“Jesus, Bree. This is really damn stupid.” I look at her in her orange dress with the lily corsage on her wrist.
“It’s not stupid. Going to a baseball game was stupid. This . . .” she sighs and fixes the stupid-ass bow tie around my neck. “This is our last high-school experience together. And I think it could be fun.”
I quirk an eyebrow at her, shocked by this development. She’s never wanted to do anything considered a typical high-school experience, but when I told her about prom and Grayson asking me, apparently, she’s very into the idea. “I know what you’re doing.”
She shrugs. “So shut up and thank me.”
I smile and kiss her temple. Blair was beyond excited when Bree told her Fletcher, Bree, and I wanted to go to prom. Of course, Blair went beyond crazy, buying Bree jewelry, heels, a dress, and then taking her for a makeover today. She tried like hell to get Fletch and me to come too—for what, I’m still not sure--but we did allow her to pick out tuxes for us.
Fletch looks pretty good in a white tux and black tie with his hair styled. There wasn’t a girl in the gym who didn’t salivate when they saw him tonight. In fact, I think the entire school was staring in stunned shock at the three of us when we walked in.
And it wasn’t my imagination. Bree and Fletcher felt it too. “Jesus, should we have made a formal announcement that we’d be here tonight or something?” Bree asks, making Fletch and me laugh. We both have our arms linked with one of hers and guide her in.
“This was your idea, Bree Bree,” I say as I search for Grayson.
“This was your boyfriend’s idea, Rhetty,” she whispers, leaning in next to my ear, and I laugh, liking entirely too much the sound of the term “boyfriend” being applied to Grayson.
I can’t.
I need to stop doing that.
I see him across the room, his eyes over here, but he’s busy dancing with a girl from our class. Crystal, I think is her name. Her hands are all over him, sliding over his back and up his broad shoulders as he keeps his hands on her hips. His eyes meet mine, and I see them light up with surprise, but he doesn’t stop dancing with her.
Which . . . duh. Of course, he doesn’t. He’s here with her. He needs everyone in his friend group to think that, I’m sure.
I sit down at one of the tables decorated in some ridiculous theme I don’t get, suddenly feeling defeated and stupid. Bree sits down next to me as Fletch says something about saying hi to a girl he knows.
I don’t even point out that he probably only “knew” her for a few seconds or will, if he hasn’t already hooked up with her. He leaves, and Bree nudges my foot under the table with one of her high heels. “What’s wrong?”
“This is stupid. I told you that already, Bree. I don’t fit in here, and he’s . . .” I motion to where he’s busy in his big group of friends, his hands still on Crystal. “He’s having fun. He’s fine here without me.”
“You’re being an idiot again,” she says in true Bree fashion.
“How?”
She sighs softly, shaking her head at me and propping her elbow on the table, resting her head on her hand. “Rhett, you guys agreed not to tell anyone. You told him you weren’t coming. What do you want him to do? Rush over here and sweep you up? Say, ‘fuck it all’？”
Kind of. Which yes, I know it’s stupid because I’m the one who’s been totally fine with him not telling anyone. But now, as I watch Crystal smooth a hand over his cheek, I feel rage bubble up inside me which I don’t understand. “No.” I shake my head. “It’s stupid. This is stupid. I shouldn’t be here.”
Her face softens as she offers me a smile. “I can’t imagine how hard it is to have all types of feelings and not be able to tell everyone.” She purses her lips, deep in thought and then laughs softly. “Well, I mean, I guess I kind of know how that feels.”
“Bree . . .” I feel a pang of guilt about our whole thing, but she shakes her head.
“But it’s not the same because I know you both have feelings for each other, and not being able to share that has to suck.”
“He’s leaving at the end of the summer.”
“But that doesn’t mean you don’t have feelings for him. Don’t do that. Don’t push away your feelings.”
I want to laugh because that’s what I’ve been doing my whole life. “I’m good at it.”
She sits up and grabs my hand. “Not as good as you think.” She looks over her shoulder at Grayson and his friends. “And I know you’re hurting. We can leave if you want, but you’re here to show him you care.”
She turns back, and my eyes meet hers. “How do I do that when I can’t be with him?”
“By being here.”
I nod, still feeling shitty about the whole situation. Hating his parents and his friends and every goddamn thing that keeps us apart. I also hate that Bree is right, and I’m a dumbass falling for him.
Or okay—having already fallen for him—because when I’m on the dancefloor with Bree, and I look over at Grayson with Crystal’s arms around his neck, leaning into him, watching her feel his big body against hers, I can barely breathe through my jealousy.
I can’t focus on anything but her hands on him and the fact that everyone looks at them and sees a couple. They look at Grayson and see the façade. They see the rich-boy jock who’s straight and taking her to the afterparty.
They don’t know that he loves to draw and swim. That he’s kind and compassionate. That he volunteers with kids after school. And instead of soft curves, he prefers hard muscle.
They don’t know he’s had his lips on every inch of my body, and I loved every single second of it. And suddenly, it’s all too damn much. I apologize to Bree and dart out of the gym, trying like hell to catch my breath.
This isn’t me. I don’t get attached. I don’t feel possessive. I don’t want to go and tear a girl’s hands off my man’s body. But I can’t think straight right now as I walk into the hallway and down the bay of lockers.
I hear footsteps behind me, but I’m lost in this fog. Of fucking course, the one time I actually have an insane attraction to someone, it’s to someone totally unavailable.
“Rhett?” Grayson’s voice wavers with worry, and I turn around to take him in—all his handsome glory on full display in his snug tux.
“Go away.”
“No.” He walks closer to me. “I thought you didn’t do prom.”
“I don’t.” I point at him. “I do you.”
Neither of us laugh at the double meaning because nothing seems funny right now. I’m pissed off. I’m frustrated that I can’t tell everyone we’re together. “What do you want from me, Rhett? Tell me.”
I laugh, but it’s humorless. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He walks closer, his eyes searching mine. “Tell me.”
“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you.”
The toes of his shoes touch mine. He’s breathing heavy, and so am I. “Tell me.”