Page 9

Nine

I was relieved when Davis suggested that we meet at Hun before heading into Princeton for dinner; it meant I wouldn’t need to navigate town on a Saturday night.

“Cool car!” a guy in a black suit called after I’d parked the Defender and quickly swapped out my Stan Smiths for heels.

He stood next to Davis, who greeted me with a hug.

“You look beautiful.” He smiled.

“Thank you.” I smiled back.

The bridesmaids had let me make the executive decision, but Katie highly encouraged me to pick a strapless navy silk dress covered with light blue and yellow roses.

“You look great, too,” I added, touching the lapel of Davis’s burgundy suit.

“Thanks,” he said, then put a hand on my back.

A thrill sparked up my spine.

This was my first date!

“Let me introduce you to everyone.” We walked over to the group hanging out by a blue Tesla.

“Guys, this is Mads!”

“Hey, I’m Evan,” the guy in the black suit said.

Davis had mentioned Evan in his texts.

They were best friends.

“And that seriously is a sweet ride. What year is it?”

“Nineteen ninety,” I said proudly.

“My grandfather taught me to drive in it.”

Evan’s date was named Rebecca, and then there were two other couples.

One girl—Natalie—seemed to be giving off a strange vibe, but when she noticed that I noticed, she dropped her pout.

“I like your earrings,” she said, pointing to my wavy gold hoops.

The bridesmaids couldn’t be thanked for my accessories.

All me.

Hun’s JProm apparently wasn’t as much of a big deal as it was at my school.

I was a little surprised that we weren’t taking any pre-prom pictures like Connor and I would next weekend poolside in Erin Magee’s backyard.

Tonight’s dance also wasn’t at an off-campus venue.

“It’s always in the senior dining hall,” Rebecca informed me as we piled into Natalie’s white Range Rover, but with Davis behind the wheel.

“They closed it for lunch today so they could transform the place…”

No one really spoke to me on the way to Princeton proper; instead, they fought over who should DJ, and once Rebecca was chosen, it became all about booing her playlist. She was, it seemed, pro-Pitbull.

I felt my phone buzz while Davis circled town for parking—I’d silenced all alerts from the bridesmaid chat, but was happy to see a text from Connor: How’s it going so far?

Fine , I typed back.

They seem nice, but nobody’s really talked to me yet .

Bet that’s because they’re close friends and aren’t used to newcomers , he wrote.

It’ll get better at dinner.

Just be yourself!

Such original advice , I messaged, resisting the urge to ask what he was up to tonight.

Texting with Connor always made me feel less nervous about things, but it also distracted me.

I had to be present; I had to be here.

I didn’t want Davis to think I wasn’t interested.

Ember she’d graduated from Cornell a couple years ago with a degree in hospitality.

According to Dad, she’d spent a year proving her skills at Two Fish, one of the álvarez family’s smaller restaurants—they had the best brunch—before her parents promoted her to front of house at Ember he’s worldly; he buys me expensive jewelry and top-of-the-line field hockey sticks…

“Her brother,” I said.

“We went to school together. He was a couple years ahead of me.”

Carina seated us and menus were circulated.

“Your server will be over momentarily,” she said, then to me: “Please tell Austin and Katie congratulations!”

“Who are Austin and Katie?” Natalie asked once Carina had disappeared.

She and her date—Ben?

Brett? Brent?—were sitting directly across from Davis and me.

Ben/Brett/Brent was studying the menu like the rest of our table, but Natalie hadn’t picked hers up yet.

Learning my life story had apparently skyrocketed on her priority list.

“Austin’s my older brother and Katie is his fiancée,” I said.

“Ember Davis’s friend group started getting to know me after we ordered.

Evan opened with, “So Davis told us you’re a field hockey superstar?”

It turned out Rebecca played lacrosse, so we talked all about the college recruiting process before I answered questions about school and hobbies and stuff.

“I can’t believe you don’t play an instrument.” Ben/Brett/Brent shook his head, chuckling.

“Davis has never dated anyone who wasn’t musical.”

I laughed a little, but before I could say anything, Natalie snorted.

“Oh, come on. They aren’t dating . This”—she gestured between Davis and me—“is a cute little stunt.”

“Uh, excuse me?” My brows knitted together as the table fell silent.

“Stunt?”

Natalie waited until after our appetizers were served to explain.

