Chapter 17
“Dude, you need to calm down.”
“CJ, shut up. How am I supposed to calm down when…I’m missing homecoming?” I hedge.
“Mmhmm. You’re about to flip your lid because you’re not going to homecoming? Are you sure it’s not because you’re not going to homecoming with Delilah?” CJ taunts.
“Yea right.” Yes. That’s exactly why I’m losing my shit.
“You’ve never cared about a school dance in your life. Why are you in a tizzy over this dance if not because of Delilah?”
“You heard she’s going with Roger Mirowski, right? That guy’s a douchebag. I don’t trust him.”
“Roger Mirowski? You mean the brown-haired hunk from the drama club? That Roger Mirowski?” CJ sasses back.
“There’s only one Roger Mirowski at school and you know it, you dick. He’s a douche, okay? I don’t like Delilah going with him.” I can’t explain it—I could—but I don’t want to explain it to CJ.
She’s going to look so pretty, I know it. And he’s going to pick her up in his stupid car. And hold her hand. And touch her back when he dances too close to her. He’s probably going to try to kiss her.
My anxiety morphs into rage and I huck my water bottle across the room.
“Can you text me from the dance if…” I don’t even know what I’m asking for.
“Yes, you know I will. I couldn’t keep that kind of gossip to myself if you paid me.” CJ winks and leaves me to my misery.
“Fuck. You. You cocksucker!” I yell into my headset. Even blowing up zombies on my Xbox isn’t taking the edge off. I tap my phone screen again, it’s after eight and still no text from CJ. The dance started an hour ago. I can’t take it.
Me: Update?
CJ: I don’t have an update.
Me: Fuck you. You’ve gotta give me something.
CJ: Okay. The music is terrible, the decorations are gawdy, and Tina Sutton is sucking face with Tom Milton in the boys bathroom.
Me: CJ! How’s Delilah?
CJ: She came with Olivia a little while ago. They’ve been in and out of the girls bathroom since.
What the fuck? Why did she come with Olivia? Where’s her “date”?
Me: Where’s Mirowski?
CJ: Haven’t seen him. Hold on, let me go find out.
I pace back and forth in front of my bed. How long does it take him to get me some answers?
CJ: Don’t freak out, okay?
Me: CJ…
CJ: He stood her up.
Me: He stood her up? What the fuck! Is she okay?
CJ: I’m not telling you until you promise not to freak out.
Yea right.
Me: Fine. I promise I won’t freak out.
CJ: She’s crying.
Goddamn it. Mirowski’s dead. I don’t bother texting CJ back even though he’s blowing up my phone.
Shoes. Keys. Truck. Headlights. My tires screech around the corner and I throw the gearshift into park. My door hangs open—this won’t take long.
I pound on his front door.
“Hello?” Roger’s mom answers the door.
“Is Roger home?” No need for pleasantries.
“Yes. Roger! One of your friends is here to see you!” Mrs. Mirowski hollers. Feet stomp down the stairs and Roger’s ugly face comes into view. Mrs. Mirowski leaves Roger alone at the front door. Big mistake.
“Uh, hey Connor. What’s up man?” Roger asks, genuinely confused by my presence.
I gesture for him to follow me outside. He does, hesitantly, and we stand in his driveway in the shadows beyond his porch light.
“Don’t you have somewhere to be right now, Mirowski?” I seethe.
“Uh…”
“Did you forget something? You know, like picking up your date for homecoming?”
“Oh, haha. Yea. I didn’t feel like going. You know how those dances are.”
“Sure do. That’s why I didn’t ask some poor girl just to stand her up.” Fury blankets my consciousness.
“It’s not a big deal. Everyone meets up with their friends anyway. No one will miss me.”
“So, it didn’t occur to you Delilah might’ve been excited to go tonight, spent a ton of time getting ready, and waited for you to pick her up? Which you never did?” My voice raises with every way he let her down.
“It didn’t cross your dumb-as-fuck mind she would’ve been devastated when you never showed up?”
Roger flinches as I snap in his face. “Dude, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. I’d say you need to apologize to her, but I don’t want you speaking to her ever again.” I back him against the brick of his house, my hands aching as I squeeze them into fists.
By the time I’ve finished, he’s slumped on the ground, and my knuckles are torn to shreds.
Me: How’s the dance, doll?
Dollface: It’s okay. I want to go home but my ride isn’t ready to leave yet.
Me: Good thing I’m outside then.
The biting fall wind should be cooling my boiling temper—I wouldn’t be surprised if steam’s coming off my exposed skin.
My focus hasn’t left the gymnasium doors since I got to the dance.
I blink, and she’s there. My heart stops.
She’s…beautiful.
Her white hair glows in the moonlight, swept into a high ponytail, exposing her delicate neck. Her dress is stunning. The strapless bodice showcases her narrow shoulders.
The dark night casts shadows on her collarbones and the dip between her breasts. Buttery fabric clings to her body like a lover.
I can’t stop the dry swallow that bulges my throat.
She’s a ray of sunshine in the black of night. The yellow dress compliments her personality perfectly.
My sunshine.
My fallen angel. Just like the day I first met her. I’ll never see the color yellow without being flooded by memories of Delilah.
As she approaches, her pace quickens, racing to get to me. Her ethereal face is marred by tear tracks, eyes red and puffy from crying over that asshole. I should’ve killed him. But I can’t protect my doll if I’m behind bars.
“Connor!” Her sweet, broken voice is music to my ears. She collapses into my outstretched arms.
“Shh, shh, shh. It’s okay, doll. I’m here. Don’t think about him another second. He’s nothing to you.” I gently grip her ponytail and stroke the rope of gold again and again as she cries into my chest.
Despite my heart breaking from absorbing her pain, it’s mended by the way she needs me, trusts me, leans on me. In this moment, I’m overtaken by the delusion I succumb to every now and then. Her being mine.
Would she want me? Does she like me the way I like her? I want her in my arms forever.
“Dance with me.”
Delilah’s silver eyes snap to mine, pink lips parting on a gasp. I hold her by the nape of her neck and press her face back into my chest and rest a hand to small of her back.
And in the yellow glow from the light poles, we dance.
The vanilla scent of her shampoo makes me high, and I find I’m not cold at all. I’m on fire with need for Delilah. My sweet best friend who’s allowing me to hold her in my arms and sway as I hum our song beneath the stars.
We’ve stopped dancing, frozen in time between friends and something more. Delilah lifts her face to mine and I move without thinking.
I kiss her.
Her lips are warm from being buried in my chest and taste like a cupcake. I’ve kissed girls before, but nothing has ever compared to this—so right, so all consuming, so inevitable.
We pull apart from the best kiss of my short life and her eyes are filled with…tears.
How did I fuck this up? What was I thinking? She’s vulnerable and I kissed her. I kissed my best friend. Fuck!
I look away, I can’t bear to see what truth is shining in her eyes.
“Let me take you home,” I quietly offer. Delilah simply nods.
The drive is agonizingly quiet. Charged with all the things we should say but won’t. I refuse to say the kiss was a mistake. But there’s nothing to say that won’t break my heart.
A sharp gasp sends my head jerking to find the threat. “Your hands! Connor, oh my god! What happened to your hands?”
My bloody, busted knuckles grip the steering wheel. Shit. I didn’t clean up before I got to the dance.
With a pathetic smirk, I joke, “You should see the other guy.” Delilah frowns at me. I’ve gotten into fights before, but I’ve always been up front with her. Tonight, I have nothing to say.
After saying goodnight, I wait for Delilah to disappear into her trailer. Once alone, I stumble into the bushes and throw up until bile burns my sinuses.
I’ve ruined everything.