CHAPTER TWELVE
April 2003
“You look so pretty, Summer,” Carolyn Valentine said to her daughter’s reflection in the mirror.
“Thanks, Mama,” Summer said, staring back at the girl in the mirror. She couldn’t believe how good she looked. Seriously. How could a little makeup and some highlights in her hair make her glow? Though she’d lost only seven pounds, she looked thinner.
The size-twelve cerulean dress fit her perfectly and sat slightly off her shoulders with small seed pearls dotting the placard below her breasts. The cut hid the slight pooch of her tummy and fell like a Grecian waterfall to her ankles. A cluster of pearls and rhinestones on the strappy sandals just matched the ones on the placard. Half of her hair was twisted into a knot with a small beehive bump and the rest fell in pretty curls to brush her neck. Her eye makeup made her look slightly like Cleopatra, but her soft, pink lips kept it from being over the top. Her mother had splurged on some chandelier earrings that felt too heavy but looked perfect.
“Wowsa,” her dad said from the doorway of her bedroom. “You look . . . you know, I’m not sure I want to let that punk waiting downstairs take you to the prom.”
“Hunt’s here already?” Summer asked, her nerves amping.
“Yep, him and two others out in a limo on the street. They’ve been posing for pics on the hood of the car. The driver is taking pictures with one of the kids’ flip phones. Can’t believe those kids have cell phones. And a limo.”
“A limo?” Summer repeated, swallowing hard. Suddenly prom felt bigger than what it was. She stood here sparkling in her mirror, looking strangely pretty, and downstairs her date awaited her. She’d never dreamed she’d be going to prom with a popular guy . . . with popular kids. A sweet longing for pajamas and her recorded copies of Gilmore Girls emerged. She wasn’t the girl staring back in the mirror. She was plain ol’ nerdy Summer pretending to be something she wasn’t.
Still, Rhett was in the limo, and that was a game changer.
Because she wanted to please him, even if she knew she was merely a means to a party for the senior class. They were using her, but even so, she couldn’t stop wanting to be near Rhett. She was a compass. He was a pole. She turned toward him.
Summer supposed she shouldn’t be thinking about Rhett when she had a date with Hunt McCroy, but over the past two weeks, she’d fallen even harder for her study buddy. She’d told herself not to, but he made her heart trip every time she looked at him.
“Mom, where’s the boutonniere? You picked it up, didn’t you?”
Her mother patted an errant strand of Summer’s hair. “Relax. It’s on the table.”
Maisie stuck her head under their dad’s arm. “There’s a boy downstairs. Oh, Sum, you look pretty. Like a movie star.”
Summer moved toward the doorway and rubbed her sister’s head. “Thanks, kiddo.”
Maisie swatted at her hand. “Don’t.”
Summer tried to calm the butterflies assaulting her tummy. God, she hoped she wouldn’t get diarrhea or something. Who knew being social was so terrifying? Maybe she should have had something to eat instead of skipping lunch so she’d look thinner in her dress. Sucking in a deep breath, she released it. “I’m so nervous, Mama.”
Her father was the one to reach out and brush her temple with a kiss. “Sweetheart, you have no need to be nervous. It’s just a dance. You look incredibly beautiful. That guy down there’s lucky to have you on his arm.”
She bet Hunt wouldn’t think so, though she had to admit, she looked much better than she expected. Maybe he wouldn’t be so ashamed to be with her. Maybe she didn’t look like such a charity case. “I’m pretty sure I can’t look any better than this.”
With that last affirmation, she descended the stairs.
Hunt stood in the middle of her living room, studying the collection of bass that hung on their walls. Her father entered tons of fishing tournaments and loved to display the fruits of his labors, whether it was a bass, a deer, or that one hog that sat in the corner. Summer jokingly called it the “Room of Death,” and she wasn’t far off.
“Hey,” she said, aware that her parents were right behind her.
Hunt turned and his eyes widened. “You look great, Summer.”
