Chapter Seventeen
Catherin
Three weeks until prom
With Owen off playing Law & Order: High School, Hunter still distraught over her lost artwork, and Jordon barely tolerating being in the same space with me, much less rehearsing, I decided the best way to spend my Friday night was alone. Doing homework. But my thoughts keep drifting to Hunter and all her hard work in a tangled mess of dirt, rock, and plastic. I set my book aside and reach for my phone to call her but end up sending a text instead. Hunter isn’t big on talking on the phone.
Hunter and I have been there for each other through everything over the past nearly four years. She helped me through my mama drama and then leaned on me when she first came out to her parents, even though they were totally accepting. Our classmates, on the other hand, not so much. Jessa tried to get me to do to Hunter what we did to Riley in middle school, but for the first, and last, time in my life, I stood up for something I believed in.
Hunter is a better person than I am. She still loves me but refuses to hang out with Jessa and the other cheerleaders. Other than Riley, she’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be there for her tonight. Maybe I can help her recreate her masterpiece. I may not be artistic, but I can follow directions and hand her the glue and scissors.
Jeremy’s parties are notorious for getting rowdy, including copious amounts of vomit, so I throw on a dark T-shirt to go with my jeans and run a brush through my hair just in time to meet Hunter out front.
Using the running board as a step, I haul myself into the passenger side of her gigantic truck and start messing with the radio.
“Hey, I was listening to that.”
“Country music is so depressing. We need something more upbeat.”
“My truck, my music.”
“Just trying to cheer you up,” I mumble and tune the radio back to some sappy, twangy song about heartbreak or death or something else morose.
“Do you think prom is really canceled for good this time? I mean, Riley’ll come around, right? You’ve known her the longest. What do you think?”
“I don’t know. I think she meant it. This might have been one thing too many. And I can’t say I blame her.”
“I’m asking Simone tonight, so there better be one. I don’t care if we dance in an empty field under the stars.”
The two blocks leading up to the Davis house are cluttered with cars by the time we arrive. Hunter manages to parallel her mammoth truck between a tiny Honda and Hannah’s pink VW Bug.
I open my door and leap down the cavernous distance from her truck seat to the ground without breaking an ankle. Hunter’s head is on a swivel as we walk the block and a half to Jeremy’s.
“What does Simone drive?” I ask.
“Red Sentra.”
I keep my eyes peeled to the left as she scans the right, but we arrive at the house without seeing the target car. The front door is open, and kids already tumble out of it into the front yard. A girl and boy are tangled up together on the porch swing while a couple of baseball players hoot their approval from the grass.
“Hey, where’s Owen?” someone yells.
A red cup is thrust into my hand by a junior I recognize from my Spanish class two years ago.
“Thanks,” I say, sniffing it before taking a sip of warm, flat beer.
Hunter and I head inside, where the bass thumps against my ribs and the music is so distorted I can’t even tell what it is.
“Over here,” Hunter yells in my ear and grabs my sleeve to tug me along.
Sure enough, Simone is at the kitchen island, an impressive lineup of shots in front of her.
Hunter leans in. “I’m going to wait until she does those, then I’m gonna make my move.”
Simone’s best friend, Janell, stands behind her, Simone’s thick blond curls clamped tightly in Janell’s fist.
Simone crosses her arms behind her back. “To hell with heteronormative standards,” she yells before bending forward and wrapping her lips around the first glass. She stands, tilting her head back as the crowd around her whoops and applauds.
“Damn, that’s hot,” Hunter says beside me.
Simone places the glass back on the counter with her mouth, then wipes her lips with the back of her hand. Something tells me that’s not her first shot. Her eyes take on a glassiness, and she sways on her feet. A tear slips out of the corner of her eye, and her lip wobbles before she leans over and barfs on the floor in front of her.
“So much for making your big move tonight,” I say.
Hunter lets out a long sigh before turning and heading toward the sliding glass doors. “Let’s get another drink.”
While Hunter gets in line for the keg, my eyes roam the backyard, landing on Owen sitting on the deck with a dejected Riley.
