Chapter Twelve

Kate

 

We kept chatting about everything and nothing until sunset approached. I became aware of music playing from somewhere that hadn’t reached the patio before.

Maybe they had hidden speakers.

Something about today—tonight—felt…pivotal.

Maybe it was just that high school was over. But…the butterflies in my stomach had been extra active sitting here alone with Sam. “I’m really going to miss you,” I blurted out. Shit.

He only smiled. “I’ll give you my room number as soon as I have it,” he replied. “It’s going to be weird not having a Carson right in front of me.”

“You used to tug on my hair.”

“Couldn’t help it. All the desks were too close together.”

“Uh-huh.” Though he did reach his height earlier than most of the boys.

He shoved his chair back suddenly. “We should probably get our money’s worth out of this event.” Bubble, popped.

I gathered up my dirty dishes. “After you.”

The noise level inside was jarring. My eyes adjusted to the mood lighting, then I saw Sam ten feet ahead and hurried to catch up. But he was swallowed in the crowd.

I dropped the dishes off in the bins by the buffet.

A band was playing dance music by now and my classmates had filled the floor.

Maybe I’d play a game until something slower came on.

A hand landed on my shoulder from behind. I turned. It was Sparks, an okay baritone that joined Concert Choir last year. “Kate. Hey. Wanna dance?”

“This isn’t my style,” I yelled over the decibels.

“Come on. I know you can move.” His eyes blatantly flicked over my breasts and hips.

I squared up with him and straightened my spine. “I don’t like this song. Sorry.”

He made a dismissive sound of disgust, muttered, “Bitch,” and walked away.

Jerk.

Wish I could say it was the first time a guy didn’t take a polite hint gracefully, but no. I wore a conservative dress today for a reason. When you have C-cups in seventh grade, you receive a lot of unwanted attention. My figure was no longer a novelty now, but I knew I was pretty and desired. Prettier than most girls in my class, objectively.

I’d been on a lot of first dates since Dad trusted me without a chaperone at sixteen…but none of them had that spark you hear about.

None of them were the stupid crush that wouldn’t fade.

Melinda and Neva were the next to ask me to dance. I needed to have fun with my friends, not pine over my bestie who would never see me the same way.

After all, I was used to burying my feelings.

We shimmied and bounced until thirst was the priority, then grabbed sodas and went into the game room. Our school had set up cardboard booths and a photographer had a Polaroid camera for candids. We made a few silly poses, then let the next group have a turn.

The game booths reminded me of my elementary school carnival—ping pong balls into fish bowls, a guess-how-many-M&Ms-are-in-this jar, a basketball hoop for points, a fortune teller, and so on. Guess the budget ran short for age-appropriate entertainment. Only the pool tables belonged to the venue. Boys who didn’t dance had commandeered those.

But I was still in touch with my inner child and won a small pastel stuffed bear.

Like a Care Bear without the branding.

What I really wanted was the goofy plush dragon, but I sucked at sinking baskets, even close up. The game gave me three tries and the first two mini basketballs bounced off the rim.

A large masculine hand grabbed my last ball and tossed it.

Perfect swish. “Whatever she wants.”

I pivoted. “Hey!”

“I found you,” Sam said.

“I might’ve won that last one.” I pouted for effect.

“Sure. Pick your prize so the next person can play.”

“Purple dragon, please.”

The teacher handed it to me.

Sam plucked it out of my hands. “This thing is ugly as hell.” He stepped toward the fish bowl booth.

“Not! Give ‘em back.” I cuddled Dennis the Dragon to my bosom. “Don’t listen to the mean boy.”

“Kate, nearly every part of him was sewn on crooked.” Sam stared at me like I’d lost my marbles.

“He’s a little goofy.” Petting the fuzzy head. “I think it’s cute.”

“I hope he appreciates his fierce protector. You want to put your loot in the car?”

“I’m not done playing, yet.”

He shifted closer to me to let someone by. “Then what is your pleasure, milady?”

Pleasure. Me—puddle.

Devoid of sensible words, I turned in a random direction. “Whoa, table!”

Sam’s brow furrowed as he looked where I did, then he was in motion. A pool table had opened up. I didn’t know how to play, but focusing on hitting the balls was better than drooling over my best friend. No one would try to claim the table from him.

He handed me one of the sticks. “I’ll rack ‘em.”

“Okay.” Whatever that meant.

Then he placed all the balls in a triangle frame. Ah. Then the white ball went some inches in front of them. “One of us has to hit the white ball with the cue to break the balls and see where they stop rolling.”

“You go since you know how to play.”

Sam leaned over the table, giving me an excellent view of his toned ass. Those trousers fit perfectly. Caught up in ogling him from behind, I missed what he did to send the balls flying around the table. A solid color dropped into one of the pockets.

“You’ll be stripes,” he said. “We’ll keep it simple. We take turns trying to sink our designated balls into the pockets until only the eight ball is left.” He pointed to the black one with his stick.

“Okay. When is it a new turn?”

“When one of us misses.” He took aim at another solid ball.

And another.

And another.

“Am I getting hustled?”

He grinned over his shoulder. “Know where swim team goes after meets? A pizza parlor with a pool table.”

“Snake! Good thing there’s no wager.”

Then he tried a trickier shot of sinking two balls and the white one followed them. “Dammit.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Your turn.” He fished out the white ball and set it on the table in line with one of my striped ones. “Take your time and try to hit the center of the ball.”

I laid my stick on the table and attempted to guide it.

“No.” Sam leaned over me and grabbed my hand. Body all over my back! “Like this.”

The contact was there and gone, but with my heart attempting to escape my chest, my aim was way off and the white ball made contact with nothing.

“You’ll get it next time.”

“You startled me on purpose.”

“I was trying to help you.” He bent over, aimed his stick, and this time sunk two at a time without the scratch.

Not without a competitive streak, I focused on his form for playing.

When he finally missed again, I was several balls behind.

This time, I copied what I watched him do and stared at my target. “Ha! See?”

“Keep going,” he said, smiling. He stood at the opposite end, his stick upright as if he might lean on it, and looked so damn handsome.

My heart lurched again.

There was no one in this room but him.

Concentrate, Kate.

Tearing my eyes from temptation, I prepared to sink my next point.

This game wasn’t that difficult with the right hand placement on the stick. Soon, I only had one ball more than Sam did. I aimed…

“You’re doing great,” he suddenly said next to my head. I yelped and sent the white ball in a wild direction.

“That’s cheating!”

He was laughing at me. “I’m sorry. You were just taking it so seriously; I had to see if you’d break. Wish I had a video camera. That was hilarious.”

I slugged his bicep. “Jerk!”

He held his hands up as a shield against my fists. “Want a do-over?”

“No.” I needed a break from my hormones soaring out of control. I picked up the stuffed animals and said, “I need a drink.”

Then wove through the crowd to lose him.

“Kate!” he called.

I kept going until I found the ladies’ restroom.

My face was flushed in the mirror.

There was a bench in the back. I plopped down on it and took in slow breaths to calm my nerves. Maybe it was good we wouldn’t see each other every day anymore. I needed distance to make room in my heart to find the person of my future.

A stall door unlatched, then a girl came out. Debbie, the ASB vice-president. “Oh, you won prizes! I was in charge of arranging the games, you know.”

“Good for you, Debbie.”

One of her flaws? She couldn’t hear sarcasm.

“Thank you! Happy Graduation, Kate!”

Then I was alone again, or at least, not seeing any other girls. I didn’t check for feet.

But I couldn’t hide in here forever. It was not my party so I could not cry if I wanted to.

I deposited the toys with the coat check person, then reentered the dance floor.