Her date looked pretty dang good in his tux, too. Hunt wore a classic tuxedo that had probably never seen a rental. No doubt, he owned one to attend the social events his parents were known to attend in Charleston. They did cotillion and that sort of stuff. Hunt’s bow tie was a pretty shade of blue that almost matched her dress. She wondered how he’d managed to get a matching one so quickly. She supposed rich people had ways. “You look very handsome, Hunt.”
His answering smile looked almost genuine. “Thanks. So, here’s the corsage. My mom picked it out. I hope it matches. You said baby blue, right?”
Technically her dress was cerulean, but close enough. “Right.”
Carolyn brushed past them, grabbing Hunt’s boutonniere off the dining room table. “And here’s yours. I’m Summer’s mom. That’s her dad.” Summer’s mom waved toward her husband.
“I’m going to take a picture of y’all pinning it on,” her father said.
“Sorry,” Summer breathed under her breath to Hunt. “I’ve never gone to a dance before. They’re going to take pictures.”
“Sure,” Hunt said with a smile in his voice. No doubt, her country-bumpkin parents amused him. But she wasn’t denying her mother the chance to revel in Summer’s prom pictures. That’s all her mother had talked about for the last week. Prom this and prom that. Summer was glad it would be over by tomorrow . . . and that her mother hadn’t insisted on going up to the school gym to snap photos like some of the mothers did. Summer had drawn that line early on. Her mother had sulked, but she’d eventually agreed when Summer threatened to call the whole thing off.
After five minutes of awkward pictures, Summer finally eased toward the door. “We have to go, Mom. I’ll be home around midnight.”
“You can stay out longer tonight if you want. It is senior prom,” her mother called.
“I don’t know about—” her father started.
“Hush, Jeremy. She can stay out late tonight,” her mother said, guiding Summer toward the door. Her mother gave a quick wave to Rhett and Graysen, who stood by the limo looking at Graysen’s flip phone. The two looked up, and Summer’s breath caught at how gorgeous they both were. Total golden couple.
Graysen wore a slinky dress of gold that hugged every angle and curve. The bodice molded to her breasts, making them look somehow perfect, and the dress skimmed her taut stomach and the flare of her slim hips before swishing around her feet with a small train. Her hair was piled upon her head, and dangling yellow-diamond earrings twinkled at her ears. Her makeup was flawless, and she looked like she could grace the cover of Seventeen’s Prom edition.
Suddenly Summer felt dowdy, like a fat girl trussed up for slaughter. She’d seen Carrie. Was there a bucket of pig’s blood waiting for her somewhere?
Rhett looked like the man he’d been named after—Rhett Butler. Suavely cutting quite the figure in the black tux that cut at the waist and dropped to a traditional tail in the back, he took her breath away. His burnished hair was coiffed perfectly, and she could swear she saw the twinkle in his blue eyes from the front porch stoop. The angelic opposite of her brooding date.
“Wow, look at our Funny Valentine,” Rhett called, his smile big, making her feel both calm and nervous at the same time.
Graysen clapped her hands. “Oh, Sum, you look so pretty. That dress is perfect on you.”
Summer smiled. “You look gorgeous, Gray.”
Graysen gave her a hug and pulled her against the car. “Take a pic of us, Rhett.”
Rhett took her phone as Summer pasted a smile on her face. “Prettiest girls in this town.”
Graysen beamed. “Yeah, this is what happens when you stop wearing Birkenstocks and hoodies.”
Summer tried to ignore the tug of hurt at Graysen’s words. She liked her Birkenstocks and hoodie. Okay, so maybe she used them like a security blanket, but they were comfortable. And her.
“Can we jet already?” Hunt said, looking impatient. “I’m tired of pictures. Jesus.”
The driver opened the back of the limo with a flourish and the four of them climbed in, Summer being extra careful not to snag her dress on her heels. Her parents had sacrificed to get her this dress and shoes. She wasn’t about to pull the first thread. She double-checked her pretty white rose corsage, too. White roses, looping satin, and little seed pearls. Like her mother, she would let it dry and pack it into her memory box.
“Whew, thank God that’s over,” Hunt said, reaching into the fancy center console and bringing out a bottle of vodka.
