“Give me the brush.” I hold out my hand to her. She slaps into my palm and straightens out her shoulders, and I start to pull it gently through her hair. When the knots are gone, I hand it back to her and begin to braid it back.
“You’ve been practicing,” she notes.
“YouTube.” I clear my throat and try to concentrate on the strands of hair between my fingers, and do my best not to hurt her or pull it. “Too tight?” I ask.
Rhea laughs gently under her breath.
“What?” I pause.
“Nothing, it’s fine. Keep going.” She encourages.
“You’re laughing at me,” I scowl, but start braiding again until it becomes thin, and I put out my hand for one of those tiny elastics she leaves lying around the bathroom.
“I’m not,” she responds quietly and looks around the bed for one. I spot it before her and lean over her to grab it between my fingers. Her body tenses at the sudden contact, and she turns her head towards mine, bringing our noses dangerously close together.
“Found it.” I wait a second too long before pulling away. It’s nearly impossible to look away from her at this distance, her brows scrunched, her eyes and cheeks red from crying. I tie it around the end of her hair without looking away and inhale the smell of her orange shampoo while she watches me like a hawk. “Feel better now?” I ask her, and she nods. “I’m getting you Tylenol. You’re not leaving this bed.”
“Okay,” she nods again.
“Good.” I let go of her hair and pull back from her begrudgingly, and force every step I take out of her room.
Brighton sets the box of chips and cookies on the table where I pointed, then takes a moment to look around the gym.“Looks nice in here.” He’s wearing a dress shirt that’s too tight on his throat because he keeps rolling around his head like it’s going to loosen it up. He offered to chaperone the dance. I think it’s mostly because he still doesn’t trust the school to protect Daisy, and I don’t blame him. And… It’s just nice having him here.
His gaze turns on me as he rakes a hand through his hair and gives me a quietgood job. “I forgot you were a savant when it comes to high school dance decor,” I tease and shake my head. I’d shimmied into my most appropriate dress, but I still feel exposed under Brighton’s eyes. The thick straps feel too thin across my shoulders, and the loose, flowy fabric too tight around my hips.
“There’s more food in the truck; Boone made too much. I’ll go haul the rest in,” he says.
“Let me help,” I step forward, his eyes flickering to the splint on my hand with the shake of his head before he disappears from the gym. I refocus as best I can on the busy gym. Kids file in, laughing and shouting over each other as they take photos and flood the dance floor.
I spot Daisy before her dad gets back and smile at who she’s with. Auggie looks cute in a dress shirt and red tie. His brown hair is starting to grow shaggy around his ears, and he’s sporting a goofy, content smile. He’s helping her carry a crate of records to the stage where Lori, the self-appointed DJ for the evening, picks out what she wants to play next.
“Who is that?” Brighton scares the shit out of me, leaning down to speak right into my ear over the music.
“Uh, Auggie,” I tell him.
“What kind of name is Auggie?” His jaw goes tight, and his instant disdain for the kid makes me laugh. I cover my mouth and furrow my brows to stifle the enjoyment when Brighton tosses me an equally dirty look.
“They’re having fun.” I try to diffuse the situation.
“Yeah, about ten inches too close together,” Brighton grumbles.
“This isn't a bible camp,” I tease him.
“Do you know what happens when teenagers get that close?” He’s two seconds from starting to pace, and I turn to him with a big smile on my face.
“Are you gonna give me the birds and the bees talk, Killjoy?” I raise an eyebrow just to get him more riled up.
“Do you need me to give you that talk, Hellcat?” His voice drops, and I realize my mistake because he’s better at this game of riling than I am.
“Depends,” I push, just a little,just enough.“Does it come with examples?”
Brighton chokes on his own spit, and I know I’ve won.
“Do you need water?” I start to laugh as another teacher summons me from across the room. “Leave Daisy alone, she’s a smart girl. Don’t be a helicopter parent, hand out drinks, food… keep busy.” I warn him, and he scowls at me and asks me what that even means, but I’m too far away from him now to explain. I watch him watchthemfor most of the night.
It’s a pretty low-key evening, with only one major fight that happened in the bathrooms, but it is dealt with almost immediately, thanks to Brighton’s size. The boys take one look at him and think maybe they shouldn’t start more crap.
“Thanks.” I nudge him as we wander back to the gymnasium. “For a second there, I thought Boston was going to live in detention for the rest of his life.”
