Love You More(10)

— A few days later, Mick walked into Sugarbell with Maeve.

“Billie, this is Maeve,” he said. “Maeve, this is Billie.”

She was even cuter than I’d imagined—with a sparkly tutu, a sweet smile, and Mick’s wide blue eyes.

I came around the counter and crouched to her eye level. “It’s so nice to meet you in person, Maeve.”

She beamed back at me, tugging a pigtail loose. Mick tightened the elastic without missing a beat.

“Can you tell Billie it’s nice to meet her, too?”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she said, her voice raspy.

“I love your tutu,” I said, thinking that she reminded me of Fancy Nancy, wearing head-to-toe pink with lots of sparkles.

“I take ballet,” she announced, grabbing two fistfuls of tulle and twirling until Mick steadied her.

“That was impressive,” I said.

Maeve beamed back at me.

“And I bet I can guess your favorite color.”

“Pink,” she whispered with a reverent expression.

“Mine too.”

“Mickey’s favorite color is green.”

I looked up at him and smiled, then handed Maeve a bag for her candy, giving my usual spiel and quick tour of the bins behind the counter.

Her first stop was a bin of pink gummy worms, not the easiest thing to scoop. Mick bent down to help, then pulled back, letting her do it on her own. We followed Maeve from bin to bin until Mick told her she had enough.

“Can you tell Billie thank you?” Mick said as he paid at the cash register.

“Thank you, Billie,” Maeve said, hugging her bag of candy.

“You’re welcome. Come back soon.”

“We will,” Mick said, holding my gaze.

The bell over the door jingled as they left. I leaned against the counter, my pulse quick and uneven.



* * *



— That night, Erin came over for dinner. As we debriefed on the candy store visit, my phone rang. It was Mick. Erin grinned and slid closer, craning her neck to hear.

“Thanks for being so great with Maeve today,” he said.

“It was my pleasure. She’s a sweetheart.”

“She hasn’t shut up about you.”

“Me or her candy?” I asked with a laugh.

“You,” he said. “Definitely you.”

When I hung up, Erin grinned at me.

“Now tell me with a straight face that boy doesn’t like you.”

I smiled and shrugged.

“He’ll make his move soon,” she said. “I feel it in my bones.”



* * *



— Mick never made Erin’s predicted move, but as we cruised into junior year, our friendship felt warm, steadfast, and hopeful.

Then one night, out of the blue, Mick said, “What do you think of Kristy Keller?”

I could tell that he was asking for a reason, and it wasn’t a good one.

“She seems nice,” I said, bracing myself. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m thinking of asking her to Homecoming.”

My stomach dropped.

“You should,” I said, blinking back tears. “She’s…beautiful.”

“You think she’d say yes?” he asked.

“Only one way to find out,” I said.



* * *



— After we hung up, I buried my face in my pillow and ugly-cried.

Then I called Erin.

“Ugh, Billie!” she groaned. “Why would you encourage him?”

“What was I supposed to do? Beg him to ask me instead?”

“What if he was just testing you?”

“It wasn’t a test. And anyway—it’s too late now.”



* * *



— Homecoming night, my friends and I walked into the gym, all of us dateless by design. I smoothed my plain black dress and told myself to play it cool.

Then I saw him, standing by the punch bowl in a teal tie that matched Kristy’s low-cut sequined dress. They looked like something out of a magazine. His hand rested on the small of her back like it belonged there.

My breath hitched. Erin’s elbow dug into my ribs.

“Stop looking,” she hissed.

I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to meet her eyes.

“We’re not doing this tonight,” she said, her voice firm. “We came to have fun.”

So we danced. We spun under the lights, shrieked when the DJ played Britney, and belted out every word of “Livin’ la Vida Loca.” It was a good night—until the last song: Faith Hill’s “Breathe.” The lights dimmed. Couples swayed, arms tangled, heads tipped close. Across the floor, Mick pulled Kristy against his chest, her cheek pressed into his shoulder.

I froze, rooted to the floor, something splintering in my chest.

Without a word, Erin grabbed my hand, then our coats. She led me out into the freezing parking lot, wrapping her arm around me as we walked to her car.

“That flame will die fast,” she promised. “Lust never lasts.”

“Maybe not,” I said. “But that looked like love to me.”



* * *