chapter 37 - prom

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Talia:

How many hours does it take to get ready for prom?

If you asked me yesterday how long it would take, I would guess two. Hair, makeup, getting dressed—that didn't seem like too many things on the list.

Today, I will tell you my estimate is extremely low. Like, four hours less that it actually is.

Hour six into Project Prom, as Quinn likes to call it, I feel ready to rip my hair out. For the past hour—and counting—Quinn has glued me to a chair to fix my hair up all pretty, so ripping it out is completely out of the question. Darn.

Jess, Quinn, and I have been huddled in my room for so long, I think we have run out of oxygen to breathe. My best friend refuses to open the window to allow fresh air in, insisting how one small breeze can ruin hours of hard work.

This morning at ten AM, I was awakened by Jessica violently shaking me awake. Then, a brand new razor was shoved in my face.

"Shave every hair below your head," she had stated in a very serious tone. Jess then handed me a large can of shaving cream. "Here. Remember, down, not up, when you hit that part of your body. Spread your cheeks if you must! You need to be smooth, Lia. I'm a feminist in all ways, but prom night is an exception!"

It was the most horrified I have ever been in my life.

Thirty minutes after the disturbing demands from my sister, I stepped out of the shower; everything below the neck was smooth. I planned on doing it all anyways. I doubt Grayson would care very much about the level of hair on my body, but it was a personal choice for me to keep things hairless for wherever the night would lead us.

"Hold your head still!" Quinn now squeals from above me. I tried turning my head to get a better look of my hair in the mirror, which I'm apparently not allowed to do. I'm impatient.

"Sorry," I mumble, Quinn returning to curling the remaining strands of my hair.

More than half of my hair cascades down my back in soft curls that Quinn managed to form without using hairspray. That alone will make tonight much easier. That is if anything happens between myself and Grayson. Other strands of my hair sweep up and are pinned at the back of my head in some kind of half-up, half-down look. A whole container of bobby pins with little fake pearls at the end of them sit on my desk, ready to be arranged in my hairdo.

Jessica sits on the floor as she paints her toenails dark purple, sticking her tongue out in concentration. "I hate how small my toenails are. It makes them impossible to paint."

Quinn giggles. "Would you rather have large toes, then? Extra fat to make painting the nails easier?"

"No," Jess huffs, a strand of her already arranged hair blowing upwards. "Never mind, I guess my toes are fine."

I laugh, which earns me another, "Stop moving!" from Quinn. "I'm almost done, anyways," she adds in a sweet voice.

Good, then I can finally pick up my phone from across the room that has been dinging nonstop for the past hour. I have one guess who the texts are from.

The pins scrape my scalp as Quinn slides them in, and I nearly shriek from how tight they are. I release a breath of relief when she tells me she's done. Finally.

I grab my phone and open the message thread.

Mama Bear Grayson: "Which color tie goes best with your dress? I bought both, but I need your help."

He sent a picture of two ties side-by-side, both of them practically the same color. I think about responding, but then realize there's more messages from him.

Mama Bear Grayson: "Answer me, daisy."

"Please," he added after a minute.

"You're killing me by not responding."

"Daisy?"

"Baby?"

Missed phone call from: "Mama Bear Grayson."

Wow, he's taking the tie very seriously. I send him back text telling him the right tie is best. Not even ten seconds later he replies:

Mama Bear Grayson: "Thank you. I can't wait to see you. I miss you."

My heart flutters and a smile twitches at my lips. I tell him that I miss him, too. And if I'm being perfectly honest, I can't wait to see him as well. Most importantly, I can't way to see him in a suit. My man in a suit—what more could I need?

"You need makeup!" Jess finishes painting her nails and shouts across the room at me. I try not to feel offended by her words.

"We have one hour, ladies!" Jessica commands from the center of the room. Quinn nods along, solely focused on the task of being glammed up for prom. "Let's finish strong!"

Oddly motivated by her words, I sit myself back down at my desk and apply makeup: some brown and gold eyeshadow, a light amount of blush, and a rosy-pink lipstick completes my look.

