Once Upon a Grad Night #3
He grins. “Now we’re talking. Speaking of.” Luca snags his phone from the cupholder and hands it to me. “Mind finding some of their music so we can listen on the drive down?”
With Luca at the wheel, I scroll through his phone, look up a playlist for A Girl Named Girl, and hit play. As we cruise toward the boardwalk, he drums along on the steering wheel, and I nod my head along to the beat. We don’t say much more as we drive.
My mind keeps replaying the night so far, set to the soundtrack of the band.
I think of Luca showing up to grad night despite having plans.
Of how he invited me into his world for the night.
Of how he listened while I was unexpectedly vulnerable.
Of how he offered wisdom and encouragement.
Of how he called me pretty. Of how I practically vibrate if he’s looking right at me.
Of how he leaned into me when I fixed his hair.
Of how being around him has made me understand that I’ve been missing out.
Of how it’s got me yearning for so much more.
“Deja?” Luca’s voice breaks me from my thoughts, and I realize he’s asked me a question I didn’t catch. We’re parked at the boardwalk, and I somehow missed that, too.
“Sorry. What was what?”
“I was saying it might be a little chilly, so I was asking if you wanted my jacket?” He holds it up for me to see.
“That would be great, actually.” We climb out of the car, and Luca drapes his coat over my shoulders, a move that sends the tiniest shiver down my spine. “Thank you.”
His eyes trail over my body, and I bite my lip.
“No, yeah. Of course,” he says. “You ready?”
I say nothing, fearing my voice has run away, and give him a small nod. We walk side by side to the boardwalk, greeted by the scents of fried dough and popcorn mixed with sunblock and salty beach air. Lining the boardwalk are carnival games, shopping stands, snack stands, and rides.
“Do you remember when we came here for a field trip in eighth grade?” I ask.
Luca laughs. “God, yeah. Bentley Cooper tried riding the teacups while doing a handstand and almost got us all kicked out!”
“Yes! Mr. Beliveau was pissed. Rightfully so—I thought Bentley was going to get whipped off that thing and break his neck or something,” I say, laughing, too.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they hung our class picture on a wall of banned riders or something.
Which means we should probably skip the teacup ride. ”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Luca agrees. “We have a date to get to, anyway.”
The words ring in my ears. I open my mouth to reply, then close it again without a word. It’s possible Luca means we have a date with the band, not with each other, but what’s the harm in letting myself hope?
I picture how the two of us might look to others—Luca, in a bow tie, wearing pants that match the jacket I have on over my gown to keep me warm—and press my lips together, hiding a smile.
It’s a busy night on the boardwalk. While we walk, I try to refocus my attention on some of the sights around us: pastel cotton candy being spun onto sticks, friends talking and laughing in line for rides, couples holding hands and taking photos together, families bobbing up and down on carousel horses.
There’s a lady walking six dogs and a vendor making balloon animals and a particularly happy-looking young kid whose arms are full of prizes from the carnival games.
We even see a dude who’s both holding a surfboard and riding a unicycle, weaving effortlessly through the crowd.
“Bentley Cooper wishes,” I quip, and Luca laughs.
When we make it to the concert area, we have a choice between grabbing seats toward the back or crowding near the stage.
“Mind if we stand?” Luca asks. “I’d love to see the band up close.”
“Works for me!” We weave our way through the concertgoers until we’ve secured a spot near the front.
He drums his fingers on the barricade. “I’m super psyched about this. In case you couldn’t tell.”
“You don’t say,” I tease.
“I know, I know. It’s just—I’m excited about the band, of course, but you gave up grad night to be here, so I want to make sure you have a good time.”
“I’m having a great time.” I hold out my pinkie for him. “Promise.”
He wraps his finger around mine, and there’s a little spark of electricity. Our eyes meet. My stomach flutters.
“Whoooooo’s ready for A Girl Named Girl?!” the emcee’s voice booms over the loudspeakers. “Before we welcome the band to the stage, a few announcements…”
Luca and I quickly let each other go and divert our attention to the stage as the emcee rattles off some safety rules for the show. I pretend to listen really, really hard. When I dare to sneak another peek at Luca, there’s a small smile on his lips, and it fills me with hope.
“And now, let’s welcome to the stage the raddest band this side of the Atlantic: A Girl Named Girl!”
The band (of all amazingly cool women, obviously) walks onto the stage to loud cheering from the crowd. They wave, settle with their instruments, and immediately launch into a catchy song about taking up space.