Chapter 53
LACHLAN
I’m studying my face in a dark wood Craftsman mirror with black spots of desilvering where it’s gotten oxidized.
My face looks familiar, although there’s a new lightness in my eyes, and my shoulders feel like they’ve shed fifty pounds of weight. The cut on my forehead is still visible. It might scar.
But I’m familiar with scars. Those are the places my skin is the toughest.
The mirror is in the Hammonds’ house, where I’ve been staying since the night we called the cops on Uncle Norm. I do my best to help with cooking, cleaning, and other chores, but with three of us and a modest house, it’s easy to keep up.
I was able to get a restraining order in place before Uncle Norm was released from jail, so at first he went and stayed at a hotel.
Then, Mom told me, he found a condo to rent until I go to college.
I still took all my stuff out of my room, and every day after school, I come home to Isak and Rochelle’s house, which I already think of as my real home.
I didn’t grow up under this roof, but this is where people love, understand, and accept me.
I can’t imagine Isak or Rochelle ever yelling at me.
I’m strong, but I can be vulnerable around them. I trust them.
Every evening since the show closed, I curl up next to Isak on the couch to watch foreign films and cuddle, more in love and feeling safer than I ever have before.
Isak has been with me for so much longer than he’s been my boyfriend.
He knows more about me than anyone else.
Even in the years that we didn’t really talk or interact except the occasional wave or nod, he somehow knew what happened to me. We’ve always belonged together.
Most kids are almost sad about going to prom—or at least nostalgic—because high school graduation is on its heels, but I’m not. I’m ready to move on. Now that I have a real home with a family I chose and that chose me, my life is just getting started.
I feel like Isak and I have a blended family of his mom, his friends—who are now my friends—and Vince, who I think will stick with me through thick and thin.
I had a heart-to-heart with him about what happened that night at my house, and he got pretty pissed on my behalf, even offering to ask his parents if I could stay with them.
I wonder how things would be if I’d gotten an offer like that years ago.
But now I share a bed with Isak every night, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
I sleep better with him next to me. He’s my bony teddy bear.
I need to feel his weight, hear his breathing, touch his skin, smell his Irish Spring scent.
Isak is mine.
That said, we do share the house with his mom, and the walls aren’t the thickest, so we have to limit our messing around to while she’s at work or do our best to stay quiet. I can’t wait for tonight—a whole night of privacy.
Tuxedo-covered arms wrap around my waist, and Isak kisses my cheek. Then, looking in the mirror, he straightens my tie. “You look hot, babe,” he murmurs.
I spin in his arms and kiss him, then step back so I can take him in.
“My god, you’re absolutely beautiful,” I blurt.
He got a haircut, so his dark hair is less wild than usual, and he’s wearing a little eyeliner.
Up close, his freckles are so cute. His classic black tuxedo matches mine, but he’s wearing Doc Martens while I opted for the standard shiny dress shoes.
“Thanks,” he says, and busies himself pinning a red rose on my lapel.
I do the same for him.
We go into the living room, where Mom and Rochelle are waiting. Rochelle bursts into tears, and Mom gets choked up, too.
She and Rochelle have been making plans for her to go to rehab, and they’ve found a local facility with a bed opening up soon that’s covered by insurance. Mom will miss my graduation, but that’s not important.
“Oh my god, Kylene. They look so grown up,” Rochelle whispers, pulling out her phone and taking a few photos.
“Stunning.”
“We gotta go, Mom,” Isak says. “We’re going to be late.”
Isak and I are used to attracting attention. We made dramatic entrances on stage for weeks, and since the show ended, Isak’s taken to posting occasional pictures of us—he calls me his “hot, blond jock boyfriend”—on Ad/VICE, and they’ve gone low-key viral.
Arriving together at the hotel for our prom, both of us in tuxes? We look hot, and the whole room turns to see. It’s a tiny bit unnerving, but I take a deep breath and double down, resting my hands on his waist. He leans into me and nuzzles my neck.
We check in and get our table assignment, then wait in line for photos.
The photographer arranges us. First, Isak and I stand side by side, arms around each other, and then we do one where it’s clear we’re not just bros but boyfriends.
We kiss.
We kiss, and the shutter clicks.
“Can’t wait to see how those turn out,” I say. They aren’t the photos my uncle would have wanted for me, but I think they’ll be absolutely perfect.
Inside, music is playing and people are gathered in groups.
The girls are decked out in sparkly, slinky dresses, while the guys for the most part are in tuxedos, or at least jackets and ties.
Isak and I aren’t the only same-sex couple here, which makes me feel like I’m part of a different kind of in crowd than the one I used to run with.
“We all look good,” I mutter.
Zanita races up to us, showstopping in something that looks like a Gothic wedding dress: black lace, with blood-red flowers going down one side. Malik, a few steps behind her, has on a matching bow tie and cummerbund. She squeals at Isak and practically tackles him.
He hugs her back, and the possessive monster inside me growls “Mine.” Even though I know they’re only friends.
Before long, they’re seating us for dinner, and then the deejay takes over with songs for dancing.
I sit the first ones out, choosing to talk with my friends and hold Isak’s hand, but once a slow song comes on, I stand up. “Dance with me?”
Isak’s smile is breathtaking. “Yes.” Isak stands, and his cheeks are pink.
“I know you know how to dance,” I murmur. “We did it onstage.”
“True.”
I lead him out and take him in my arms, and it’s like every movie I’ve ever watched with a couple on the dance floor. I kiss Isak during the song, and the world seems to stop while everything circles around us like we’re the center of the universe.
Because all I’m focused on is him. How cute and handsome he looks in his tuxedo.
His tumbled dark hair and his brown eyes.
His pouty lips and his charming laugh. How, even though he’s not comfortable in a tux, he manages to look like he is.
He really should be a fashion model if he can’t be an actor.
Though he might be happier doing something else in theater.
We dance and dance, and I kiss him again and again.
At the end of the night, Isak says it isn’t a surprise when I’m voted prom king.
But I’m not surprised that he’s voted prom king as well.