“Yeah, a stunt. Davis isn’t really interested in you, Madeline. The only reason you’re here tonight is so he can make his ex jealous.”

Something in my stomach curdled even though the only milk I’d had today was in my cereal for breakfast. That’s right, I remembered.

Davis had a somewhat still recent ex-girlfriend.

He’d told me at Crescent Moon Coffee, but it hadn’t come up since.

I had forgotten about her.

Her , who was so clearly Natalie .

It all made sense now.

Natalie not being thrilled to meet me earlier, and then Davis driving Natalie’s car into town and Natalie using Davis’s name for our reservation—they were probably old habits that they couldn’t yet kick.

The realization felt like a field hockey ball to the ankle, sudden and sharp.

Under the table, Davis put a hand on my knee.

“It’s not…” he murmured, but I ignored him.

Instead, I leaned forward in my chair and eyed Natalie.

“Well, is it working? Are you jealous?”

Next to her, Ben/Brett/Brent was probably comprehending that he too was here to make someone jealous.

“Damn, girl…” Evan said from farther down the table, as I kept staring Natalie down.

My heart was hammering in my chest, but no one needed to know that.

It wasn’t until I caught her lip just barely tremble and she blinked that I pushed back my chair.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom,” I said, and patted Davis’s shoulder—a gesture that I hoped conveyed something along the lines of We need to talk , but also Don’t follow me .

I didn’t want to think about what the table was saying about me once I’d weaved my way to the back of the restaurant (because I sure as hell knew they were saying something ).

“Sorry!” I exclaimed when I almost bumped into a server carrying a tray of cocktails, and then immediately afterward dodged a pair of busboys with full bins.

They pushed through the kitchen doors together without so much as a glance at me.

The doors not only swept open wide enough for me to see all the behind-the-scenes action, but also what I thought was a total hallucination: Marco álvarez and three other guys enjoying a steak dinner at a fully set table.

White linens, silverware, glassware, everything.

They were even wearing blue blazers.

What the fuck? I wondered, and because I knew no boundaries and didn’t actually need to go to the bathroom, my high heels and I marched into the kitchen to see what was happening.

“Hey, miss, you can’t—” someone started, but all the clanging, clattering, and bellowed kitchen jargon (with plenty of profanity peppered in) made it impossible to hear.

Especially when I was still stalking toward Marco’s table, trying not to laugh.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” I asked.

Marco swallowed a bite of his filet.

“Did Carina put you up to this?” He took a sip of his water and smiled.

“Because I did promise I would come out and say hi…”

“Why are you eating dinner in the kitchen?” I asked.

He gave me a confused look.

“Because the kitchen is where one eats dinner?”

“Not at restaurants.” I shook my head.

“At restaurants, you eat in the dining room . Only the Mafia eats in the…” I trailed off and gave his buddies a look.

“Don’t tell me you guys are cosplaying mobsters?”

It turned out I possessed the power to make Princeton men blush.

“Of course not,” one said.

“We’re not properly outfitted in pinstripes.”

“But the food at Tower sucked tonight,” a second one confessed.

“And the line for Hoagie Haven was going on two blocks,” the third sighed.

“Plus, the dining room is fully booked,” Marco said, then shrugged.

“Although the ambiance in here is much more pleasing.” He gestured around at all the kitchen excitement.

“As you can clearly deduce—”

“Are you fucking serious?!” someone somewhere shouted.

“The tab clearly says Table Eight has a shellfish allergy! In all capitals!”

“Yes,” I said dryly as his friends chuckled.

“Nothing beats dinner and a show.”

Marco’s lips twitched in amusement.

“How’s it going out there?”

“Well, I’m currently in here ,” I told him.

“So how do you think?”

“I thought you maybe wanted to briefly exchange pleasantries,” he said, keeping his voice light.

I rolled my eyes.

In response, Marco tugged one of the empty chairs away from the table and gestured for me to sit.

I did, less than gracefully because of my semi-formalwear.

“What’s happening?”

“Um…” I hesitated, glancing at his friends.

They didn’t look fazed in the least. What did they know?

Nothing? Something? Everything?

“Carina said you looked excited earlier,” one of the guys said.

“You wouldn’t stop smiling at…” He paused.

“David?”

“Davis,” I corrected, turning to include the whole table in the conversation.