Hunter materializes beside me, beer spilling over the side of her cup. “There’s your boy. Let’s join him.” She tugs me over to them. “Hey, Riles,” she says with way too much enthusiasm. Who gets drunk off of one beer? I guess I’m designated driver tonight. The thought of driving Hunter’s truck terrifies me in the daylight—driving it after dark is the stuff nightmares are made of. I’m beginning to think that Owen is our best option for a ride home. Even so, I turn my drink over and dump my beer onto the grass but hang onto my red plastic cup to give my hands something to do.
Riley glances up at Hunter with suspicion, and yeah, I can understand that. Riley and Hunter have never hung out together, as far as I know, and I’ve never heard anyone call her “Riles,” not even Desmond.
“Hi,” she says, her tone flat.
“So, prom-morp is still happening, right? You weren’t serious about it being canceled. Were you?”
Riley starts to say something, then lets out a loud, hiccupy sob. “I’m so sorry about your decorations, Hunter.”
“I’ll be upset about that tomorrow, but tonight, I need to know it wasn’t all in vain. Tell me it’s still a go.”
“We only have three weeks left before prom and nothing to show for it. No venue, no decorations, no band, no food, no money. So, unless we want to start back at the beginning, it’s not happening.” She pushes up from the deck. “I’m sorry about your art project. It was…really great.” Her voice breaks, and she turns abruptly, marching inside.
“Did I say something wrong?” Hunter asks, dropping down beside me.
I shake my head, but I’m less worried about Hunter at the moment. My heart is beating fast, and I’m confused over the reason why. I mean, I should be upset because prom is canceled and now I won’t be crowned Prom Queen, but instead, I’m upset for Riley. Even though we were all in this together, she has been carrying nearly the entire load, with only bits of help here and there from everyone else.
I’ve been so worried Riley was setting me up for some revenge-fueled payback. But as I think over the years since we parted ways, she’s never been anything but nice to me. Riley couldn’t fake being genuine if her life depended on it. One of the things I’ve always admired about her is her transparency. Jessa and Natalie said it made her weak, but being comfortable with who you truly are is a strength I’ve never possessed, a strength I admire.
I’ve tried to make Riley the villain in all this to ease my guilt or justify my actions, but it’s always been me. It’s not even Jessa. I made the decision, I’m the bad guy. And it’s long past time to undo the damage I caused.
“We need to do something,” I say.
Owen glances over at me, his face twisted with something more than just disappointment over prom, his gaze locked on the door Riley just powered through. Could he actually like, like, Riley? The way she likes him? It’s not as crazy as some people in my social circle might think. They probably have more in common than anyone knows. They’re both thoughtful, genuine, honest, and hardworking. In fact, the things I admire the most about Owen are what I also admire about Riley. How did I never make this connection before?
“Owen, we need to fix this. Riley worked so hard, and now it all fell apart. Again.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing the past month? I’ve been trying to make this happen, too.”
He’s right. He put way more effort into this than I’ve given him credit for. I blow out a breath. “I know. But…I haven’t. At least not as much as I should’ve. This prom needs to happen for Riley. More than for anyone else. We only have three sponsors to show for my effort, and one is Riley’s parents. But…I have an idea on how to get money out of Ms. Baxter. I don’t think that’s going to be enough, though, and we need a place to hold it.”
“Do you have a secret venue I don’t know about?”
I sigh and shake my head, but then something comes to me. Something I’m not sure I want to do, but maybe it’ll be worth it in the end. “No, but I might know someone who knows someone who does.”
Saturday morning, I meet Owen, Hunter, and Jordon at Starbucks to discuss Plan D, or is it Plan E? I don’t even know what iteration of our prom plans we’re on these days.
“What’s up?” Jordon asks, plopping down on the bench across from me and Owen, an iced tea in his hand.
“Yeah,” Hunter says behind dark glasses. “What was so important I had to get up at the asscrack of dawn?”
“First, it’s ten thirty, second, how much did you drink last night? I lost count after the third beer.”
She pulls her shades down and glares at me over the tops of the frames before pushing them back up and taking a sip of her Trenta iced coffee.
“Okay, so I have an idea on how we still might be able to make prom happen.”
“Let’s hear it,” Jordon says.
Under the table, Owen gives my hand a little squeeze of encouragement as my heart beats out a staccato rhythm against my ribs. “Well, I think my mom may be able to help us. I’m going to ask her, and she’s more likely to agree with an audience. So…I was hoping you’d come with me and Owen to my house right now and see if we can make this thing happen.”