“Ooh, let’s do shots,” Graysen said, grabbing two crystal glasses from the gleaming shelf.
Summer’s eyes widened. Hunter had two bottles of vodka on ice along with a six pack of beer.
“Not for me,” Rhett said, grabbing a beer and wrenching it from the plastic holder. He cracked it and lifted it. “A toast to senior prom 2003!”
Graysen handed Summer a glass and Hunt poured a shot of vodka inside. Summer didn’t want vodka. She had never drunk, well, outside of a wine cooler once. Even that had made her light-headed. But she didn’t want to look like a prudish loser, so she clinked her glass against Graysen’s and then Hunt’s.
Hunt grinned like a gator. “Well, well, little Summer knows how to party.”
The blush that covered her face was answer enough, but she murmured, “I’ve drunk before.”
Graysen and Hunt slammed back the shot so Summer did the same.
Dear God, it burned. Bad.
And it was terrible.
She tried not to choke as the liquor burned a path down her throat, but she couldn’t help herself. “Oh God.”
Graysen laughed. “Okay, lightweight.”
Hunt steadied Summer’s glass and poured her another shot. “If you’re going to do it, Valentine, do it right.”
Rhett took the glass from her hand. “Hey, now, let’s not get too loaded before we get to the dance. There could be a Breathalyzer. Save it for the after-party.”
Hunt made a face and took the glass from Rhett, tossing it back. “That’s total bullshit. They say that every year.”
Relief flooded Summer because she hadn’t wanted a second shot of vodka, but she also didn’t want to look scared of drinking. Saying no was a whole lot harder than everyone said. Especially when you were the resident nerd hanging with the cool kids.
The vodka had already warmed her stomach, taking the edge off her nerves. One shot wouldn’t register on a Breathalyzer, would it? She didn’t think so, but she also didn’t want anything to jeopardize her shot at valedictorian. That was her ticket to the school’s two-thousand-dollar alumni scholarship. Bad choices led to bad consequences. She heard those words in her head . . . in her father’s voice.
The limo pulled up to the high school gym, where two huge lanterns perched on the aged stone flanking the entryway. A canopy of colored clothes lined with lights stretched atop the doorway.
“Wow,” Summer said, peering out the window. “Y’all really did a great job.”
“Thank you,” Graysen said. She looked well pleased with herself. “It was my idea. The whole Arabian Nights thing. Wait until you see the inside.”
The driver opened the door and gestured with his hand. “My ladies and gentlemen.”
It all felt so grand—the limo, the flickering lanterns, the sequins on the dresses of the girls streaming into the entry with their tuxedoed dates. Summer paused, lagging behind, enjoying the thrill of prom. Graysen had been right—prom was more than just a dance. It was an experience.
“Oh my Lord, look at Addison Meeker’s dress. Totally the wrong color for her, and that ruffle over her boobs? What the hell was she thinking?” Graysen said, leaning in conspiratorially. Graysen’s breath smelled like mint and alcohol.
“Well, she has a big chest. Sometimes girls who are well-endowed feel like they should cover it up, I guess.” Summer liked Addison, who was at least a DD in cup size. The girl always slumped like she was trying to minimize her assets. Summer felt bad for her.
“That’s true. Come on, time to party,” Graysen said, looping her arm through Summer’s and dragging her toward the steps, where Hunter and Rhett conversed with a few other guys. Everyone was smiling . . . except Mrs. Miller, the vice principal, who was eagle eyeing everyone. At one point the woman leaned close to Hunt and took a deep breath. Was she actually trying to smell alcohol on him? And was there a Breathalyzer?
“Hi, Mrs. Miller,” Summer said, donning the good-student smile she always used around teachers.
“Oh, Summer, don’t you look . . . different.”
Summer’s face must have reflected her confusion.
“Oh no, dear. You look beautiful. I didn’t mean you didn’t. Just not like yourself. And who are you here with?” Mrs. Miller looked around, her gaze skipping over Rhett and Hunt and going out to the space beyond. “Or are you here alone?”
