Katie’s girl gang had beenthrilledthat Davis and I clicked. Amanda had sent a spree of enthusiastic emojis while Courtney and Paige had both texted some version of,You go, Mads!
I just got off the phone with him, Reese had messaged.He thinks you’re cute and says you have a ton in common!
That made me blush; no guy had ever called me cute before. I reread her text before Katie chimed in:Ooh, details please…
I’d been happy to provide them.
Now, Connor asked if Davis played a sport.
“No.” I shook my head. “He’s a musician—”
“Amusician?” Dad sucked in a sharp breath. “Are we talking rock band or boy band?”
“Does it matter, Harry?” Da asked. “Both have a long and complicated history with substance abuse.”
“Wedding band, actually,” I reported. “Besides playing saxophone in his school band and singing in two choirs, he and his friends have formed a wedding band. I can show you their Instagram page.”
My dads looked genuinely impressed.
“And,” I added, “he has been appointed official concert chaperone for his younger sister and her fellow tweens.”
I expected Connor to roll his eyes. When his parents had asked him to take his thirteen-year-old brother and his buddy to Olivia Rodrigo last year, he had outright refused. Instead, it was me who screamed and sang along with Liam and Noah at the Wells Fargo Center in Philly. Austin had plenty of yummy greasy takeout waiting for us afterward; he’d insisted we crash at his apartment. Katie hadn’t moved in yet.
Whenever Liam McCallister referenced it as “the best night ever,” Connor looked like a dog with his tail curled between his legs. “There’s always Shawn Mendes next July…” I liked reminding him.
“He sounds like a good guy,” Connor eventually said, and my parents nodded in agreement. Dad—who now had his laptop out, probably doing a background check on Davis—also gave me an emphatic thumbs-up. “But”—Connor cleared his throat—“if you have a good time, does that mean he’ll be coming toourJProm?”
Shoot, I thought. Our high school’s junior prom was a week after Hun’s, and technically, I already had a date. Well, not exactly a date, because said date was Connor. He and Brenna had broken up at the end of February (and Lauren Bitterman hadn’t wormed her way into his heart yet).Do you want to go to JProm together?he’d texted while I was playing a showcase down in Florida. I really want to have fun, and I always have the most fun with you.
Yes, I’d replied.Because I have the most fun with you, too.
Then I took a screenshot of those two messages and saved them to my camera roll, rereading them every now and again. They made my heart twist for different reasons. I loved knowing that our friendship was solid, strong, and true…but it also made me think of Austin and Samira, best friends who’d fallen so hard for each other in high school.
Sometimes I spiraled, wondering why Connor and I weren’t like them. If he could just stay single for five seconds, would something happen between us?
“I mean, I hope Davis and I have a great time together,” I told Connor now, a lump in my throat. “But I’m already locked down for JProm.” I shrugged. “Some lax bro asked me via text.”
“Lame!” my parents chorused. They still wouldn’t let Connor live down the fact that he hadn’t asked me in person.
Connor’s lips twitched up in a smile. I shook my head and smiled back before Face-IDing into my phone, which was blowing up thanks to the bridesmaids. Now that Davis and I were officially going to JProm together, they were hell-bent on finding me the perfect dress. I’d been immediately bombarded with links to potential dress options before Meredith had quelled the madness.Everyone cease!she’d texted, and then:Mads, would you like ideas? Or do you have it covered?
Ideas welcome!I wrote, even though I could literally just wear the violet cocktail dress I’d worn to Katie and Austin’s engagement party. Davis had said the dress code was semiformal.
But the truth was, this was so unexpectedly fun that I’d consider all input offered—and hoped for some from Katie. Maybe I wasn’t looking forward to browsing bridesmaid dresses for hours together, but a link or two from Lulus or Reformation would be nice. She knew my style best.
Cool!Meredith texted.Please describe your personal style so Amanda doesn’t waste time scouring the White House Black Market website.
I giggled a little. WHBM tried to be cool and sophisticated but was on the preppier side. Not to mention, way too old for me.
Nana still shopped there.
“How would you describe my style?” I asked the family room.
“Fun pants and a white top,” Connor said automatically, unaware how well he’d been trained.
“That’s anoutfit,” I said. “Not an aesthetic.”
“Fine. Purple, then.”