Jordon and Hunter stare at me without responding for several long moments. Then Hunter pivots and gets up off the bench. “Fine. I’ve got an appointment with my bed at noon, so let’s get a move on.”
Owen pulls to the curb in front of my house. Old Mrs. Abbacus is on her front porch, watching, waiting for the delinquent teenagers to start a ruckus. Owen hops out and waves with his signature grin. “Hello, Mrs. A.”
Her face scrunches as she lifts a hand in a half wave, as if she’s just now realized that teenagers are actually human beings and capable of polite behavior. Owen flips the seat forward so Jordon and Hunter can climb out of the back.
With a deep breath, I stand up straight, lift my chin, and lead the way toward my front door. My hand only hesitates for a second before I twist the doorknob and shove my way inside with a smile plastered across my face. “Mom, Dad, I’m home.”
“In here,” my mom calls from the kitchen.
She glances up, taking in my friends behind me as we enter, then closes her laptop and folds her hands across the top. We’ve barely been civil to one another since I told her I got a part in Wicked, and I guess she’s not about to pretend things are great, even in front of my friends.
She does give Owen and Hunter a courteous nod, though, before narrowing her eyes at Jordon. She’s not a fan and blames him for my “sudden” interest in theater. Little does she know this obsession goes back to the CDs her mother-in-law gave me a decade ago.
Dad wanders into the kitchen, an empty bowl in one hand. “Well hello there, Catherine’s friends.”
My friends mutter hellos but don’t seem to know what else to say to him.
“What brings you around here this fine morning?”
“Um, well, we have a problem and have a few ideas, but were hoping for some help,” I say.
Mom shoves her laptop out of the way, giving us her undivided attention. Dad kisses her head and takes the empty stool beside her. “What kind of problem?”
“Our prom has turned into a disaster,” Owen says, then spends a good half hour explaining every horrible event that has befallen our sad little Morp since the beginning.
My dad’s eyes widen with each incident, and Mom bites her lip as she listens. When Owen gets to yesterday’s demolition, her hand covers her mouth.
“I can’t believe this. Are you sure someone’s not behind all of this?” Mom asks.
“It does seem that way,” Dad says.
“Owen said the same thing,” I say.
Mom glances at Owen.
He shakes his head. “I did think that. But after spending a good part of yesterday afternoon and this morning looking into it, I have to admit it’s just a huge, long series of unfortunate events. Even if someone stole the deposit money from Riley, no one can control the weather, and the field’s owner took our deposit and skipped town. This morning I found out she sold the property before Riley ever talked to her about using it for prom. I don’t see any of these being related to one another, other than being a string of bad luck.”
I give Owen a small smile, glad he came to that conclusion on his own.
“How can we help?” Mom asks.
“Well…I was hoping you could ask one of your clients if we could rent a venue at a discount,” I say. “We have the social media campaign, which is kind of a bust so far, but I can contact the newspaper and local TV stations about doing a human-interest story. Maybe get some positive press for any businesses willing to help us.”
“How much of a discount?”
“I don’t know. We don’t have any money left and nothing to show for what’s already been spent. Jane started a GoFundMe, but we’ve only raised a whopping one hundred dollars with that so far. I’m still hoping Francine’s Frocks will come through with something, though.”
Mom sighs and glances at my friends. “Could you please give us a moment alone with our daughter?”
“Sure,” Owen says and grabs Hunter’s sleeve, tugging her from the kitchen. Jordon follows, closing the door behind him.
Mom leans against the back of her stool and sighs. “What’s going on, Catherine? First you tell me you’re not going to college and now you want me to convince one of my biggest clients to basically provide the equivalent of a pro bono night?”
“I never said I wasn’t going to college. I just don’t want to go to OSU. And I don’t want to go into law.”
Dad reaches over and places a hand on my mom’s arm. She shrugs it off and stares me down. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“Neither do I.” I’ve been so busy trying to be the daughter she wants, I lost sight of the real me. The problem is, I don’t even like this character I’ve created for myself. I let my mom tell me what I should do with my life and Jessa tell me who I can be friends with. I need to stand up for myself, my real self. “I want to go to UC and study drama.”