Now all that's left to do is dress and meet up with the group for a photo shoot that Jake—of all people—insisted upon having.

Then the night will begin.

***

"You girls look beautiful, by the way," my dad says when we stand in the parking lot of a breathtaking meadow to take photos. The rest of the crew has yet to arrive. "All grown up into young ladies before I could blink," he adds, a sad tone woven through his voice.

The three of us give our thanks and smile at him.

My mother, to no surprise, could not be bothered to make an appearance today. In fact, my parents are getting divorced. We had the family talk two nights ago, and it was probably the strangest thing I've experienced. Both of my parents didn't shed one ounce of sadness over the turn of events concerning their marriage. When my mother left for the night to return to the hotel she was staying at, my dad simply asked if Jess and I wanted to watch a movie. We agreed, wondering if everything was really okay with him. He assured us he was. He said he couldn't be with her when she refused to believe her own daughter.

Two cars pull in next to us and my stomach summersaults. He's here.

Actually...No, he's not.

Out of the first car steps Grayson's parents and Vivian, his sister still very much pregnant. Rowan and Katie exit the other vehicle. Jake and my boyfriend are no where to be found.

Katie reads my expression of confusion and slowly makes her way to me. Slowly, because she's wearing four inch heals along with a champagne colored dress. Rowan must have convinced her to be his date after complaining how reluctant she was to go to a high school prom as a college student.

"Jake, his date, and Gray had to drive separately," she explains. "And then Jake forgot his phone and they had to drive back."

"Gray was a little mad on the phone, so be warned." Rowan slides next to Katie and touches a hand to her back. I find it funny how both Grayson and I have best friends who are dating a sibling.

"Grump," I mutter.

Katie and Rowan laugh while I look at Grayson's parents meeting my dad for the first time. They fall into a conversation easily, my dad congratulating them on Grayson going to Duke University next year. I turn back my attention to the couple in front of me, remembering a question.

"Who is Jake bringing as a date?" I ask. "I thought he was complaining about being all alone last week."

Rowan shakes his head, a mischievous smile forming on his face. "Oh, just you wait. It's someone you wouldn't expect."

Just as he says that, Grayson's black Audi whips into the parking lot. First, Jake steps out and waves both of his arms at us in an enthusiastic manner. Then, his date climbs out. I squint my eyes and do a double take.

"You're kidding?" I ask Rowan, my eyes widening.

He releases a short laugh. "Nope."

"I...I didn't know he was—"

"Jake's pansexual," Rowan clarifies before I use the wrong term. "He even did that thing where he thought the sexuality meant he was attracted to pans. He doesn't really talk about it much, but he likes anyone who will make him laugh and have a good time. Hence..."

He waves off in the direction of Jake and his date, who is none other than Blake Anderson—the senior class clown.

I remember more than a month ago, Blake flat out flirted with me during art class and tried to get me to go to his house to "teach" him art. I didn't take the the flirting seriously—mostly because I know he loves to joke around with everyone about that kind of stuff—but Grayson got mad about Blake trying to pressure me. It was a day or two after everything with Carter, so it his behavior was understandable. Clearly, some things have changed since then. Clearly, Blake has found someone he doesn't feel like fake flirting with.

Jake and Blake. At least it has a nice ring to it.

Jake practically skips towards us, dragging along his date. "We made it without Graysie-boy killing us!" He exclaims excitedly. Blake laughs along with him.

I peak around Jake's body at the exact time Grayson is turned away from me. Bummer. All I get is a glimpse of his back. His ass looks good in his pants. Mmm.

As if drawing me in—him, not specifically his ass—I step around the huddle of couples and move to my own. We lock eyes when we're about ten feet away. His eyes don't stay on mine very long, instead trailing along my body and the dress I have displayed. I take my time to look at his own attire: a charcoal colored suit with the tie I helped him pick out. Like I said before—I love a man in a suit. Specifically when it's my man.

He shoves his hands in his pockets and tilts his head. Grayson's eyes find mine again and he displays a small smile.

