Page 17

“I don’t know,” she finally breathes out. “I thought it might be good for you. Especially with Ava and I having dates to prom, and for you it will be -“
“More of the same,” I finish for her.
She frowns.
“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”
When Ava gets back with a salad in hand, we walk through the lunchroom to go outside and take our usual place beneath a large willow tree that sits majestically near a retention pond most students call a lake.
We haven’t made it halfway across the expansive, sun-kissed lawn before Paul Rollings runs toward us, his brown hair tousled and blue eyes striking beneath the midday sun.
Ivy and Ava both step up because it must be one of them he wants to talk to. He smiles and excuses himself to step around and face me.
“Hey, do you have a second? I want to ask you something.”
Surprised, I blink up at him.
Paul is the varsity quarterback for our football team, and even though their season is done, he still carries that title and draws a large crowd of hopeful admirers everywhere he goes.
Compared to the Inferno boys, he’s standard, but that can be said of anyone not in their exclusive group.
Still, it’s weird he wants to talk to me. We’ve known each other for years and have spoken in class or said hello in passing, but nothing more than that.
Ivy and Ava are staring at me from behind him, odd expressions on their faces, a mixture of surprise and excitement, although I’m not sure why.
I look at him again, my voice soft. “Um, yeah.”
His hand gently touches my elbow as he leads me away a few steps, far enough that Ava and Ivy won’t overhear us.
It’s actually kind of cute how he shifts his weight between his feet and reaches to rub the back of his neck. He’s nervous, but I have no idea why.
“I’m just going to spit this out.” His blue eyes meet mine. “Would you go to prom with me?”
Okay, this is unexpected.
That bitch of a feeling blooms in me again, not as strong this time, nothing that grips my heart or flutters in my stomach. But this type of hope is more a gentle warmth that lets me believe for just one second that my life is normal, just like everybody else’s, and that I’m not bound to a marriage I don’t want.
Ten years.
Plenty of time to have fun.
Even if it’s not with the boy who first suggested it.
Temporary thoughts float through my mind of dressing up and waiting for Paul to arrive at my house. I can imagine the awkward feeling of first inviting him in and my mother wanting pictures, the scratchy band of the corsage he’ll put on my wrist, and the relief of finally walking out the door to go to the waiting car.
It’s all right there until reality comes crashing in that it will be Mason who does those things.
Always Mason.
The hope is gone again, and I hate myself for allowing the feeling at all.
“I-“ Breath leaks out of me, my shoulders withering. “I have to go with Mason,” I explain, “but if you’re okay with meeting me at the dance-“
Paul’s gaze shoots past me before I can finish the thought, eyes rounding as concern bleeds into his expression. He takes a step back and looks down at me.
“Actually, never mind. It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He practically runs away from me like I’d insulted him, that or threatened him for as quickly as he moves. It hurts that he rescinded the offer so fast, confusion strangling me as I turn around to see what Paul is running from.