Page 8

Eight

Connor almost choked on his root beer when he heard the news.

“What do you mean you’re going to the Hun School’s junior prom?” he asked from the couch, leg casually draped over the arm.

He’d made himself at home here years ago.

“Since when do you even know anyone from Hun?”

“Since yesterday,” Dad answered before I could, failing miserably at masking a small smile.

“She went on a coffee date.”

I groaned.

“It wasn’t a date!”

“Then what was it?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” I said.

“I guess whatever you call coffee dates with your clients.”

“A war room meeting?”

Connor chuckled, but it was all too quickly drowned out by the NHL game on TV.

The New York Rangers versus their cross-river rival, the New Jersey Devils.

“AND HE SCORES!” the commentator exclaimed.

“NICK CARMICHAEL ON A POWER PLAY GOAL!”

Across the room in his designated armchair—we were a tad superstitious and all had “lucky spots” for Rangers games—Da pumped a fist in the air before unlocking his phone and furiously texting Austin.

Professional hockey had always been their thing.

Katie apparently loved it too, but she was a Devils fan.

“Only Rangers fans are welcome around here!” Da had joked when Katie first told us, but you could tell from her flushed face that she hadn’t taken it as one.

Ironically, Mr. Gallant had made the same crack to Austin, but now they made absurd bets before every game.

The last time the Rangers had beaten the Devils, Katie’s dad had to wear Austin’s Rangers tie to work for an entire week.

Marc Gallant, it turned out, was the Devils’ general manager.

“Connor’s right, though,” Da said after the second period had ended.

“How did you originally meet this kid?”

“He’s cousins with Reese, one of Katie’s bridesmaids,” I said.

“He needs a date for JProm, and she thought we might hit it off.”

“Did you?” Connor asked while I felt my parents both eyeing me.

Dad seemed amused and Da a little suspicious.

He definitely wanted more of the story.

Not yet , I thought.

This was between Katie, the bridesmaids, and me (and Marco, but unofficially).

Just trust me.

Katie’s girl gang had been thrilled that Davis and I clicked.

Amanda had sent a spree of enthusiastic emojis while Courtney and Paige had both texted some version of, You go, Mads!

I just got off the phone with him , Reese had messaged.

He thinks you’re cute and says you have a ton in common!

That made me blush; no guy had ever called me cute before.

I reread her text before Katie chimed in: Ooh, details please…

I’d been happy to provide them.

Now, Connor asked if Davis played a sport.

“No.” I shook my head.

“He’s a musician—”

“A musician ?” Dad sucked in a sharp breath.

“Are we talking rock band or boy band?”

“Does it matter, Harry?” Da asked.

“Both have a long and complicated history with substance abuse.”

“Wedding band, actually,” I reported.

“Besides playing saxophone in his school band and singing in two choirs, he and his friends have formed a wedding band. I can show you their Instagram page.”

My dads looked genuinely impressed.

“And,” I added, “he has been appointed official concert chaperone for his younger sister and her fellow tweens.”

I expected Connor to roll his eyes.

When his parents had asked him to take his thirteen-year-old brother and his buddy to Olivia Rodrigo last year, he had outright refused.

Instead, it was me who screamed and sang along with Liam and Noah at the Wells Fargo Center in Philly.

Austin had plenty of yummy greasy takeout waiting for us afterward; he’d insisted we crash at his apartment.

Katie hadn’t moved in yet.

Whenever Liam McCallister referenced it as “the best night ever,” Connor looked like a dog with his tail curled between his legs.

“There’s always Shawn Mendes next July…” I liked reminding him.

“He sounds like a good guy,” Connor eventually said, and my parents nodded in agreement.

Dad—who now had his laptop out, probably doing a background check on Davis—also gave me an emphatic thumbs-up.

“But”—Connor cleared his throat—“if you have a good time, does that mean he’ll be coming to our JProm?”

Shoot , I thought.

Our high school’s junior prom was a week after Hun’s, and technically, I already had a date.

Well, not exactly a date, because said date was Connor.

He and Brenna had broken up at the end of February (and Lauren Bitterman hadn’t wormed her way into his heart yet).

Do you want to go to JProm together?

he’d texted while I was playing a showcase down in Florida .

I really want to have fun, and I always have the most fun with you.

Yes , I’d replied. Because I have the most fun with you, too .

Then I took a screenshot of those two messages and saved them to my camera roll, rereading them every now and again.

They made my heart twist for different reasons.

I loved knowing that our friendship was solid, strong, and true…

but it also made me think of Austin and Samira, best friends who’d fallen so hard for each other in high school.

Sometimes I spiraled, wondering why Connor and I weren’t like them.

If he could just stay single for five seconds, would something happen between us?

“I mean, I hope Davis and I have a great time together,” I told Connor now, a lump in my throat.