"Turn," he says.

I do as he demands and lift up my dress by the skirt an inch off the ground so it doesn't drag, turning slowly, giving Grayson the time to look over the other details of the gown. By the time I fully rotate, he's much closer to me, only a foot or two away. I savor the way he watches me and the confidence I gain.

"You're beautiful," he says, low enough for it to be whisper. Grayson's right hand attaches to my waist, and he can't help himself as he leans back and checks me out all over again. The first five times must not have been enough. "So fucking beautiful."

My smile overpowers my face. I reach out and straighten his tie, just so I have something to do with my hands. He presses me closer to him from my waist. I look up at him and smile. Everything is right.

"You look very handsome, Grayson," I speak softly. His hand squeezes my waist and his throat hums as a response to my compliment. I stand up taller and pull him down to kiss his cheek.

He turns his head so the other, un-kissed cheek faces me. I hold in a laugh and comply to his silent request, pressing my lips to that side. His next move is anticipated, and I almost beat him to it, but he's quicker. He captures my lips with his own and kisses me slowly, tortuously. We tilt our heads in sync, allowing us to get deeper access and be swept away by the sensation. Grayson's hand has a mind of its own, and travels inches below my waist—

"Gross!"

We break apart and my face flushes pink.

Katie and Jessica stare at us with horrified expressions, probably upset about witnessing their sibling make-out with someone. I would honestly feel the same way if I had to witness Jess getting cozy with Quinn.

"Get a room, dumbass," I hear Vivian shout from across the field, cupping a hand to amplify her voice. I guess everyone saw what Grayson and I did; except, thankfully, our parents, who are turned away from our group. That would have made me embarrassed beyond belief.

"Language," Grayson's dad says to Vivian. She gives him an face that reads, who me?

I laugh and then turn back to Grayson. He holds out a corsage made up of white flowers, and I notice most have a small yellow center.
Daisies. Grayson got me a corsage arranged with daisies.

"Is that for me?" I manage to say, even though it's obvious who it is for. I decide it is better to ask a stupid question than crying in front of everyone.

He nods his head and the corner of his lip twitches upwards. Besides those movements, his expression is indecipherable and blank. Grayson reaches out his hand and picks up my own by the wrist. He ties the accessory where it belongs. The flowers now adorn my wrist, held there with a green ribbon—the exact color of my eyes, dress, and Grayson's tie. Everything is harmonious.

I love him.

"All right," his mom then says, calling out to all of us and moving closer. "Let's get some pictures so you all can leave. Line up and do the cute little couple pose."

This is not our first prom rodeo, so we all know what the cute little couple pose looks like—one partner holding the other from behind, nice and close.

Grayson brings me in front of him and holds me just as he's meant to. I turn my head up towards him, his eyes on mine while a smile lights up his face. I can't help but smile back as I touch his arm that's around my waist, trailing my hands across until they rest on top of his hands. My fingers brush his knuckles repeatedly in a featherlight motion and I look forward again.

A hum sounds and he leans closer, lips by my ear. "If you keep doing that, I'll have to make an excuse for us to leave and we'll need to find some place private."

Why am I tempted to keep touching him like that? Maybe it's because I'm curious of what would happen if I used my hands to brush other parts of his skin. But that's a task for later, not now. I straighten my back and unknowingly rub myself body into him. Into something somewhat hard.

The groan that emits lowly from his throat gives me a good enough guess as to what I rubbed into. One of his hands squeezes my waist. "You're killing me, Talia," Grayson whispers, his voice strained.

"Sorry," I say, squeakier than intended.

He must notice my mixture of embarrassment and guilt, because his thumb gently strokes the skin he just squeezed. Grayson presses a kiss below my ear, and says, "It's okay. You can make it up to me later."

There's no time for me to enjoy the feeling of his warm breath blowing against that sensitive spot as he pulls away from me. If I could imagine his facial expression, I would be confident in saying he looks smug.