“Where is this coming from?”
“Mom…you never listen to me. I’ve always wanted this. You never came to any of my ballet recitals or any of my performances. If you did, you’d know that not only do I love it, but I’m good at it. Really good. But…” I drop my head and twist my fingers together, gaining the courage to go on. “I can’t do it on my own. I need you to support me in this. But if you can’t, I guess I’ll go to OSU for you. But I won’t go to law school.”
She lifts an eyebrow. “For me? This is about your future, not mine.”
“Is it, though?”
Mom rubs her eyes before glancing up at me again. “Yes, it is. Just because I don’t want you to throw your life away doesn’t mean you don’t have any choice in the matter. Do you know how many people make it in Hollywood or on Broadway? It’s a long shot.”
“I know that. I don’t have unreal expectations. But I have to find out for myself. I’d hate to be on the verge of forty and wish I’d have done something different with my life. At least if I try and fail, I’ll know.”
She closes her eyes and sighs before getting up and leaving the kitchen without another word.
My shoulders deflate as the breath I’ve been holding leaves my lungs. I turn to Dad. “That went well.”
He tears his eyes away from the door and pats the seat my mom just vacated. “Sit.”
With a glance over my shoulder, wondering what my friends are up to out there, I cross the kitchen and plop my butt down on the stool.
“Before you were born, I was a researcher. It was the best job I could have ever imagined.”
I stop tracing the lines in the stone countertop to look at my dad. Really look at him. To me, he’s always been a middle school science teacher. Sure, I knew he had a job before, but he never talks about it. I thought that was because he hated it.
“The day you came into our lives, I knew my role was to stay home and take care of you. So I turned in my resignation, packed up my desk, and carried my sad cardboard box of crap out to my car.”
“Dad…”
He puts up a hand. “Life is fluid, constantly changing, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t pursue your dreams. I don’t regret a single moment of staying home with you, of being able to be here for you after school and during the summers.”
“I thought you just did it because Mom didn’t want to.”
He lets out a soft laugh. “No. She was jealous of me. She hated leaving you every day. But her job paid more than mine, and she was on track to make partner. Leaving her job would have put all that in jeopardy.”
“So you gave up your dreams for me?”
He shakes his head. “No. My dreams changed. I’m doing exactly what I want to do. But you’re growing up, Kitty Cat, and you don’t need me as much anymore. So I’m going to go back to the lab.”
“I’ll always need you, Dad,” I whisper. “But I’m glad you’re going back to doing what you love.”
“Your mom doesn’t know you the way I do. Her job requires long hours. She saw this as my time with you and figured she’d get her chance when you were grown. I think she’s worried she made the wrong choice.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I glance down so he won’t see them. “Oh.”
Not only does she not know me, apparently I don’t know her, either.
Mom sits at the counter with her iPad and laptop, phone clutched in her hand when I enter the kitchen Sunday morning. She glances up, eyes puffy as if she barely got any sleep last night.
“Good morning, Mom.”
“Good morning.” She returns to her laptop and types for a minute before closing it and turning toward me. “I think I have an idea for your prom.”
“Really? Oh, Mom, that’s great. What is it?”
“Miami Valley Vineyards had a wedding cancel the weekend of your prom. They called me to help resolve a dispute with the couple over the deposit. The wedding is definitely off, but the venue, flowers, and food are already paid for.”
“Oh my gosh, Mom, that’s…amazing. The best!”
“Well, it’s not a done deal yet, there’s a chance the couple will insist on using the venue for some other event since they paid for it, but give me some time to work it all out. You’ll need to be flexible, because it might not come together at all, or fall into place at the last minute.”
“Of course. I mean, we’ve been nothing if not flexible so far. We’ll make sure we have a backup plan in place.”
“It would be nice if you could still contribute something toward the costs, but they understand what happened. However, because this is currently being negotiated, they don’t want any press at this point. If it falls into place, though, they’d love for you to call the newspaper and television stations to do a feel-good piece about it. The couple has been bad-mouthing them all over social media, and they could use some good publicity.”
“Yes, of course. I’m going to Francine’s today to see what I can do. And Hunter did all the decorations before. They were completely ruined, but since it was her senior art project, I can see if she’s willing to recreate them with help from the rest of us.”