“But I’m already locked down for JProm.” I shrugged.

“Some lax bro asked me via text.”

“Lame!” my parents chorused.

They still wouldn’t let Connor live down the fact that he hadn’t asked me in person.

Connor’s lips twitched up in a smile.

I shook my head and smiled back before Face-IDing into my phone, which was blowing up thanks to the bridesmaids.

Now that Davis and I were officially going to JProm together, they were hell-bent on finding me the perfect dress.

I’d been immediately bombarded with links to potential dress options before Meredith had quelled the madness.

Everyone cease! she’d texted, and then: Mads, would you like ideas?

Or do you have it covered?

Ideas welcome! I wrote, even though I could literally just wear the violet cocktail dress I’d worn to Katie and Austin’s engagement party.

Davis had said the dress code was semiformal.

But the truth was, this was so unexpectedly fun that I’d consider all input offered—and hoped for some from Katie.

Maybe I wasn’t looking forward to browsing bridesmaid dresses for hours together, but a link or two from Lulus or Reformation would be nice.

She knew my style best.

Cool!

Meredith texted. Please describe your personal style so Amanda doesn’t waste time scouring the White House Black Market website .

I giggled a little. WHBM tried to be cool and sophisticated but was on the preppier side.

Not to mention, way too old for me.

Nana still shopped there.

“How would you describe my style?” I asked the family room.

“Fun pants and a white top,” Connor said automatically, unaware how well he’d been trained.

“That’s an outfit ,” I said.

“Not an aesthetic.”

“Fine. Purple, then.”

“And that’s a color.” I sighed, though from the mischievous look on his face, he was clearly just teasing me.

“We need a vibe , Con.”

Connor’s next contribution was a shrug.

“Mmm, how about classic…” Da started.

“With a bohemian twist,” Dad finished.

I gave him a blank look.

“You used that description for a listing in Lambertville.”

My Realtor father smirked.

“Did I?”

“Yes.” I laughed, but then my fingers flew across my touchscreen.

“And it’s totally perfect!”

***

“What do you mean he’s not picking you up?” Da asked on the drive home from a Saturday field hockey game.

Here we were in mid-April, finally playing outdoors.

We’d won, but it had been a close one: 5–4.

Half my mind was still back on the turf, visualizing Amy and me playing tic-tac-toe up the field before she faked out the other team’s goalie and passed the ball to me…

But still no invitation to visit Penn, I thought.

Why hasn’t it happened yet?

I was doing everything right.

Wasn’t I?

“Mads?” Dad’s voice brought me back to reality.

“Davis isn’t picking you up for the dance?”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head.

Hun’s JProm was tonight.

“He’s not.”

Dad turned in the front seat to give me a look while Da shot me one in the rearview mirror.

Why not?

“It doesn’t make sense,” I told them.

“He lives in Princeton, we’re having dinner in Princeton, and the dance is in Princeton…” I shrugged.

“Why should he have to drive to Pennsylvania only to go back to New Jersey?”

“Because it’s the chivalrous thing to do,” Dad said.

“Well, chivalry might be dead,” I replied.

“I don’t know if picking up your date is even a thing anymore.” At least, not according to my goalie.

When she and her boyfriend had first started going out, they always met up places.

It wasn’t until they were official that she started riding shotgun in his car.

“Perhaps,” Da said. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’d like to meet the young man taking our daughter out tonight.”

I tried not to roll my eyes.

This will be so much easier with Connor next weekend , I thought.

They know Connor, and they love Connor.

We’ll laugh while Dad takes photos on the porch before we take off in the Jeep.

Something in me twinged.

It wasn’t that I didn’t want my parents to meet Davis.

I liked him a lot. We’d been texting pretty regularly, sending music recommendations back and forth, and then talking about school and stuff.

Part of me had been wondering why he hadn’t suggested we hang out again before JProm.

You could always suggest it , Meredith had said when I asked her opinion, which was fair.

I could. But I didn’t.

I’d been busy.

My dads dropped the subject of meeting Davis.

They weren’t going to push too hard on it, knowing that the last thing I’d do was text Davis to change our plans.

I didn’t want it to seem like I was bumming a ride.

I had the Defender and would make it to Princeton on my own.

Only I planned to leave the house wearing sneakers with my dress.

Driving stick in heels?

Hard pass. I’d change into them once I parked.

I checked my phone, wishing Da would speed up a little.

There was still plenty of time before I needed to get ready, but I always preferred having more time to less.

How are you doing your hair?

Amanda had texted in the bridesmaid chat.

Because I’m thinking Old Hollywood curls.

Or a classic chignon , Courtney wrote, which Paige immediately hearted.

(For whatever reason, I was beginning to think of Katie’s cousins as a set of twins.

Courtney-and-Paige.)

Just no braids, Mads , Reese texted.

