Chapter Twenty-Three
to cry!” Mami squeals as I step out of my bedroom for the grand reveal, fanning away the tears threatening to ruin her mascara.
Nurse Oatmeal gives her seal of approval by nuzzling her head against my shoes.
“Ven pa’ca,” Doña Carmen calls out, urging me to come back to the room I’d just made my dramatic exit from.
I teeter back to her, struggling to balance in my just-bought-last-night heels, and praying I don’t break my neck before Joaquin gets here. She’s waiting at the edge of my bed with a safety pin and a determined expression on her face. She fusses with the back of my left sleeve, pinching and tucking until it’s pulled more tightly across my shoulder.
“So you can dance,” she explains once the last pin has been slipped into place.
I give her a twirl in the mirror. As promised, I can move freely now without the fear of my left shoulder strap sliding down and exposing my goods to the world.
The fact that I’m even in this dress right now is miraculous. Anna wasn’t kidding, the pickings for prom dresses this late in the game were dreadfully slim. With less than a week to find something, I either had to buy a dress in store ASAP or cough up another three figures for express shipping. With my in-person options being various types of unflattering animal print, I was ready to show up to prom in jeans.
Thankfully, Mami is a sentimental clothing hoarder, and we just happen to be the same size.
“It looks better now than it did when I bought it!” Mami exclaims as she joins me in front of the mirror.
The dress did go through a Cinderella-esque makeover. Doña Carmen, former seamstress extraordinaire, was able to fix the imperfections in the timeless pink dress Mami wore to her sophomore homecoming. She adjusted the too-wide straps to a more modern Bardot top, added a layer of tulle, and patched the holes left behind from our brief but very terrifying moth infestation with embroidered flowers. The moths also ate up the bottom of the skirt, but thankfully it still works as a tea-length dress, too. Plus, Doña Carmen cinched the waist to make up for the fact that I didn’t inherit Mami’s hourglass curves. My clavicle looks great, though.
It’s not at all what I expected—it’s better.
“La más hermosa nenita en todo el mundo,” Doña Carmen proclaims as she admires her handiwork before giving me a kiss on the cheek. In this dress, with my hair tumbling down my shoulders in soft waves pinned to one side, my eyes smoldering thanks to a smoky glitter eyeshadow and lined with wings sharp enough to kill, and my tanned skin shimmering like a mythical goddess—thank you, Rihanna—it’s impossible not to feel like she’s right. I am the most beautiful girl in the world.
A knock startles the three of us. We turn to find Joaquin in the doorway, hands covering his eyes. “Am I allowed to look? Or is that bad luck?”
“It’s not a wedding dress,” I tease, crossing the room and pulling his hands down to his sides. The thrill of his fingers sliding into mine still doesn’t feel any less surreal, and I hope it never does.
Doña Carmen whispers something to Mami that makes her nod vigorously. The two of them shuffle out of the room as quickly as they can, mumbling about needing to go grab the corsage and boutonniere.
“Door open!” Mami calls out from the hallway, leaving the door to my room cracked just enough that we have some privacy without her needing to worry about any funny business. Not that I have any interest in getting out of this dress when it took twenty minutes to put it on.
When their voices have faded, we finally take each other in. I already knew Joaquin cleaned up well from previous dances we’ve been to over the years, but his newly rented black suit is especially on point. Impeccably cut to every slope of his body, with a soft pink silk tie that matches my dress so perfectly it’s as if they were designed to be worn together.
“You look gorgeous,” he whispers, an awed expression on his face as he cradles my cheek in his palm. His thumb runs along the curve of my lower lip, careful not to disrupt the gloss. “You always do, but a little extra today.”
“Only a little?”
He chuckles, letting his chin fall to his chest. “Fine. A lot.”
His hand shifts to the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss that makes me even more unsteady than I already was in these heels. His movements are careful, minding my hair and the pins holding my dress together as he rests a hand on my waist. There are a thousand things to love about kissing him, but this is one of my favorites. The way he takes so much care in every touch, letting us set the pace together. Never too much, or too fast. And, somehow, never enough.
While I’d be very happy with kissing the most handsome boy I know until my lip gloss is smeared and my body is too numb to stand, we’re not dressed up for nothing.