They obviously knew I was here on a date.

“And I was excited—super excited—but that was before I found out that his ex-girlfriend was dining with us!”

If I were with the bridesmaids, they would’ve gasped, but the Princetonians simply absorbed tonight’s plot twist with calm and casual nods.

It was a bit disappointing, to be honest.

“What are your names?” I asked.

“Simon,” said one.

“Zach,” the second answered.

“Timothy Hobson-Kirby the fourth,” proclaimed the third.

Marco chuckled. “Tim, you’re such a pretentious prick.”

“Make sure that goes on my headstone, Marco,” Timothy Hobson-Kirby IV joked.

I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mads.”

“We know,” Simon and Zach said simultaneously, so I assumed Carina had mentioned my name.

“Okay, so his ex?” Timothy Hobson-Kirby IV looked unimpressed.

“Really?”

“Yes,” I said.

“He mentioned her when we first met, but it sounded like he was pretty much over it, so I completely spaced.”

“It doesn’t matter if you spaced,” Marco said as a Coke was set down in front of me.

I took a grateful sip, wondering how and when he’d ordered it.

“What matters is that Davis didn’t tell you she was part of tonight’s group. You deserved to know that.”

“ Especially if there’s still shit between them,” Timothy Hobson-Kirby IV added.

“How’d you find out?”

I told them.

“Ah, I’ve encountered several Natalies in my day,” Zach wistfully said, Simon elbowing him in the ribs.

“I’m sorry, Mads.”

“She’s probably not a raging bitch,” I backtracked (because I had called Natalie one).

“Davis is a nice guy. He wouldn’t have dated someone like that.”

“He might’ve,” Zach said while a server delivered five ramekins of crème br?lée, caramelized to perfection.

“Nice guys can still have questionable taste.”

Yeah , I thought.

Like my brother…

Marco cracked his dessert’s burnt-sugar shell with a spoon.

“I don’t like that he didn’t give you a heads-up, Mads. It kind of proves Natalie’s point that you’re a prop, not a date. He might like you, but…” He shook his head.

A lump formed in my throat.

“They took pre-prom pictures without me,” I said, it suddenly dawning on me.

“I met them in Hun’s student parking lot, but we took approximately zero pictures together. I bet they did it earlier, at Natalie’s house or something. That way there would be no record of me.”

The Princetonians considered.

“Well, your generation does document everything on social media,” Simon mused.

My eyebrows knitted together.

My generation? These guys were only two years older than me.

“Simon has read This Side of Paradise too many times,” Marco whispered to me.

“He acts like it’s 1914 and we’re in the same English class as F. Scott Fitzgerald.”

Simon continued.

“And Natalie’s house does fit the narrative…”

Zach swallowed some crème br?lée.

“Si, shut up.”

I sighed.

“I guess I should get back out there.”

“Do you want to get back out there?” Marco asked as I heaved myself out of my chair.

I’d let myself sulk until I left the kitchen.

“I saw you ordered the swordfish, Mads, and while it’s spectacular , I’m not sure it’s really worth it.”

No , I thought a couple minutes later, when I awkwardly rejoined the table.

Everyone went silent.

If this is going to be the rest of my night, it’s not worth it.

Ben/Brett/Brent agreed, as he’d seemingly bailed while I’d been gone.

His chair was empty.

But I put on a face for the rest of dinner and pretended like everything was fine.

Nobody spoke directly to me, but I listened along to the conversation and laughed at jokes cracked.

“Can we talk?” Davis asked more than once, his leg bouncing under the table.

The frantic movement heightened my heart rate.

“You bet,” I whispered.

“Just not now.”

“When?” he whispered back.

“Later,” I swallowed, having an uncomfortable inkling that Natalie was doing her damnedest to eavesdrop on us.

“Before the dance.”

***

You could see lights flashing from the senior dining hall’s floor-to-ceiling windows as soon as Davis pulled Natalie’s car back into the now-packed parking lot.

There were no open spots to be had, so he created his own, pulling onto the grassy field near a few other creatively thinking drivers.

“We’ll see you in there!” Evan and Rebecca called, fingers lacing together as they speed walked toward the dance.

The other couple followed suit, and Natalie after them.

Reluctantly, I could tell, but still.

She was generous enough to leave Davis and me alone to chat.

“I’m so sorry, Mads,” he blurted.

