“I didn’t mean to humiliate you, Maggie-Girl.” I knew he was feeling guilty, because he was using my pet name. “But Clay is a boy and you are my little girl. And from the sound of your voice, I get the feeling there’s a bit more than friendship going on there.”
I started to protest, then stopped. What was the point in lying about it?
My dad nodded knowingly. “So I think my stipulations are very reasonable. Clay is not allowed in your room when you are home alone. Are we clear?”
I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “Fine, whatever. It’s not like I’m seventeen years old, about to turn eighteen in four months. I’m almost an adult, Dad, and you treat me like a child,” I whined. I knew I sounded exactly like the child I tried to convince him I wasn’t. I was not making a very good argument.
“I don’t care if you’re a hundred and two. When you are living at home, you follow your mom’s and my rules. It’s just how it is. Now, this has never been a problem before, so what’s the issue now?” my father asked me pointedly, making it clear heknewwhat—orwho—the problem was, and his name started with aCand ended in aY.
I was nearly in tears. I had never really fought with my dad and it felt awful. But I knew something inside me was changing. I was sick of being treated like their little girl. I was finally becoming a woman, with the wants of a woman and the needs of a woman, and my parents were starting to cramp my style.
But I didn’t argue anymore. I just left the kitchen, went up to my room, and closed the door. I was proud of myself for not slamming it, like I wanted to. I threw myself on my bed, gathering the pillow to my chest and pushing my face into the fabric.
I could still smell Clay’s cologne and I felt a new wave of excitement. Those moments simply lying with him had been amazing. And it made me rethink so many of the caveats in our relationship. Because I wanted him, desperately, and I was pretty sure I was done with waiting.
Sure, the issues were still there, but maybe loving him would be the best way to help him. Yep, my mind was made up. I wanted Clayton Reed as my boyfriend. I loved him and I wouldn’t let my fears dictate my actions any longer. My parents and my inconsequential concerns be damned.
And if he went into the dark again, this time I would be there to find him—to follow him. Because I thought, perhaps quite immaturely, that my love could help him. Maybeourlove could do even more than just help—maybe it could heal him. Fix him. Fix everything.
“You look so amazingly awful!” Rachel squealed, making me turn around for the millionth time in my hideous Formal dress. I had teased my hair into an ’80s ’do, complete with the poofy bangs and frizzy curls. I did look pretty funny. But I was pleased to note that the dress was actually very formfitting and gave the illusion of some amazing curves. So, despite the nasty puff sleeves and horrible color, I didn’t look too bad.
Which was good, because I was ready to make my feelings for Clay known tonight. This was it—I was taking the plunge. Clay hadn’t been back in my house for the weeks leading up to the dance. He made a million excuses whenever I suggested he come inside after school. I knew my dad had freaked him out and Clay was trying to be respectful of his wishes. But unfortunately that meant we hadn’t been alone since falling asleep in my bed, and that sucked. Ruby had started taking the afternoons off at the shop, so we would end up hanging out in Clay’s living room, watching TV and doing our homework while Ruby plied us with new herbal-tea concoctions she was trying out.
I really loved his aunt and her girlfriend. They immediately made me feel welcome (unlike what my father did to Clay) and were very clear about how happy they were that Clay and I were spending time together. I could see the worry in Ruby’s eyes when she looked at her nephew. It was the same worry I felt underneath the anticipation that was building inside me whenever he and I were together.
The sexual tension was threatening to choke me, it had become so thick. Clay and I made every excuse to touch each other in seemingly platonic ways. Clay would brush the hair off my face. I would pick a piece of imaginary lint from his sleeve. It was a beautiful dance we were engaged in and the buildup was almost as delicious as what I imagined the real deal to be like.
“I can’t wait to see what the boys are wearing,” Rachel enthused. She looked fantastic in her bright-pink dress. She had pulled her dark-brown hair into a messy updo, with curls framing her face. If the way she looked tonight didn’t have Daniel tripping over his tongue, I didn’t know what would.
“Yeah, Clay was pretty cagey about his getup; it should be interesting,” I said, touching up my makeup. I was wearing more than I normally did, but I was pleased with the result. My brown eyes were rimmed in kohl, for a smudged, smoky look. My usually thin lips were painted an almost garish red, but I liked the way it made them look fuller. All in all, I didn’t look too bad.
“You look so pretty, Mags. Even in that eye-searing color,” Rachel said, putting her arm around my shoulders so we could stand together in front of my full-length mirror.
“Let’s do this. Daniel and Clay should be here any minute,” I said as Rachel grabbed her beaded purse. I leaned over to pick up my messenger bag and Rachel stopped me.
“Youare nottaking that thing. It ruins the look.” She went back to my closet and unearthed a black satin handbag that my mom had gotten me for prom last year. Rachel took my wallet, brush, and mints out of my bag and placed them in the much smaller purse.
“There, much better,” she said after I slung it over my shoulder. I just shook my head, not wanting to argue with her about it. We had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the doorbell rang.
My mother was there instantly. She must have been lying in wait for the guys, armed with her heavy-duty Nokia camera. I rolled my eyes at the thought of the next ten minutes of picture-taking hell.
“Well, hello, Daniel, Clay,” my mother said. She moved aside so they could come into the foyer. I covered my mouth with my hand trying not to crack up. They looked ridiculous. They had unknowingly worn similar suits, very dated formal wear. Daniel’s was maroon and Clay’s a horrendous plum. Each had a white tie and a robin’s-egg-blue shirt. It was a horrible combination. But they somehow made it work.
I took a moment to muse on how different they were, yet equally good-looking. Daniel had started to let his blond hair grow out and it looked almost unkempt around his face. His toned arms barely fit into the tight sleeves of the jacket. I heard Rachel’s barely-there sigh when she saw him.
Now, Clay was truly gorgeous. Even in the horrible suit, he looked handsome. His hair too was growing out into those curls I loved and they hung just above his eyes. He seemed excited; buoyant, even. His energy was apparent as he took my arm and placed my hand in the crook of his elbow.
“My lady. You are a vision,” he said, looking me up and down.
I elbowed him and laughed. “And you, sir, look dazzling in your prune suit.” He smoothed the jacket’s front.
“This is notprune,it is a very lovely shade of puce, I believe.”
“Well, whatever it is, you look pretty awesome,” I said breathlessly. Clay smiled at me, catching the way my voice shook as he took my hand.
“Look at you guys! Aren’t you a sight!” my mom said, pulling the four of us into the living room so she could take pictures. My dad looked up from the newspaper he was reading on the couch. His eyes darkened slightly at the sight of Clay holding my arm and I glared at him. Catching my look, my dad smoothed his expression and gave me a smile.
“You all look great,” he said politely.