“No. I’m here with Hunt,” Summer said, nodding toward her date, who seemed to be deep in a conversation about someone’s truck and a fight after a baseball game. He glanced over at Summer and smiled, acknowledging her perusal.
“Hunter McCroy?” Mrs. Miller said. The incredulousness in the older woman’s voice was both hurtful and amusing.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Huh,” was all Mrs. Miller said before taking the group’s tickets and telling everyone how nice they looked. Then the four of them walked into the draped tunnel covered in twinkling lights that led to the darkened gym. Just before they entered, Summer glanced at Rhett. The lights glinted off his golden hair, and his strong jaw seemed to invite little kisses along its length. He epitomized gorgeousness. Catching her gaze, he gave her a wink and a smile.
Just like the song her grandmother used to play. A wink and a smile. Dang, if those two things together weren’t a dangerous combination.
Rhett placed his hand on Graysen’s waist and looked down at her. She smiled and Rhett kissed her.
Okay. Slap of reality.
Hunter stood behind her and she could feel him close, smell his cologne. Stop longing for Rhett and pay attention to the guy who awkwardly placed the corsage on your wrist, nerd girl. Rhett belongs to Graysen. You’re with Hunt . . . at least for tonight.
Summer stepped into the noisy gym. Lights crisscrossed above them, holding alternating colored lanterns. Gauzy fabrics covered the collapsed bleachers, and filigreed panels completed the exotic theme. Small tables holding flickering lanterns surrounded the dance floor, where couples were writhing and shaking to the band on the raised platform. No more stinky gym and faded mural of a buccaneer. Instead, the space had been transformed into something magical.
“Whoa, this is incredible,” Summer said, turning a circle.
“I told you,” Graysen said, laughing as she twined her arms around Rhett. Her Boy Wonder smiled down, his gaze adoring.
Summer wanted to gag but instead, she turned to Hunt. “Should we get a table?”
Hunt shrugged. “Yeah, let’s get one in the back.”
Rhett and Graysen headed toward the back right corner. As Summer moved to follow them, Hunt grabbed her elbow. “Hey, put this in your bag. None of the teachers will check you. They’re already all over me.”
He opened his jacket and tapped the top of a pint bottle.
“I’m not sure if I—” Summer stuttered, stepping back.
Hunt pulled her closer. “Come on, Sum. They won’t even think to check you. You’re such a good girl.” His arm twined around her shoulders and he pulled her close, an almost hug.
Hunt smelled expensive, and he radiated warmth beneath his jacket. She’d never been this close to a guy before, outside of her father, and she found it heady. Of course, it was Hunt, a guy who didn’t like her, but his voice was soft and pleading. And he was her date.
“My clutch isn’t that big. I’ll have to take out my lipstick.”
“Good girl.” He smiled, looping his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. “Be cool about it.”
Summer slipped her hand between them, feeling for the bottle. Hunt dropped a kiss on her forehead. It was soft and dry, and it made her slightly tingly.
But you have nothing for Hunt. You don’t like or respect him. Stop being silly over a covert operation. His hands on your back mean nothing. The hot breath he’s blowing against your hair is a ruse.
Still, Hunt was a good-looking guy with a lean body, wavy hair, and expensive cologne. Plus, he had his arms around her . . . and Rhett had his arms around Graysen. Sometimes a gal had to be grateful for what she had at hand rather than what stood several feet away from her . . . in love with another girl.
Hunt wasn’t that bad. In fact, he was a pretty good catch for any girl. Even a discerning geek like Summer.
With her finger and thumb, she twisted open the clasp of her borrowed clutch and jammed the pint bottle inside. “Okay. I got it.”
“Good girl,” Hunt said, releasing her.
She found she missed his arms, but then she shook herself and followed her date to the table farthest from the teachers clustered around the refreshment table. A few other of the popular kids who she knew only from class or the occasional club meeting joined them. A few of the guys eyed her and lifted their eyebrows. Summer jerked her chin up and went to stand by Graysen, who was oohing and aahing over Katie B’s slinky dress and the shoes Ashley Goodwin wore. They were Manolos borrowed from her NYC cousin who was in town for a family event. Summer thought they looked painful and strange, but she nodded when everyone declared them to die for. Then Molly walked up with a swaggering guy in a black tux.
