I don’t know if it was the lights or the music or the fact that I was getting drunk on her laughter, but I tightened my arms around her without a moment of hesitation. “I can think of something.”
Her breath caught, and she pulled back to look at me. All her bravado fell away as I held her. Not in a joking or a teasing embrace. Not catching her when she tripped or while we posed for a photo. We were in a gym that still smelled like sweat under swirling clouds of cologne and perfume, surrounded by hundreds of people and the seizure-inducing flash from the world’s fastest photographer in the corner.
All I could think was, how long would she let me hold her?
But then a smile crept onto her face, and I felt the shift even before her words confirmed that the game was back on. And it was over. Whateveritwas. Whatever it might have been.
“Well, okay. I’m not sure it will fit, but if you like the dress that much, Adam, it’s yours.” I didn’t resist when she stepped out of my arms mid-song. Her eyes were too wide, and her fingers were twisting in her hair like she wanted desperately to braid it. Seeing her unnerved made it easier for me to let go. For now.
“You want to get in line for photos?”
“Yes!” she said.
When it was our turn, we took our place in front of the winter-wonderland backdrop, and the photographer started maneuvering us into one of the standard awkward poses, but Jolene was having none of that. Her eyes sparked back to life as she shrugged off whatever had dimmed them when I’d pulled her close.
“Adam,” she said, ignoring the continued orders from the photographer. “We’re not posing like mannequins. What would your mom think?”
Probably not much. I looked around at the rustic wood bench, then back at Jolene. “I don’t know that we have tons of options.”
“Or time,” the photographer deadpanned.
“C’mere.” I pulled Jolene in front of me and slid my arms around her—that was going to get addicting quick. I felt very smooth...until I tripped over the fake snow blanket on the floor. But that was worth it, because Jolene laughed, I smiled, and the flash from the camera captured it all.
Jolene
Ialmost had an Audrey Hepburn moment after Adam dropped me off.Icould have danced all night. Instead, I spun around my room with my arms outstretched, humming under my breath. I wiggled out of my dress and into my oversizeBreakfast ClubT-shirt before indulging in one last spin and falling backward on my bed.
But then the pearls from my mother’s necklace rolled against my collarbone, and I heard a door slam downstairs. Mom and Tom were fighting, and that wasn’t something I’d heard them do before. Tom always played nice with her, talking her down and cajoling her into doing things his way. Mom was usually too eager for the attention she thought would make her happy to truly let her facade drop when she was with him.
I’d told Tom the truth about never getting my dad’s money, and it seemed that Mom’s assurances to the contrary were growing thin, based on their raised voices.
My hand reached up to trace the pearls. None of her loving, motherly act was real. I knew that. It was costumes and sets. I sat up and started braiding my hair. Adam might not have noticed all the eyes on him during the dance—even some of his friends’ dates—but I had. I wasn’t surprised. Adam was always so easy with everyone. He expected people to like him unless he chose to give them a reason not to. When I wasn’t dancing around my room and remembering the way his arms had tightened around me, I resented him for that.
My fingers faltered. He’d liked my hair down. He’d told me in a million silent and not-so-silent ways all night. I hurried to finish the braid, then coiled the whole thing in a knot on my head. From the bed, I could see my reflection in the mirror on my wall. That was how Adam usually saw me.
My phone buzzed. I knew it was him before I looked at the screen.
Adam:
I have a problem.
Jolene:
You have a lot of problems.
Adam:
This one is directly related to you.
Jolene:
They usually are.
Adam:
I think tonight set an unfair precedent for the rest of my life.
Jolene:
