Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I blush, skirting past him on my way to the door, stuffing my feet into my shoes. The backs bend inwards with a crack, confirming they’re way past their expiration date.
“Hey, wait up,” Caleb says.
I’ve already grabbed my shoe box and bag, and now I’m heading out of the house. I don’t want to spend another minute with his mom, listening to all her reasons why Caleb and I shouldn't be together.
Caleb follows me out, chaotic steps pounding down the porch. I pivot, breathing heavily as I step into their yard instead of using the sidewalk.
“Bec, wait,” he says, fingers grasping the edge of my jacket. “What was that about?”
“She wants me to break up with you.”
“What?”
I turn, stomping my feet into place. “Who is she to tell me to break up with you?” I gesture with the bag in my hand, making it swing at him. “Who is she to assume I'm going to mess things up with us?”
He dodges the bag.
“She could have it a million times worse. You could’ve ended up with some murderer or thief.”
He holds his finger up with a slight cringe. “That—that might be a slight exaggeration. I have a feeling I wouldn’t date someone like that—”
I interrupt him. “Or some girl who likes to party or get drunk or who-knows-what else. I’m an angel compared to that.
I’m the type of girl that stays home and watches the Syfy channel for fun.
My idea of a reckless night is sneaking downstairs at two a.m. and eating out of the ice cream carton instead of putting it in a bowl. ”
He laughs. “Oh, wow. You’re bad.”
“I’m just trying to get the point across that you could do worse. Much worse.”
A dimple-framed smile stretches across his face. “No one else compares to you. I don’t see anyone else when you’re around. To be honest, I can’t even think about anyone besides you right now.”
My rage begins to calm. “Well, good. That’s the way it should be.”
“Why do you say that?”
“If you want to date me, you better not be thinking about any other girls,” I mumble.
He laughs, biting his lip. “What?” His gaze shies away as he rocks on his heels. “Will you say it for me one more time? Will you call me your boyfriend again?”
I roll my eyes with a smile before looking him straight in the eye. “You’re my boyfriend.”
He blushes, his cheeks immediately five shades redder. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of hearing you say that.”
The word feels foreign; it doesn’t belong on my tongue. Butterflies flutter in my stomach each time it’s spoken. But I wonder how good it would feel to hear him call me his. “So then, what am I?”
His mouth twists to the side, trying to subdue his contagious smile. “You’re my girlfriend.” He walks forward and leans down to kiss the top of my forehead. “My slightly crazy girlfriend.”
“Hey,” I say, shoving the shoe box into him.
He catches it, blocking any real damage. “It’s not a bad thing. You had the nerve to yell at my mom just now.” He cringes. “She’s probably going to hold that over you for the rest of the foreseeable future. No pressure.”
I groan, turning back around to trudge through the yard. “Ugh, I still can’t believe it.”
He falls into step with me.
“My mom told her about the college I got accepted to in New York . . .”
“Wait, what?”
I stop, closing my eyes to hide from his disappointment. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t know how.”
Here comes the part where he either hates me or begs me not to go, right?
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into a hug. I stiffen in shock and look up at him. “You’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? That’s amazing. I love that you’re putting yourself out there.”
“Really?”
He smiles big. “Of course.”
“What about the distance?”
He laughs, furrowing his eyebrows. “I figured you of all people would’ve known that's why they invented airplanes.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
He tucks my bangs behind my ear, grazing my cheek with his thumb. “The distance might be hard, but I’m sure you have a good reason for wanting to go there.”
I do. Well, at least I thought I did. I wanted to be as far from here as possible, but now the voice in my head is getting louder. It’s telling me that maybe running away isn’t what I really want. Maybe that won’t solve all my problems.
I smile at him, appreciating his support.
Rain starts to trickle down.
He takes my hand. “Let’s go inside.”
I nod, walking with him to my house.
I open the door and kick off my shoes. “Mom, I’m home!”
Caleb steps in, closing the door. “Hello, Mrs. Jacobs.”
Mom pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Hi,” she says, overly chipper. She’s wearing a bright yellow skirt that almost blinds me and pink framed glasses.
I glance around. Dad is nowhere to be seen.
She gasps. “Is that what I think it is?” She rushes through the living room faster than the speed of light and looks at the label of my bag. “What’s this?”
I shift my weight, rubbing my feet. “It’s for the winter formal. I went shopping with Sadie.”
She covers her mouth. “You’re going to a dance?”
I nod slowly.
She’s a bomb of excitement, waiting to go off, shoulders bobbing. “You have to try it on.”
“Right now?” I stagger back. “Why?”
“Please? I’m sure Caleb would like to see it too.” She smiles over at him, her head tilting up, along with her eyebrows. “You haven’t seen it already, right?”
Caleb raises his shoulder. “I mean, I don’t know if you’re supposed to see what your date wears before the dance.”