“Hello, everyone, this is Joshie. He’s from Cedarwood Prep in Charleston.” Molly beamed at the boy who stood almost as tall as Hunt. “He plays lacrosse.”
Joshie frowned at the nickname. “It’s just Josh. What’s up?” He held his hand out to Rhett, who took it and gave it a quick shake.
“I’m Rhett. This is Hunt, Shawn, and Jamie.”
Hunt glowered at the guy and didn’t offer his hand. He merely jerked his head in acknowledgment. Josh didn’t seem to take offense. Instead he surveyed the gym. “Been a while since I’ve been to a dance in a gym. I’m digging the old-school vibe. Cedarwood’s is held at a downtown hotel. Which makes it convenient.”
He didn’t elaborate, but Summer assumed he meant the hotel was centrally located. Or maybe he was thinking about the minibar in each room? Or the queen-size beds? She wasn’t really sure. Maybe all three.
“Prom in this gym is a tradition,” Hunt muttered, crossing his arms. He looked defensive. Pissed. Kinda hotter than normal, and at that moment Summer was glad she’d said yes to prom. Even if he’d used his soft brown eyes and pretty words to get her to hide liquor in her purse.
Molly narrowed her eyes and then turned to Graysen. “You look pretty, Gray. The dress is perfect.”
Graysen smiled, like the queen bee Nessa had dubbed her. “You, too, Molly.”
Molly turned her attention to Summer. “Wow, you look different. I didn’t know you even wore dresses.”
Harsh. “Thank you, Molly. I actually have another in my closet. Hanging right next to my power pantsuits.”
Molly’s lip curled into a pseudosmile. “And you tell jokes. Winner, winner, chicken dinner, Hunt.”
Hunt took Summer’s hand and pulled her to him. Then he patted her rump and eyed her boobs. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.”
Summer knew her eyes were googly but Molly didn’t seem to notice as she sniffed, took Josh’s arm, and tugged him toward the dance floor. “Come on, Joshie. I want to dance.” She looked back at Hunt. “I want to feel your arms around me.”
Hunt’s body tightened beside her and she felt his anger.
“Don’t worry about it, man,” Rhett said, sinking onto a chair and pulling Graysen onto his lap. “She’s trying to goad you. Ignore her and pay attention to your date. And the way she fills that dress out.”
Rhett winked at Summer.
Hunt dropped his arm from around her waist and sat down next to Rhett. “Yeah. Whatever. Shawn, you and Jamie go grab some punch. I’ll hook you up. Bring that purse over here, Summer.”
He patted the chair next to him as his minions went off to do as he bid.
Summer surveyed the dance floor. Molly had disappeared into the crowd with her prep-school trophy. Out of sight, out of Hunt’s mind. She hoped.
Just as she set her purse between her and Hunt, she caught Nessa coming toward her with her geeky clarinet player in tow. Nessa wore a fitted bustier with satin ribbons that streamed down and a tulle skirt. She’d paired a glittery pair of black Chucks with the ensemble, making her look a bit like a deranged ballerina on the run. The look was fashion-forward, cool, and very Nessa.
But obviously Graysen didn’t think so because the face she made when Nessa parked her hip on the table and studied Summer sitting beside Hunt was almost comical.
“Wowie, wow, wow, look at you. Are you showing shoulder, Summertime?” Nessa drawled, her green eyes twinkling in the low lantern light.
“Who are you?” Hunt asked.
Nessa delivered a withering glance at Summer’s date. “Your worst nightmare, Romeo.”
Hunt did his glower thing and then rose. “I’m going to get punch.”
“Thought Jamie and Shawn were fetching your refreshments.” Rhett’s voice held laughter.
“I need some air. I’ll be back, Summer.” He tossed her a backward glance before drifting toward the two tables holding iced cookies and stacks of punch glasses.