Ladies, you do know she’s not your Barbie , Meredith said.

Right?

I smiled; Meredith hadn’t sent that message.

Her husband hijacked her phone every now and again.

I was actually more into American Girl dolls, Wit , Katie wrote, and ironically, a few beats after her text appeared, our car’s Bluetooth alerted us that we had an incoming call from Austin.

Dad tapped accept. “Hey, kid. What’s up?”

“Not much,” Austin said through the speakers.

“Just calling to see how the game went. Mads mentioned it was going to be a tough one…”

“Where are you?” I asked after recapping my game for him.

He’d whistled when I described my goal.

“I heard some police sirens.”

“Yeah, some moron in a Mustang has been driving like he’s in a car chase in downtown LA,” my brother said.

“Katie and I are on our way to spend the night at her house.”

My spine straightened.

Katie was with Austin?

Currently riding shotgun and listening to this call?

Without feeling the need to say hello?

“Her parents are making dinner and breaking out the board games,” Austin continued while Dad leaned over and whispered something to Da.

“I think Amanda’s bringing the guy she’s been seeing, too.”

His name was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Neil, right?” I said, trying to keep my tone light but not too light.

Everyone knew any airiness in my voice was code for sarcasm.

“Isn’t it Neil, Katie?”

There was a beat of silence, and then—miraculously—she spoke!

“Yes, it’s Neil.”

“Oh, Katie, hello!” Da exclaimed warmly, but Dad covered his mouth to keep from laughing.

“We didn’t know Austin had you on speaker!”

“He does,” she confirmed, and that was literally it.

She sounded like she was too busy searching for split ends to really talk to us.

I shifted in the back seat, uncomfortable and a little upset.

Things between Katie and me…

well, I guess they hadn’t really improved.

Her enthusiasm for Ready-Set-Date wasn’t translating to real life.

Austin didn’t seem to notice her disinterest. “So, Mads,” he said, “what time is Reese’s cousin swinging by to get you later?”

“He isn’t,” Dad said before I could.

“They’re ‘meeting up.’”

“Mmm,” Austin said, the flip of his blinker audible.

“Well, that is sort of how things are done now, Dad. Amanda has been going out with this Neil guy for”—he dropped off to consult with Katie (why couldn’t she just participate in the conversation?

!)—“three months, and he never picks her up. They always rendezvous.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Da said.

“Not to mention, a waste of gas,” Dad joked.

Austin chuckled. “Last time I checked, Dad, you weren’t exactly the paragon of environmental sustainability,” he said.

“Does Da still double-check that you recycle correctly?”

I groaned.

Dad’s recycling was never going to be up to par, but in his defense, Da had an absurdly specific system.

“Can we go back to talking about me, please?” I asked, ever the melodramatic me-me- me little sister.

“Of course,” Austin said.

“Because Dad and Da should be meeting your date, Mads. I get the whole not-picking-you-up thing, but—”

“Well, what do you want them to do?” I asked.

“Davis said our group got the last table at Ember now that they were engaged, it felt like Katie was yanking my brother away from us instead of gently tugging.

“Oh…well…” Austin said, obviously trying to pull something out of his ass.

“Just that Mads could probably ask Davis for a last-minute ride. He likes you, sis. He won’t say no.”

“Thanks,” I said, irked.

“But I’d like to have my own car, so I can come home when I want. I’ll introduce him to Dad and Da if it goes well.”

Then I leaned forward and disconnected the call.

Neither of my parents said anything.

“We know Davis is a great kid,” Dad said.

“I had lunch with Jim Dougherty on Tuesday. He wants to downsize to a townhouse.”

“And let me guess,” I said.

“Jim Dougherty is what? Their next-door neighbor?”

“Three houses down, actually,” he replied.

“What are the freaking odds,” I muttered.

“The point of preferring Davis to pick you up is not so we can turn into intimidating dads and ask about his intentions,” Dad said.

“We trust you.”

“I know you do,” I said, sighing.

“What is the point?”

“For you to be wooed, Madeline,” Da said.

“The point is for you to be wooed .”

***

I napped the rest of the way home (something told me freshly charged batteries were best for the dance floor) but woke up to a text from Austin: Hey, sorry about earlier.

I know you knew what I was going to propose (because you’re a certified genius)…

but so did Kates…and I had to go with her this time.

Tonight is supposed to be about Amanda introducing Neil to their parents.

She didn’t want hosting our family to steal her sister’s thunder.

I hope you get that.

Yeah, no worries , I said.

Have fun tonight .

No exclamations , he immediately wrote back.

You’re Mad Mads .

No, I’m not , I lied.

HAVE FUN TONIGHT!!!!

!!!!!!

YOU TOO!!!

!!!! he replied, and even though I was “Mad Mads” and still a little annoyed with him, I couldn’t help but laugh.