Our attentive audience makes sure to gasp and ooh and aah when we come out to the living room as if they didn’t see us five minutes ago. The loudest cheer comes from Joaquin’s phone, Mami holding it up and around so we can see Mrs. Romero. Meanwhile, from my laptop, Isabella gives us a vigorous round of applause.
“Daaaaaaaaamn, bro!” Isabella shouts as Joaquin steps toward the cameras and does a proper spin for her. “You actually look halfway decent.”
“Please, you wish you could look this good in a suit,” he says with a wink.
Isabella rolls her eyes. “See, now why did you have to go and ruin the moment?”
Mrs. Romero hushes her daughter before leaning in so close to her camera, we can see up her nose. “You look beautiful, Ivelisse.”
My already rosy cheeks go red as apples when Joaquin’s hand slides around my waist and gives me a squeeze, as if to back up his mom’s compliment.
“Thank you, Mrs. Romero,” I reply, praying, based on how grainy the image of her nostril is, that she can’t see how hard I’m blushing.
“All right, picture time!” Mami announces, handing Mrs. Romero to Doña Carmen before rushing to grab her own phone off the dining table.
Since we have about a dozen dances under our belts, Joaquin and I assume our usual positions. We start at the base of the stairs, as always. Joaquin’s hand shifts to my low back as we make our way over. The camera shutter goes off before we’re even settled, Mami making sure to document every moment of us walking to the stairs, then stopping at the stairs, then getting into position.
While the pose is as cliché as all the dances before, there’s something easier about it this year. And in the way I lean back against Joaquin’s chest and rest my hands on top of his where they’re clasped at the base of my stomach. For once, I don’t dread the thought of Mami sending these to every tía and tío in the family WhatsApp thread or having to scroll through the hundreds of photos to find one where I don’t look like I’m in pain.
When Mami’s satisfied with her two-hundred-plus options, we head over to our next and final pose spot in front of the decorative fireplace in the living room.
“Ten cuidado,” Doña Carmen warns as she hands me the boutonniere and Joaquin the corsage. Both made of light pink peonies.
I get the honors of going first, doing my best to avoid jabbing it into his chest.
“Ow!” he shouts as I adjust the pin to straighten it out.
“Shit. Are you okay?! Where does it hurt?” I scramble to pull the boutonniere off and check for blood, but his shaking shoulders give him away. “You dick!” Once I whack him on the shoulder, he gives up on trying to hold in his laugh.
“Sorry, had to.” He backs away with his hands raised in surrender. “Your reaction was adorable, though.”
I pout, mumbling under my breath as I finish pinning his boutonniere without any fanfare. “Yeah, well, giving me a premature heart attack isn’t very adorable.”
Joaquin takes my hand before I can pull away, delicately sliding the corsage onto my wrist. “A humble price to pay for a really good joke.”
I could pinch him or come up with a witty comeback, but I don’t do either. Instead, I revel in the way our hands slot together like we’ve been doing this for years and close my eyes when he leans in to press a kiss to my cheek.
“That’s the one!” Mami waves her phone in triumph, rushing over to me so quickly she nearly trips on the carpet.
Her phone is open to the last photo she took, capturing the serenity on my face as Joaquin kisses my cheek. It’s startling at first, seeing something so intimate. Mami’s usually a crappy photographer, but I have to give her props for this one. Somehow she’s managed to immortalize the way I feel about him in a single photo.
That, when I’m with him, I feel at home.
“Text me that one?” I ask, struggling to drag my eyes away from the photo.
“Me too,” Joaquin adds, pulling me closer.
Moments after she sends it, he lets me go and taps at something on his phone before tucking it back into his pocket, the photo of us now set as his lock screen.
Twenty minutes later, and I’ve realized that leaving the house is more difficult than either of us thought. Mami insists on showing us every photo she took and FaceTiming my abuela. While being showered with compliments is very flattering, these shoes are starting to pinch my toes, and I want to get at least one dance in before giving up on them entirely.
“Take pictures! Drive safe!” Mami calls out to us from the doorway as we finally head out.
