Chapter 42
The next day, Xander insists I pick him up for the dance like I would if it were real-life prom.
I wish I had a stretch Hummer with disco lights or a vintage convertible. I would steal one for him in a heartbeat if I were fully invisible. Instead, he gets my beat-up truck and a fraying aux cord.
If he really wanted the full Penango prom experience, I’d show up on a tractor. But I draw the line at smelling like diesel and showing up with greasy fingers.
He instructs me to meet him at the gas station about a mile from Rainbow Valley.
His formalities make me laugh, but after my actual prom night was overshadowed by Murray reminding me it would be our last event ever as a couple, I’m enjoying the redo.
It’s almost like I get to turn back a few pages in my choose-your-own-adventure story and pick a different path. I wonder what chapter this choice will take me to.
This night has to be special for Xander. Partly because I feel bad for being wrong about how to break the curse, but mostly because this is his first date to a dance ever. He’s been waiting for this moment for over ten years.
No stores in Penango have boutonnieres available overnight, so I make my own with flowers from Mom’s garden. I pick a few pink roses from a bush, cut off the thorns, and tie them together with pieces of rope. It looks decent, but I have no clue if it will match his outfit.
He says to dress nice but won’t tell me what he’s wearing.
I’m not sure how fancy to be. I figure it’s going to be pretty casual since it’s a summer camp dance. I settle on white sneakers, navy pants, a white short-sleeved button-up, and a floral skinny tie. It’s too hot for any more layers. It’s a happy medium.
Or so I think.
When I get to the gas station, Xander stands beside the ice machine waiting for me. And suddenly, my outfit feels like a mistake.
He’s wearing an orange tuxedo with white lapels, a white shirt, white shoes, and an orange bow tie. He’s a walking Creamsicle pop.
I can’t put my truck in park fast enough. He’s like a teddy bear hanging at the county fair—impossible not to want. I jump from the driver’s seat, race around the hood, and stop about a foot away from him. He opens his mouth, then snaps it shut.
We just stand there. I smile, breathless.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi.”
“You look so handsome!” he exclaims.
I examine him closer. His face is clean-shaven. The sideburns are gone. His curls are shiny, like they’ve been scrunched and styled with cream. In his right hand, he grips a bottle of Froot Loops–flavored vodka and two red plastic cups.
“You look so cute,” I say. “I’m sorry I’m not in a tuxedo.” I tug on my tie.
“Don’t be.” He grins. “We’re each in our own unique styles. It’s perfect. And plus, no one can see me. I can be a bit outrageous.” He mimics an evil laugh.
I pull him into a hug. An overpowering cloud of cologne, a blend of fresh-cut trees and citrus, floods my nostrils.
“I got you something,” I say.
He sighs, placing a hand on his hip. “You don’t have to do anything more.”
“It’s nothing extra. This is part of the night.” I grab the boutonniere from the passenger seat, hide it behind my back, then spin around for the reveal. “Ta-daaaa!”
He does a double take. “Oh my gosh! I totally forgot about these. Is that the thing that goes on my jacket?”
I nod. “It’s homemade too. I’m not sure if pink clashes with the orange, but I think brightening your ensemble is what you’re going for.” I laugh.
He takes a deep breath. “You’re incredible, Stetson.”
We stare at each other again. His golden eyes flash like the strike of a match. He bites his bottom lip, then his tongue slips out, slicking the surface. My hand flies to my neck, my pulse pounding beneath my fingertips.
“Let me put this on you,” I say.
“Yeah, for sure.”
We both move at the same time. Our heads knock together “Oh no, sorry,” I say. The tips of our noses brush as we correct ourselves.
His cheeks flush. “No, that was my bad. I went the wrong way.”
I hold up the flower and safety pin once we’re still. “Can I?”
“Yeah, I’m ready.” He turns his head to the side.
I focus on his lapel with my tongue poking through the corner of my mouth. The safety pin slips through my fingers a few times, but I eventually secure the flowers on his chest.
I don’t step back. I stay there beneath his chin, pressed against him. Close enough to count the freckles along his jawline and the patches of stubble he missed shaving. I want to reach out and run my fingertips from his chin to his ear, then slide it through his curls.
But I don’t. Instead, I just breathe him in.
“Everything okay down there?” he teases. His Adam’s apple bounces inches from my face. “I’m not bleeding out, am I?”
I snap out of it. “No,” I say, stepping back. “It looks great.” I give the flower a final tug to make sure it’s straight. Somehow it makes him look even better, an impossible thought.
He inspects my work. “It’s perfect.”
I thought Xander was the only one getting surprised tonight. I knew I’d feel good doing this for him. But what I didn’t know was that he’d make me feel everything I was missing from this past year, just like he promised in the river.
All the boys who keep promises must be invisible. No wonder everyone has a hard time dating.
He hooks his arm around my shoulder. “Ready for the dance?” he asks, raising the vodka with a grin.
Before I can respond, a woman exits the food mart with a gallon of milk. She looks our way and smiles. “You must be headed somewhere nice,” she says.
“Let’s ask her to take our picture,” I say to Xander.
Xander flinches. “No,” he says quickly. “She’s just talking to you. Remember our first picture?”
“Oh yeah, right.” I frown.
He knows the photo will turn up empty. Last time that happened, he shrank into nothing. We just have to do our best to remember the night.
I know I’ll never forget it.