“Good.” She gets back to work, but when I turn to leave, she calls out, “Catherine?”
“Yeah?”
“In second grade, you wrote a story about what you thought your life would be like when you were thirty. Do you remember that?”
I shake my head, but I think I know where this is going.
“You said you were going to be a lawyer just like your mom. You didn’t want to stay home and burn things like your dad did.”
My hands fly up to cover my mouth. “Oh no. How awful. Did he used to burn a lot of food?”
She laughs. “He’s gotten a lot better at cooking, but baking has always been his thing.”
Just the thought of his soft and gooey chocolate chip cookies makes my mouth water.
“I guess I took that seven-year-old’s essay to heart, because I wanted it to be true. So much so that I never entertained the idea that you’d change your mind.”
“I tried to tell you, but you didn’t want to hear it.”
She shakes her head. “No, I guess I didn’t. I’m sorry I missed all of your performances. I…had no idea. I thought those were activities your father thought you should do. He was sort of clueless when it came to raising a daughter. I always thought he just looked on a website for ‘things girls like’ and enrolled you in all of them.”
“I really do love it, Mom. Maybe you can come to see a performance of Wicked?”
“We’ll see.”
That’s more than I expected from her, and I’ll take it.
The LEAF silently pulls up in front of Hunter’s house when I pick her up on my way downtown. She runs out the front door to meet me, breathless as she climbs into the passenger seat, looking about a thousand times better than she did yesterday morning.
“How’d things go after we left yesterday?”
“Yesterday? About the same. But this morning was a total one-eighty.” I proceed to fill her in on my conversation with Mom.
“No way! Wow.”
“Yep. There’s a chance that it could all work out. But, no matter what, I say prom’s back on. We can’t give up. I’ll keep looking for other options for a site and food and stuff. Do you think you can work your magic again for the decorations? I can help, and I can probably drag Owen and a few others along.”
“I don’t know. I was kinda thinking of going in a different direction for my final. But…if you’re serious about helping me, I can probably do something.”
“I am serious. This is important to you so it’s important to me. But even with everything else, we really need to get Francine to donate some funds toward this.”
She pulls her sunglasses down from the top of her head and pushes them up her nose. “No prob. I’ve got this.”
I crank some Taylor Swift, a compromise between her love of country and my love of anything that’s not country, and we both sing at the top of our lungs until I pull up to the curb in front of the shop shortly after it opens.
Ms. Baxter looks up when we enter and smiles broadly. “Good morning, girls. Ready to pick up your dresses?”
“Oh no. I thought you’d heard. Prom’s been canceled,” Hunter says.
“What happened?”
“Everything,” Hunter says. “Anything that could go wrong, did. We lost our venue, food vendor, decorations, everything.”
“Well, wow, how awful. I’m so sorry.”
Hunter rubs a hand across the top of her nearly shaved head, bristling against what remains of her hair. “So, is there any way we can get a refund for our deposits?”
“Oh, honey, I’d like to, but honestly, it’s against policy. You signed a document—”
“I’m a minor. It’s not legally binding.”
Ms. Baxter’s eyes narrow, and she stands straighter.
I cross my arms. “You know my mom’s a lawyer, right?”
She presses her lips together and pulls out a spiral-bound book, flipping through it until she finds the receipts for our deposits.
“There are a lot of other girls in the same situation we are,” Hunter says.
Mrs. Baxter’s face pales, and she clutches at the glasses hanging from a beaded chain around her neck. “What?”
“All the girls we convinced to come in here and put a deposit on a dress from our school are also promless. If we find a way to make prom happen, I’m sure the online stores would be happy to take their orders.”
“I can’t…but that’s not…”
“You know what you could do?” I say.
She glances up at me, wide-eyed.
“You could sponsor our prom and help us pay for an alternate location. Let’s say, 10 percent of what you stand to make in profits from our dresses.”
“That’s blackmail.”
I laugh. “Hardly. It’s a business proposition. The local news is going to cover our little mishap of a prom disaster. Imagine if Francine’s Frocks steps up at the last minute as our savior. That’s some pretty good PR. The kind you can’t really buy. Or in this case, you can.”