“She does not need more pictures,” I mutter to Joaquin as he takes my hand in an iron grip, helping me stumble down the driveway.
“You sure you don’t want to wear chanclas?” Joaquin asks as I move at a snail’s pace of two steps a minute. “Because at this rate, we’re gonna get to prom in time to watch everybody leave for the after-party.”
I stick my tongue out at him and quicken my stride, nearly breaking my neck in the process. To avoid getting myself killed before I can even get to the car, I readjust my grip and cling to him like a lifeline, relying on his sturdiness to move more quickly. “I did not spend the last of my savings on these just to show up wearing flip-flops.”
Once we’ve made it over to Herbert, Joaquin carefully lets go of me long enough to open the passenger side door. “Your chariot awaits.”
Thanks to our last-minute reunion, we won’t be showing up to prom in style. All of the pre-prom limos were booked, and while Tío Tony insisted that he could hook us up with a Lamborghini for the night, going in good ol’ Herbert feels more fitting.
Though, Joaquin did clean him for the occasion.
“Really pulling out all the stops here,” I say as I take my seat, running my finger along the freshly wiped down dashboard. No abandoned protein bar wrappers, or clumps of dust in sight. With the back seat free of dirty sneakers, cleats, and spare T-shirts, Herbert might as well have just rolled fresh off the lot. Well, a used lot.
“Special occasion.” Joaquin leans down with a mischievous smirk. “Forgot something. Be right back,” he says before pressing a kiss to my cheek and racing back to his house.
So much for hustling.
My date returns soon enough, hiding something behind his back. I roll down my window as he stands beside the passenger seat, gasping when he reveals two Marco’s slushies.
“For you,” he says with a grin as he hands me the piña colada slushie, taking the cherry one for himself.
“You’re a genius,” I tell him before closing my eyes and taking my first sip. It’s been way too long since we’ve had these. The first sip is as glorious as I remembered, my entire body shivering from the cold. That ultimate slushie champion title was well-deserved.
Joaquin gets in on the driver’s side, not replying until he’s taken his own first mind-blowing sip. “I did say I’d only go to prom with you if we got slushies first.”
“And you are a man of your word.”
I follow his lead, savoring the rush of artificial coconut on my tongue, the taste of lazy summers and long drives with my favorite person. “Best Uber Eats driver ever. Five stars.”
“I’m honored.”
After a few sips, and a synchronized shoulder-shimmy celebration dance, we pop open the lids of our cups and combine our slushies together—creating our favorite cherry colada masterpiece. We sit in silence, basking in the sugar high and brain freeze until we realize it’s almost seven. No one shows up to prom at five like they’re supposed to, but two hours seems excessive. We kick Herbert into gear, and while stopped at a red light down the block, Joaquin goes to turn on the radio. I stop him.
“Can I play something?”
His brow furrows, but he switches the radio off without protest. I reach into the back seat for the hiding spot I’d stashed my surprise in last night, pulling out the “Driving with Joaquin” CD I burned on Mami’s ancient desktop computer. A playlist of his favorite songs—the ones we don’t often get to listen to because he’s so willing to let my music taste come first. Starting with “I Want You to Want Me.”
It feels strange at first, hearing the opening chords of a song he’d meant to dedicate to Tessa. But the smile that blossoms on his face is well worth it.
The stoplight switches from red to green, but his gaze stays locked on me instead of the road for what seems like hours.
“You okay?” I ask, my voice barely audible over the song.
“Yeah,” he replies, taking his hand off the gear shift to brush a loose lock of hair over my shoulder. “You’re just really beautiful.”
His touch against the bare skin of my shoulder is enough to make me melt, but the press of his lips on mine, quick and sweet and tasting of cherry and coconut, makes stars burst behind my closed eyes. Even in Herbert’s cramped front seat, kissing Joaquin makes me feel like we’re in the clouds.
The blare of a car horn ruins the moment.
“Let’s go already!” the man in the car behind us yells between honks.
“My bad!” Joaquin shouts out the open window before slamming on the gas. “Sorry,” he says to me once we’ve put a decent amount of distance between us and the intersection. “You’re very distracting.” He takes my hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles, his lips sticky from the gloss on mine.