“I should’ve told you that Natalie would be part of the group tonight. Evan said I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark, but I didn’t listen. I thought everything would be chill; I never thought she would call you out like that.”

“Well, she did,” I said, folding my arms over my chest. A breeze had swept up, and I didn’t have a jacket.

I felt stupid for thinking Davis might offer me his later.

“I don’t know how long you were together or who broke up with who, but she still loves you, Davis.” I took a breath.

“She’s still in love with you, and you brought another girl to an event she always imagined you’d be attending together. How could she not act like a witch?”

Davis tucked his hands into his pockets, then muttered, “I think she was a little worse than a witch.”

I tilted my head as if to say, Of course she was worse than a witch!

“But I think she’s right,” I forced myself to say, a sharp sting in my chest. Tonight had totally unraveled—I wished I could trick myself into thinking coffee with Davis had been a real date.

I wanted to look back on my first date fondly, and tonight had been terrible.

“I think you invited me to shake her,” I continued.

“To either shake her off for good or to shake some sense into her.”

Davis was quiet, and when he did speak, I barely heard him over my thudding heart.

“I do like you, Mads. I really like you.”

“I like you, too.” My voice wavered.

“Way more than I thought I would, but you’re still in love with somebody else, and I’m not cool with being used as a strategy to get that somebody back. You should’ve been honest with me from the start.”

“Yes, I should’ve.” He exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

I tried rubbing the goose bumps from my arms. It was really getting chilly.

“It’s okay.”

Davis nodded, then gestured to the dining hall.

“Do you want to head in?”

“You should, yeah,” I said before pointing in the opposite direction, toward my car.

“I’m gonna take off.”

“Mads, don’t,” he protested once I started walking.

He took three large steps to catch up with me.

“I know I messed up, but we’ll still have a great time as friends. I’d really like to be friends.”

“I would, too,” I told him truthfully, because we did have so much in common and I liked talking to him.

“Just not on this particular night.” I clapped him on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Get in there, have fun with your friends, and ask Natalie to dance if that’s what you want to do. But I’m going home.”

I smiled a goodbye.

***

By midnight, I was under my covers with Francine sprawled out across my bed.

Almost all the bridesmaids had texted to ask how the night went.

She’s not gonna answer you, Yaz , Reese wrote.

JProm always has an after-party!

Davis must not have texted her , I thought as I tapped out of the chat and into my chat with Austin.

He’d asked how the evening had gone, too.

Private school is overrated , I typed in response.

Not even ten seconds later, the bridesmaid chat buzzed with a new message from freaking Katie: Sources suggest Davis did not receive a rose .

“Oh, how you irk me, Katherine Marie Gallant,” I muttered, though I was fighting a slight smile.

Katie was pretty witty in this group chat.

“How you irk me so…”

Text bubble after text bubble soon popped, including one from Meredith.

It was funny like Katie’s: Mads Fisher-Michaels’s rep has yet to confirm.

I giggled and snuggled deeper into my pillows.

But before Francine’s even breathing lulled me to sleep, I circled back to one more text thread.

You want to watch a movie later?

I’d texted Connor before pulling out of Hun’s parking lot.

I’ll bring snacks!

Tempting…

he’d replied. Is Hun’s JProm THAT bad?

Eyes welling up with tears, I called him instead of texting back.

“I’m bailing on the dance,” I said as soon as Connor answered.

Music and voices mingled in the background.

He was out somewhere.

“Ready for a rant?”

“Popcorn’s already popped,” Connor said.

I told him everything but made sure to add that Davis wasn’t really a bad guy, that he apologized, and that I even thought we’d be friends someday.

“But this night sucks ,” I concluded.

“A raging dumpster fire…”

Drive safely , he messaged after we’d hung up.

Text me when you get home.

Twenty-five minutes later, I wrote, Home!

Connor had immediately hearted the message, but I didn’t expect him to respond beyond that—he was hanging with friends at Lauren Bitterman’s house.

So it’d been a surprise when he texted: Same!

I’ll be over with a fire extinguisher in five.

Let’s save the night with Top Gun?

Now, after a Top Gun and Top Gun: Maverick double feature, I read our messages one more time before locking my phone and closing my eyes.

My heart warmed. Connor had showed up for me before, but tonight had been different. Hadn’t it?