“What? It’s not like it’s a wedding. Who cares—” I say.
A small unexplainable sound peeps out of Mom. “A date to the dance? Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
Caleb laughs. I roll my eyes.
“Please try it on. Who knows if you’ll ever go to another one?”
“Wow, thanks, Mom.”
There’s a scheming glint in her eye as she looks between Caleb and me. “Or I’d love to hear more about how you two started dating?”
I jump toward the stairs. “And I’m trying on the dress. I’ll be back in five.”
“Don’t forget your shoes,” Caleb says, handing me the box.
I take it and hurry to my room to escape whatever Mom was seconds away from asking Caleb.
My bedroom door catches on the pile of dirty clothes as I open it.
I cringe. It’s becoming overwhelming. The mess continues to grow and Mom refuses to help clean it.
She made it very clear that I’m almost an adult and need to use it as an opportunity to be responsible.
The clutter never bothered me before, but something about the idea of Caleb or Sadie seeing it makes my skin crawl.
I set the box on the bed and slip off my sweats, stepping into my dress. The fabric is still as smooth and comfortable as I remember.
I pull my new shoes out of the box. I didn’t get a chance to try them on with the dress earlier, and I want to see how they look together. I’m hoping it won’t be a massive mistake I’ll regret ten years from now when I look at pictures.
They’re navy-blue high tops, lacing part way up my ankles. I’m still in mild disbelief that Sadie managed to talk me into a color other than black.
When I stand, the dress flutters over the shoes, making them hardly noticeable, but I know they’re there, and I’m comfortable. That’s what’s important. I fluff my curls to try and breathe some life back into them before marching back down the hallway to the stairs.
Mom is anxiously waiting at the bottom with her phone held up, ready to take a million photos.
“Mom,” I whine, shielding my face.
“Oh, stop it.” She gestures, signaling me to move my hands. “I want to remember this.”
I give her a look, but I drop my hand to the rail anyway as I come to a stop halfway down. “So?”
“Baby, you look gorgeous,” Mom says.
Her words fly over my head because I’m distracted by the soft side smile tugging on Caleb’s lips as he leans against the wall behind her, his hands in his pockets.
I can’t help but smile back.
“Come down and do a twirl,” Mom says.
I eye her with a pout. “A twirl? Really?”
She waves me down. “I’m recording a video for Grandma. You can’t say no.”
I do the most reluctant and awkward twirl in the history of mankind, dipping slightly at the knees and turning with tiny steps.
“I love it!” she says, putting the phone away. “Show me the shoes?”
I pull the dress up enough to uncover my high tops.
“Didn’t you buy some shoes for the dance?” she asks.
I tap one of my feet on the ground. “These are the ones I bought.”
Her lips twist to the side. “Don’t you think formal shoes would look better?”
“I like them,” Caleb says. “They make the outfit more . . . Becca.”
I chuckle. “Thank you.”
Mom sighs. “Okay, well, it might take a minute, but they’ll grow on me.”
“That’s good because I’d rather go barefoot than wear heels.”
She wrinkles her nose, then nods in determination. “You know, sneakers are sounding a lot better all of a sudden.”
Caleb laughs behind us.
A beeping noise comes from the kitchen.
“That’s the lasagna. Caleb, do you want to stay for dinner?” she asks, peering over her shoulder at him.
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he replies.
“Where did Dad go?” I ask. “I wanted to show him a new show that just came out.”
Mom’s eye twitches ever so slightly. “He just left for a business trip. He won’t be gone long.”
My shoulders sag. I know he’s not really on a trip. “And he didn’t say goodbye?”
“It was last minute otherwise you know he would’ve.” She leaves to turn off the timer.
My head drops. My heart stings from Dad’s avoidance. “I better change because I guarantee I’ll stain this.”
Caleb circles his hand around my wrist. “Wait.”
“What?”
He steps closer, staring down into my hazel eyes. “I want to tell you something.”
A shy smile covers my lips. “What?”
His head dips and he kisses right behind my ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers as his warm breath tickles my skin.
While I stay perfectly still and collected on the outside, there’s a romantic girl buried deep inside me that can’t help but freak out. She’s giddy and speechless.
“Hey Caleb, dinner’s actually in here!” Mom calls from the kitchen.
The way my jaw drops. “Mom!”
Caleb’s face turns bright red, but he laughs it off.
I jump back toward the stairs. “I’m heading up to change!” I yell, pausing halfway up. I lift the dress again. “Do you actually like the shoes?” I ask.
“I think they’re the best part,” he says.
“You’re not just saying that because I like them?”
“I promise you, I like them. In fact, I like them so much, I might get my own pair for the dance.”
I roll my eyes. “You wouldn’t.”
He smirks. “Is that a dare?”
“No.”
“Well, it should be.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because I’d look snatched,” he says with a wink.