I smile and settle back into my seat, heart pounding and feeling so, so alive.
By the time we make it to the Elmwood Hilton, prom is in full swing. The prom committee has transformed the standard hotel ballroom into an underwater oasis complete with red and gold coral, ocean-blue streamers, and a tasteful variety of fish-themed décor. I guess all that stucco money does go to good use. The dance floor is packed, our classmates gyrating to a remix of a song from the ’90s. Dated as the music is, it doesn’t seem like anyone cares. So long as they can grind on each other with minimal supervision, they’re happy.
We skip the massive line for the photo booth in favor of parting ways for a bit. Joaquin heads over to the makeshift stage at the front of the room to check in with the prom committee and assure them that their last court member has arrived in one piece, while I search for Anna. Her dress, a mermaid-style strapless gown bedazzled with sequins in a gradient pattern matching the colors of the lesbian flag, makes her easy to spot in the sea of one-tone ensembles.
“You’re here!” she squeals when I come up behind her, her breath smelling like Smirnoff Peach.
“You’re here!” I squeal back. Even without the booze, it’s impossible not to match her energy.
We pull each other in for a hug that almost sends both of us toppling over.
“How was the A-list limo?” I ask with a raised brow.
With Tessa as her date, Anna got a hand-delivered invitation from Casey Zosnowski, co-captain of the cheerleading squad, to join their pre-prom limo—dubbed (by Casey) to be the most exclusive ride to prom this year. Joaquin was bestowed the same honor, only to commit the high crime of turning down the offer once he realized he wouldn’t be going with Tessa like he’d originally thought.
Anna’s eyes gleam with delight. “I really wanted it to be overrated, but I can’t lie, it was sick as hell.” She grabs her hot-pink sequined clutch off the table, popping it open and whipping out a pig in a blanket. “Want one?” she asks before grabbing one for herself.
While I know I probably shouldn’t accept food that just came out of a purse, I’m powerless to the lure of free appetizers.
“Damn,” I mumble after downing the pig in a blanket in one bite. Even after sitting in Anna’s clutch for who knows how long, it still hits. Maybe Casey wasn’t overhyping their limo.
Anna nods in approval, offering me a second one while showing off some of their pre-prom photos, one of which includes Mr. Hernandez smiling brightly in between Anna and Tessa, pressing a kiss to his daughter’s head. She’s about to swipe to another when Principal Contreras steps onto the stage at the front of the ballroom. The DJ fades out the music, the lights turn up slightly, and conversations fall to a quiet hum as Contreras clears his throat directly into the mic.
“I hate to pause the party.” He holds as if he’s waiting to be booed off the stage and continues when he isn’t. “But I’m sure we’re all eager to hear who this year’s Prom King and Queen are.” He waves a gold envelope that sends the crowd into a frenzy, applause and cheers drowning out whatever he says next.
Anna and I both let out a loud whoop, clapping along with the crowd until Contreras signals for us to quiet down.
“And your Prom King is…” He pauses for dramatic effect, the DJ starting up a drum-roll sound effect. “Joaquin Romero!”
It’s not a surprise in the slightest, but I scream as loud as my lungs let me anyway. Our classmates also erupt into cries of excitement, and I bounce on my toes as best I can without tipping over, cheering until my voice cracks.
Joaquin steps onto the stage and gives his attentive audience a humble wave. When he bends down to accept the crown from Contreras, his eyes find mine in the crowd, and it feels like we’re the only two people here.
“And your Queen…” Contreras has to shout over the roar of the crowd. The interruption does the trick, getting everyone to simmer down for their next monarch.
“Is…Tessa Hernandez!”
Not a surprise either. They’re the perfect couple on paper.
The room gives Tessa the same treatment, proclamations of love and cheers ring through the hall as she accepts her tiara and a bouquet of roses with grace. She’s a textbook image of a prom queen, her hair done up in a series of intricate braids and adorned with small crystals, her purple lace gown clinging perfectly to her curves. She even has the queen wave nailed, looking as regal as the royal family as she thanks the crowd for their support. Beside me, Anna claps with enough force to make her whole body shake.