“Other businesses are also offering to help out. You don’t want them to get all the publicity, do you?” Hunter asks.
Ms. Baxter stares at us for a long time, her mouth twisted in anger, before nodding and pulling out her checkbook. She writes a check, rips it out, and hands it to me. “Will this be enough?”
My eyes widen for a second at the sum, but I nod and back out of the store before she changes her mind.
Hunter lets out a laugh as the door closes behind us. “Oh my God, that was epic.”
“It wasn’t illegal, was it?”
“I don’t think so. At least I hope not.”
Holding the check from Francine gives me an idea. “Hey, do you need to be anywhere?”
“Nope. Why? What are you up to?”
My eyes travel up and down the block. “Let’s see if any more of Hamilton’s small businesses want some positive press.”
I can barely stand still as I knock on Owen’s front door. His mom pulls it open, a grin spreading across her youthful face. Her sleek blond hair is pulled up into a messy bun.
“Well, Catherine, what a nice surprise. We haven’t seen you around here much lately.”
“I know, Mrs. Locklear. You know how it is at the end of senior year. So much going on.”
“Yes, of course. Come on in.” She closes the door behind me and calls up the stairs, “Owen, dear, Catherine’s here.”
“Just a minute,” he says, followed by a bunch of scrambling and something hitting the floor.
“What the heck?” I ask.
Mrs. Locklear laughs, her blue eyes, the same color her son inherited from her, crinkling at the corners. “He’s just playing that crazy Quest of the Undead game or whatever it’s called.”
“Oh, Immortal Quest. Yeah, I don’t get the appeal.”
Owen stumbles down the stairs a few moments later in a rumpled T-shirt and pair of sweats. “Hey, Cat. What’s up?”
“Can we talk?”
“Yeah, c’mon.” He leads the way up to his room.
“Leave the door open,” his mom calls.
Owen groans but leaves it ajar just to humor her. His bed is an unmade mess, his headset thrown on his desk, his flat screen monitor displaying a countdown to the beginning of the next Immortal Quest challenge. “How are things with your mom?”
“Good. I mean really good. That’s what I came to tell you.”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s great, Cat. I’m happy for you.”
“No, you giant dork.” I shove him in the shoulder. “I mean she’s on our side. She’s working with Miami Valley Vineyards, and they may have an opening. We won’t know for sure for a week or maybe more, but it’s a possibility.”
“What?” He runs a hand through his unkempt hair. “Really?”
“Yeah. They’re a client and happen to have had a last-minute wedding cancelation. And Hunter and I stopped by Francine’s today and picked up this.” I float the check in front of his face.
He looks at it, his eyes widening, and he laughs, picking me up and swinging me around. “That’s awesome!”
“I know! I also got the bakery to donate cupcakes, the craft store to donate supplies for Hunter’s decorations, and a bunch of stuff for the prize pack. You should tell Riley.”
He grabs his phone but pauses before setting it back down. “Naw. Let’s make sure everything is a go… I don’t want to disappoint her again.”
I shake my head emphatically. “But she likes to plan. Riley makes lists and does things according to those lists. She needs to get her dress and shoes. Right now she’s thinking she doesn’t need any of that.”
“Riley’s not like that.”
“Yeah, she is.” A small breath puffs out between my lips. “Riley and I used to be really close.”
He nods. “Yeah, like when we were in diapers.”
“No. Well, yeah, but longer than that. Don’t you remember the three of us hanging out together?”
He nods. “Well, sure, but…” He tilts his head to one side, then the other as he studies me, his chiseled features scrunching with the gymnastics his face is going through. “Did something happen between you two?”
“You could say that.” I glance down at my fingers and chew on the inside of my bottom lip, unable to meet his gaze. Being true to myself means that step one in reclaiming the old Catherine is coming clean on what I did. The last person I want to tell is Owen, but he’s also the natural choice to start with. “My mom had so many expectations for me that included hanging out with the right kids, being part of the in crowd… I let Jessa come between me and Riley. I was awful to her.”
“Define awful.”
“Jessa wanted me to kick her out of our group. She said Riley wasn’t cool enough to hang with us. I-I…” I sigh and close my eyes. “I told her Riley was cool and we’d been best friends since kindergarten, but she told me that if I didn’t dump Riley, I was out of the group, too, and the repercussions would be worse for me.”
