8. Ellie
Chapter eight
Ellie
Spring of High School, Senior year
“Cheer up, sweetheart. You’re still going to have a wonderful time,” Mama says.
I stare at our reflections in my mirror.
I’m wearing my fitted sequin prom dress, feeling a lot less confident than I did the first time I tried on what I’d called “wearable confetti.” I loved how all the dark colors danced in the lights of the dressing room.
It feels less exciting now.
“Drew will take one look at you and regret what he did,” Cleo says from her perch on the end of my bed.
She’s wearing the dress I made for her. It’s black and white, and strapless.
Honestly, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I ran out of time to make my dress, but I didn’t mind once I found this one.
“I’m so embarrassed that you asked Hunter to take me,” I whine to my mom. “He’s in college. I’m sure he only said yes because he felt he had to.”
“It’s too bad Asher already had a date,” Cleo says as she puts in her earrings. “The guy can dance! Remember the homecoming dance?”
“How could I ever forget?” Asher had just been crowned our homecoming king and he was really feeling it at the dance. I’ve known the guy my whole life and had never seen him move the way he did that night.
“You and Hunter will have a great time. I always thought you’d make a cute pair,” Mama says, looking at me through the mirror with glassy eyes.
I roll my eyes. Sure, we’d be cute, but he’s always treated me like a little sister. Feelings like that don’t just turn into romance.
Mama squeezes me from behind, then steps back from the mirror just as the doorbell rings. “I’ll go let him in.”
“It’ll be great,” Cleo says. “He’s way hotter than Drew. Plus, I’ll be there.”
I snort-laugh at my best friend. We squish in front of the mirror and take a picture.
“We look good, Eleanor.”
I cut my eyes at her. “I’ll never forgive my dad for telling you my real name.”
Cleo grins and heads for the stairs.
Hunter’s standing by the front door in a tux, wearing an expression I can’t quite interpret. His eyes follow me with each step I take down the stairs. He must like the dress. Or he thinks it’s crazy. Although he doesn’t look like he hates what he sees …
“You look really nice, Ells,” he says in a low voice. A little thrill goes through me—Hunter’s never sounded like this before. Almost … sexy?
Then again, his words, “You look really nice” aren’t exactly indicative of anything. A brother could say that to his sister. Or a parent to their child. There’s no way Hunter thinks I’m hot.
I glance over at my parents, standing nearby, my dad’s arm around my mom, and I feel squirmy and weird. Gosh, all this awkwardness isn’t like me.
“Thanks. So do you.” And he does. I think he must have been hitting the campus gym pretty often.
And he’s grown a nice beard. That’s new.
A part of me wants to reach up and scratch my fingernails through his new facial hair.
But my parents are standing right there, and Hunter might not appreciate me being weird.
“You look nice too, Cleo.” Hunter smiles at my friend.
“It’s all the dress!” Cleo smiles as she takes the last step and throws an arm around my shoulder, squeezing. “Ellie made it for me. Isn’t she the most talented?”
Hunter looks incredibly impressed as he takes a second look at the dress, then meets my eyes. “That’s amazing. I mean, I’m not shocked, but … wow.”
“Thank you.” My face is warm, and I’m pretty sure Mama could line me up next to her prized tomatoes and no one could tell the difference.
We stand in silence for a moment before Dad speaks. “Get together there by the stairs so we can take a picture of you guys.”
We shuffle awkwardly together, none of us knowing where to put our hands. He takes a couple of shots of us, and I think we’re finished until Cleo speaks. “Okay. Now one of just these two.”
I snuggle up against Hunter like I’ve done for I don’t even know how long, but it feels different this time when he puts his arm around me. He feels strong and secure. He feels like a man. And as weird and unexpected as it is, it feels good.
The moment we step into the school gym I spot Drew. It’s as if my eyes aren’t yet used to the fact that he’s the last person I want to see.
“He’s so disgusting,” Cleo growls beside me.
Drew’s sitting with his date on his lap, laughing like he hadn’t dumped me two days ago, right after Chelsea suddenly became single.
I turn to Hunter and find that he’s seen the object of our attention. He clenches his jaw, and I think there are daggers shooting from his eyes. Hunter has been my protector for as long as I can remember. He’s the big brother I never had and I love him.
Funnily enough, I feel the need to pull his thoughts from Drew. I put my arm around his waist and squeeze. “Thanks for coming with me. We’re gonna have fun, yeah?”
Hunter pulls his eyes from the spectacle that is Drew, puts an arm around my shoulders, and pulls me further in. “Yeah. We’re gonna have fun. Drew’s an idiot for not realizing what he’s missing out on.”
He has been so nice to me since I got dumped.
“Y’all should get out there and make him jealous,” Cleo says, then nudges me with her elbow. “You’ve got yourself a college man.”
“I don’t have myself a college man.” I roll my eyes and feel Hunter's arm leave my shoulders. I shiver from the cold—and maybe even the loneliness—as soon as his arm isn’t there.
I get it, Hunter. You’re almost too old to be here. This is weird for you.
Electricity by Silk City and Dua Lipa comes over the speakers, and Cleo grabs my hand. “Let’s get out there!”
I grab Hunter’s hand before Cleo pulls me too far, and he joins us in the middle of the dance floor. I almost expect Hunter to freeze. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him dance.
His moves aren’t expert. We aren’t likely to have one of those moments where everyone stops to stare at the shockingly proficient dancers in the middle of the dance floor. But he has rhythm and confidence. Honestly, it looks good on him.
We dance as a trio for several songs until Leon Bridges’ Beyond begins to play. Everyone who doesn’t want to slow dance leaves the floor.
“I’m gonna go see if Caleb wants to dance,” Cleo says. Caleb is her chemistry lab partner who has a major crush on her.
“Don’t give him false hope,” I tell her.
“Who says it’s false?” She winks at me. “You kids have fun.”
I turn to Hunter and find his eyes already on me. “Wanna dance?”
“Sure.”
Even with my high heels, it’s a stretch to reach my arms around Hunter’s neck. I hope it’s not weird for him that I’m standing so close. But he doesn’t seem bothered as he brings his hands to my waist.
It should feel weird to dance like this with this brother-like man, but it doesn’t. It feels good and safe. Like things always do with Hunter. He’s like a warm blanket by the fire in the middle of a snowstorm.
As the music plays, Hunter’s arms come around my back, and we get closer and closer.
I’m not sure if it’s me stepping in, or him pulling me toward him.
Maybe some combination of the two, but I find myself with my head resting against his shoulder.
I’d assume my big curls would bother him, but he seems to be leaning into them.
I’m sure we paint a very lovey-dovey picture. I hope Drew’s watching. He won’t be able to tell that this isn’t our regular dynamic. Actually, I bet that’s why Hunter is holding me so close.
He’s so stinkin’ thoughtful.
And I certainly don’t mind. No one’s ever danced with me like this. Cory, my date last year, was the I’m-only-gonna-fast-dance type. The single slow dance I convinced him to attempt ended with us swaying at an uncomfortable distance, avoiding—and then accidentally making—eye contact.
I feel Hunter’s hand slide slightly up my back and there’s a definite press toward him. Is this weird? I must have stiffened, because he immediately lets go and steps back.
He looks slightly panicked, which is very unlike him. “Sorry. I uh … I really like to slow dance.”
“I like it too,” I say, then, remembering Cory, I add, “With you, anyway.”
I see his lips twitch in a small smile before he pulls me back in. It’s comfortable here. The steady peace he’s always brought surrounds me on the dance floor, and I know it’s gonna be a good night.