Following tradition, Joaquin offers Tessa his hand and guides her to the dance floor for the first official slow dance of the night. There are a few wolf whistles that the two of them brush off with good-natured smiles, and the jealous rage that used to consume me at the thought of them together is gone.
It’s funny, seeing the two of them illuminated by the dim light of the disco ball as they approach the center of the dance floor. They wound up together in the end, just not quite how they’d expected. Instead, they’ve defied an ages-old high school cliché—the two most popular kids in school falling for the tech crew nerds.
I head toward the closest available seat at Anna’s table, planning to give my feet a rest from these cursed heels while I can, when a low murmur spreads among the crowd. I lift my head, expecting to see someone trying to steal the crown, or something equally shocking, but instead Cordero’s newly crowned Prom King is walking directly toward me.
“What’re you doing?” I hiss once Joaquin is in earshot.
He ignores the question and offers up his hand. “Can I have this dance?”
As sweet as the gesture is, I can’t just leave Tessa standing on the dance floor confused and abandoned by her king. We’re not exactly best friends now, but leaving someone hanging so you can get your rom-com-worthy prom moment is a dick move. “But you’re supposed to—”
As if on cue, Tessa appears beside him. The two share a knowing look before she moves past us, eyes set on her own target.
“Wanna dance?” she asks, holding her hand out to Anna.
Anna grins, tossing aside the half-eaten mini quiche she just pulled out of her clutch, and takes Tessa’s hand. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“Did you—”
Joaquin shushes me before I can finish the question. “Yes, I knew. And yes, we planned this together,” he responds with a smirk.
Before I can throw another line of questioning at him, Tessa halts beside us, hand in hand with Anna. “You coming?” she asks, the question aimed at me.
Normally, the pressure of this many eyes on me would make me crumble, but tonight it makes me stand a little taller. Feel a little bolder.
“Yeah,” I reply, taking Joaquin’s hand. “We are.”
The four of us make our way to the dance floor to the tune of a hundred whispers. Tomorrow morning we’ll be front page news, but for now we’re just us—four kids who fell in love with their best friends.
Principal Contreras seems flustered, but ultimately doesn’t stop our small act of rebellion. With a disgruntled nod, he signals to the DJ to turn up the music and let us have our moment. It seems his dance partner isn’t the only thing Joaquin managed to coordinate, as the opening notes of an all-too-familiar song begin playing over the speakers.
“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?” I ask, resting my forehead against his shoulder as we sway to the opening notes of a smooth, slowed-down cover of “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You.”
“Why would I?” he teases. “Top ten moment of my life.”
Sure enough, my off-the-cuff promposal made the rounds through the Cordero gossip mill. More people knew Joaquin and I were dating before I did, considering they managed to circulate the video during the two hours I was occupied in the light booth. It’s strange, being catapulted back into the social spotlight for a second time in my high school career because of a boy. But there’s no shock this time. No confusion as to how someone like me landed someone like Joaquin. If anything, the bigger question is why we waited so long to make it official.
“How long did it take you to plan this?” I ask after he insists on lowering me into a dramatic dip. Despite my uneasiness on my feet, he doesn’t drop me. And, I’ve gotta admit, it’s as swoony as the movies make it seem.
“About four minutes,” he replies with a shrug. “I’m in love with you, Tessa’s in love with Anna, just made sense.”
“Oh, so you’re in love with me now?”
He chuckles softly, letting his forehead come to rest against mine. “Always have been.”
“And what if I told you I loved you too?”
“Then I’d say I’m a pretty lucky guy.”
Before doubt can flood my mind, I close the distance between us and kiss him, because I want the world to know that he saw me. For me. A girl who hides in the background and builds happy endings for others, who found her own with the boy who was beside her the whole time.
Everything about our future is still unclear—whether the distance will tear us apart, whether we crash and burn before ultimately going our separate ways. But, for once, I don’t see all of those haunting what-ifs. I see something beautiful, something that takes my breath away. A life full of memories with my best friend.
When we separate and he gazes at me with the type of love I never thought I could have with him, it’s easy to see how he can believe in all of those cheesy love songs.
1 THING I LOVE ABOUT PROM
I get to spend the night dancing with you.