"All right, on three...," Grayson's mom dictates. Her and my dad hold up their cameras. "One, two—"

"Grayson William Summers!" Grayson's dad suddenly shouts out to us. "Stop staring at Talia and look at the camera!"

Everyone in the prom group turns and looks at Grayson, who, sure enough, is staring at me with a soft smile. What he could possibly thinking about is beyond me. A few laughs echo around us when Grayson makes no sign of returning to reality.

"Hi," I say to him.

His eye lids droop slightly and his smile turns up, far more than I think he would of allowed himself to do in public. Why the Hell is he turning all soft? Just a moment ago, he was sexually suggesting I would make it up to him later.

"Hey," he replies.

I can't help but smile, despite his sudden change in mood. "You need to look forward." I point at the camera. "I'll still be here, don't worry."

The way he hesitates makes me think he doesn't quite believe me. I lace my hand through his at my front and give it a squeeze. That seems to wake him up.

"It's last year all over again," I hear Vivian mutter.

What happened last year? I went to prom with Carter last year. Wore a red dress. Took pictures. I also took pictures with his past friends, which happened to include Grayson, Rowan, and Jake. So it was a group picture with all of us, the one that I remember seeing in the yearbook when I happened to be at Grayson's house.

It's last year all over again. 

Was Grayson staring at me in the photo last year? I try my best to conjure the image and my head. Faint recollections of him not exactly looking in the direction of the camera appear. Based on Vivian's words, he must have been looking at me, or something else. My guess is on the former. But why? I had barely even spoken to him at that point, let alone had a full conversation. We were essentially strangers. This is too much for me to think about when I should focus on taking this photo.

My boyfriend shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts, and finally looks at the camera. "Okay," is all he says.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes at whatever just occurred, but find it more difficult to suppress a smile than anything.

"Smile, everyone!"

I smile as brightly as I can while leaning back into Grayson, finding comfort in the way he is there to support me. Cameras flash in front of us, and all I can think about is how happy I am that these moments will be remembered forever, even without the help of a photograph.

***

"It's fucking loud in here," Grayson says, leaning down to my ear from behind me.

The beats of the music vibrate through my body and leave me feeling more buzzed than before. My boyfriend stands stiff beside me, negatively affected by the volume of the song.

I bump my hip into his leg, which he then takes as an offering to hold my waist. "You'll get used to it."

The rest of our groupie flows into the venue, Jake already dancing to the music. Quinn has the same mindset, and immediately drags a reluctant Jess onto the dance floor to join the crowd of students. Jake and Blake take that as cue to run off with them, leaving behind Rowan and Katie.

"I can't believe I let you drag me to this thing," Katie says to Rowan, her face one of annoyance. "I'm now reminded how much I hate seeing people grind on each other."

Rowan throws a casual arm across her shoulder as she scowls at the teenagers. "So does that mean you all over me is out of the question for tonight?"

Katie smirks, considering the question.

"Can you two not talk about that in front of me?" Grayson asks. I look up at him and his present glare at the couple. His sister, specifically.

She rolls her eyes. "Deal with it, shithead." She gestures between us and where we're attached at the hip. "I have to see you two get mushy and feely all of the time."

He glares at her. "We do not do it that often—"

"Your hand is literally on Lia's ass, right now!" Katie quickly retorts, pointing at us.

I didn't even notice Grayson's hand traveling down further from my waist. It's right on the first curve of my bottom, getting familiar with that part of my body. I roll my eyes.

"Just keep your eyes up and you'll be fine," Grayson states dismissively. The conversation is over just as he wished when Katie drags Rowan away to the drinks with a cold look at her brother. It seems as if those stares run in the family.

Once they're gone, Grayson places a small pat on my ass, causing me to emit a squeak of surprise. I send my own cold look up at him. "Don't do that," I say in an insincere tone. I liked it, just not in public surrounded by my peers.

"Why?" He says, moving his lips down to my ear to whisper. "Do you want me to slap your ass harder?"

My eyes widen and I push his hand off of me. An accusing finger from me points at him. He smiles

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