?”
“What? No.” He shakes his head. “That’s not… no. I know how you feel about it. I respect your boundaries, Tessa. I admire them. I admire your… self-control.” A smirk plays at his lips as he closes his hand over mine. “I admire you in so many ways. You put me to shame.”
“Shame?” I volley the word back, arching one eyebrow playfully. “Why? Because you’re sitting here having all kinds of dirty thoughts about me?”
A pained little laugh escapes him. “No. I’m not. It’s not… that.”
He doesn’t say what it is, but I can tell something is getting under his skin. I don’t like any miscommunication between us, so I decide to clear the air.
“We can talk about it if you want.”
“Talk about what?”
I shrug. “Sex.”
Weston’s eyes clash with mine, as if I just uttered some shocking form of profanity.
“What? It’s not like you’re the only one dealing with certain… urges.”
Now he laughs, one of his easy laughs—tipping his head back against the driver’s seat.
“I know. And we don’t need to talk about it.
I just…” He swallows, looking down at our fingers interlaced in my lap.
“I wonder if sometimes we do things because we want to look a certain way to other people, you know? We might say things we don’t really mean just to keep up a reputation. To feel like we belong.”
“Some people might feel that way,” I say softly, “but for me, it’s not about what other people think of me.
I don’t care about that. They can think whatever they want.
What’s important is what I think of me. And if I let myself…
go there with you…” I look down, a blush warming my cheeks.
“I’d feel like I let myself down. And I’d always regret not waiting. Not being true to myself. You know?”
Weston nods slowly, taking in my speech with such a solemn sweetness in his eyes. He looks hypnotized for a moment before he finally speaks, his voice a thready whisper.
“What did I ever do to deserve you?”
I smile, dipping my head self-consciously.
“No, I mean it,” Weston says, lifting my knuckles to his lips and kissing them.
“You’re so perfect. So beautiful and strong and confident and comfortable in your own skin…
” His voice wavers on that last compliment, and I see a ghost of a sour memory pass through his eyes.
He looks down. “You’ve made me a better person just by knowing you. ”
“The feeling is mutual, I assure you.” I lean in to press a featherlight kiss to his lips. “You know, I’m pretty sure most guys would be disappointed to find themselves with a girl like me tonight.”
“Oh yeah? Why?”
“Because.” I tip my head to the side. “According to my mom, most guys have certain expectations after prom.”
A fleeting, indecipherable expression crosses Weston’s face, then gives way to a soft smile. “Well, I’m not like other guys,” he says, that steady self-assurance returning to his voice.
I rest my head against his shoulder, and he circles one arm around my back. For a while, we sit gazing out over the lights of Rockford and the scattering of stars in the velvety black sky.