Damn, her impatience had no limits. I’d been battling her from the start of this surprise trip. Just getting her out of the donor’s dinner early had been a chore, making me wonder if I’d miscalculated and this whole thing was a giant mistake. It was a grand gesture, for sure. Grace and I had never been big on over-the-top displays of love. We showed our affection for each other in different ways: the disco ball that still hung from my drum kit; the texts we had sitting right beside one another; the single she’d written for Sketch Monsters, “House of Cards,” that shot all the way to the top of the charts.
But this wasn’t just a grand gesture; it was an unrealized promise.
“Pull in here,” I said to the driver. “All the way to the front.”
Coordinating these two major events had not been not easy. I’d had to share my idea with Michelle early on so she could plan the ribbon cutting around it. It was the only way I could think of to get Grace all fancied up without giving it all away.
The car came to a stop. The noise of the crowds outside drew her attention.
“Now?” she asked.
“No.”
The driver got out and walked around the car and opened the door. The whoosh of air prompted another impatient question.
“Now?”
“No.” I grabbed her hand. “I’m going to help you out. Keep your eyes shut. I’m going to walk you to your surprise.”
She groaned, but there was a smile on her face. Grace was intrigued. Excited whispers created a buzz in the air as those around us realized who we were and what we were doing here. For security purposes, only staff had been made aware of our attendance tonight, so the surprised reaction of the crowd now was understandable. People called out my name, catching me off guard, though I should have expected it. This was Quinn’s old stomping ground. He was a legend here, and so was Sketch Monsters. Everybody knew my name by association alone.
With a finger pressed to my lips, I pleaded with the onlookers to keep my secret just before stopping in front of the open double doors. Music blared from inside.
“Now?” she tried again.
“Now.”
It took a moment for the significance of it to register, but when it did, she gasped.
The music. The photo booth. The archway made of balloons.
“Grace Note. Will you go to Homecoming with me?”
It was Friday night, and my girl finally got her dance.
* * *
The End