Well, at least he remembered his manners.
“You look cute, Nessa,” Summer said, leaning over to say hello to her date, who looked appalled as he stood there with all the jocks.
Nessa grinned like a naughty nymph. “I’m channeling Madonna meets Tinkerbell.”
“And succeeding,” Summer said, patting the chair Hunt had vacated. “Sit down.”
And this was how prom went. Summer spent the night sipping vodka-laden fruit punch, chatting about dresses with Nessa and the other girls, and making one appearance on the dance floor after Graysen insisted that Hunter dance with her. Summer would give the magical entrance to prom a 9.5, the actual dance a 4.5, and the slow dance with Hunt a firm 6.7 only because he didn’t step on her feet and didn’t look at Molly dancing with Josh more than ten times. So when they finally crowned Rhett and Graysen prom king and queen, respectively—as if everyone didn’t already know they’d be the bejeweled monarchy of Mangham High—and Hunt downed the last of the contraband booze, Summer was happy to see the back end of “Arabian Nights.”
“Time to party,” Graysen crowed as they piled into the limo, each of them listing slightly more than when they had first emerged at the gym.
Summer’s thighs felt oddly heavy and warm. Her head swam a bit, and she had the absurd inclination to giggle. Maybe drinking vodka and beer and whatever else Hunt had in his liquor cabinet at the beach house wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Liquid courage, that’s what they called booze, and Summer understood why. She felt free . . . and pretty . . . and young. Ready to have some fun and be normal. Not nerdy and lonely and . . .
Rhett pulled Graysen into his lap and kissed her as the limo pulled away from the curb. Graysen wound her arms around Rhett and shifted so she fell onto the soft leather seat, pulling Rhett with her. They were all hands, legs, and lips.
Summer glanced over at Hunt. He cough-laughed before saying, “Get a room.”
Rhett and Graysen both laughed, but they didn’t stop making out.
Hunt shook his head, poured a shot of vodka, and tossed it back. Then he grabbed Summer’s hand and jerked her toward him. Not expecting him to pull her toward him, Summer sort of fell into him. Hunt smiled and said, “When in Rome.”
She didn’t have time to think before Hunt’s mouth covered hers. Hunt took advantage of the gasp she issued, his tongue invading as his hand came up to clasp her head and hold her to him.
Summer didn’t know what a good kiss was because she’d never had the pleasure . . . or the displeasure. Either one. But Hunt’s mouth on hers wasn’t unpleasant. He tasted like Big Red gum and medicine, and she liked the way he curled an arm around her, bringing her breasts to the hardness of his chest. Just like in the Jude Deveraux books she’d read. Skin on skin, lips on lips, desire curling around her. The whole thing was strangely intoxicating. Or maybe she was intoxicated from the spiked prom punch and it felt better than what it should.
Because in her awakened a hunger for something. For being normal. For kissing a guy. For Hunt McCroy.
The least likely boy.
“Well, look at that. Our good girl may not be so good after all,” Graysen said, interrupting Summer’s first kiss.
Hunt ripped his lips from hers. “Well, I’m just the guy to teach her how to be a little bad.”
“Yeah, you are,” Graysen said, reaching for a beer. “Hope you have more booze at your house. You only live once.”
Summer lifted her fingers to her lips. Her first kiss and it had been with the superpopular, not-so-nice star pitcher. Who would have thought Summer had it in her? Maybe Hunt was right. Maybe she needed a guy to teach her to be a little bad.
But then her gaze met Rhett’s. A question lingered in the depths of his baby blues. Did she want this?
Summer licked her lips and pressed the material of her dress to her thighs. Maybe she was in over her head? Kissing Hunt was a bad idea. Drinking too much was an even worse idea. She couldn’t do something stupid. She didn’t even like Hunt.
But just as she had that thought, Graysen slid back into Rhett’s lap and jerked his head toward hers.
Right.
Exactly so.
Summer placed her hand in Hunt’s and gave him a smile. He smiled back.
Exactly so.