I open my eyes and find Owen’s blue gaze steady on me, but his expression is otherwise unreadable.
“I wasn’t strong enough to handle full-on bullying. And I thought if I stayed with Jessa’s group, I could protect Riley from it as well. It made sense to me at the time, but saying it out loud all these years later, I realize I was the worst friend. I tried to make up for what I did by sticking with Hunter, but I’ve never made it up to Riley. I’ve never even apologized to her,” I whisper. “I should have stood up to Jessa. I didn’t. I let her tell me what to do.”
He nods. “Like I’m always telling you, it’s your life.”
“I know. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to stand up for what I want.”
“Because you’re a pleaser. You go with the flow, so you don’t rock the boat.”
I let out a short laugh. “Care to add any more clichés?”
His flowing laughter joins mine. “You know what I mean. You don’t like conflict. Just look at us. We’ve never fought over anything. Maybe that’s why we stayed together long past when we should’ve ended things. We’re easy together.”
I lean back against his desk and cross my arms over my chest as I stare at the boy who has been such a big part of my life over my high school years. He’s right. It’s always been easy with us, but that’s all it’s really ever been. We’re two lifelong friends who tried to create something magical but fell short. We both deserve something more.
“You should ask Riley to prom.”
His lips part, and his eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m not blind, Owen. You like her, and she clearly has it bad for you.”
“What? No. We’re just friends. She doesn’t think of me that way.”
I snort. “She does. The way you look at her, the way you’re always laughing together. You can lie to me, but don’t lie to yourself.”
His face turns dark red, and he shakes his head. “How’d you know?”
I shrug. “I’m an actress. Or at least I want to be. Part of that is studying body language and the small gestures that give away thoughts and feelings. Does she know you like her?”
His head falls forward. “I don’t know.”
“You should ask her to prom. Then you’ll be sure she knows.”
“What if she turns me down?”
A laugh escapes before I can stop it. “Right.”
“She’s already going with Jordon.”
At the mention of Jordon and Riley going to prom together, my heart twists a little in my chest. My gaze drops to my shoes, and I curl my lips inward.
“Now your body language is giving you away. What’s up with you and Jordon?”
“I don’t know. My life is so complicated right now, and Jordon is just another complication. You’re right about us. We’ve never been complicated. At least not when we aren’t trying to play the roles that other people cast for us.”
He nods and moves next to me, slinging an arm across my shoulders. “Best friends forever, Cat.”
That’s all it takes for me to spill my guts. After I told him about how awful I was to Riley, the girl he secretly likes, he still considers me one of his best friends. I tell him about almost kissing Jordon after rehearsing. “And now it’s like he can’t stand to be around me. I screwed this up.”
“J’s a good guy. At least what I know about him. I don’t know what’s going on inside his head, but I think he likes you, too. Based on what you told me about that night, it sounds like he’s not into cheating. He thinks we’re still together.”
“Yeah, I guess, but then that means he thinks I was okay with being a cheater.”
The corner of his mouth tips up. “So, tell him the truth.”
Could it really be that easy? I mean, telling Owen everything and getting these thoughts out in the open has made me feel lighter. Lighter than I have in weeks. As if I could be launched into the air and complete a triple before landing.
“Okay. But then you need to ask Riley to prom.”
He shakes his head. “I said I’d go with you, and I stick by my word.”
“Even if I release you?”
He nods. “Yup. Riley’s going with Jordon.”
“Only because she thinks you’re taken. If I come clean with Jordon, you need to do the same with Riley.”
He steps away from me and shifts his feet, his gaze going to the window. “Well, um, I kinda told her we broke up.”
“What?”
When he turns back toward me, his eyes are still downcast. “Yeah. Last week.”
I shake my head, not sure I heard him right.
His eyes finally meet mine. “I know we agreed to keep it between the two of us, but…”
“But you like her. It’s okay, Owen, really. What did she say?”
With a deep sigh, he shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
“Well, I still think you should ask her, and you should do it when you tell her about the donations and potential new site.”
“Okay. Maybe. I don’t know. I should probably wait until we know for sure if all this is going to work out.”