Connor

 

I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous to pick up a date. I’m pretty sure I never have been. But walking up to Allie’s front door, I’m sweating like I’m playing the biggest game of my life, and maybe I am. Taking a deep breath, I try to slow my nervous breathing and calm my racing heart. What is wrong with me? This is Allie we’re talking about here. My best friend. I’ve literally known her since the day she was born. Come on, man, get it together.

Mrs. B answered the door a split second after I rang the bell making me wonder if she’d been watching me sweat it out on her front porch. Probably.

“Connor! Look at you!” Mrs. B’s eyes take me in from head to toe. It might have been a little weird, being checked out by my best friend’s mom like that, but it felt more like it was my own mom giving me a once over to make sure my fly was up and my collar was down. She smiled and nodded her approval. “You look very handsome tonight, Connor,” she said softly and I swear her eyes filled up with tears.

“Thanks, Mrs. B,” I reply, giving her a big bear hug. She is a tiny lady. Allie is just like her. Her hugs give me a warm, nostalgic feeling. This woman is really the only mother I have ever known and it feels so good to have her approval of me. My own parents weren’t even home to take pictures before I came over here.

“Come in the living room,” Mrs. B says, yanking on my jacket sleeve. “I want a picture of you in front of the fireplace.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Allie?” I kinda dig in my heels. I don’t need a picture of just me, do I?

“I want one of just you. For your scrapbook.”

Wait. What? Mrs. B. has a scrapbook? For me? My surprise must have been pretty plain on my face, because she says, “Oh, don’t look so surprised. I had to do something with all the pictures I’ve taken of you and Allie over the years.”

Huh. Well, I guess that makes sense. It’s kinda sweet to know someone had been documenting my life all these years, because god only knows my own parents haven’t.

So, I pose in front of the fireplace feeling awkward, but strangely pleased because it’s just so normal to feel awkward with a parent taking a silly photo in front of the fireplace.

“Here comes Allie,” Mrs. B says as the sound of Allie’s footsteps coming down the stairs reaches us.

I want to move from my spot by the fireplace, but for some reason I’m frozen to the carpet beneath me. My heart threatens to beat out of my chest as I wait, nervous with anticipation for Allie to round the corner. Mrs. B sees her first from her place closer to the stairs and she beams at the sight.

“Oh, honey. You look beautiful,” Mrs. B breathes, her voice catching, as she clutches her hands under her chin. Are those tears in her eyes? What is with her tonight? And then I don’t have to wonder. I can’t. Because my brain has ceased to have any conscious thought.

Allie.

She’s stunning. I wish my feet weren’t still cemented to the carpet, because I want to go to her and take her in my arms and tell her for the next few hours or years how beautiful she is. She’s looking at me nervously. Waiting for me to say something. But what? My brain still isn’t working.

I clear my throat hoping to make a path for actual words here in a second. Ah, here we go.

“Al,” I croak. Dang. Not cool. I clear my throat again. “You look...beautiful.” And she smiles. And her smile works like a jackhammer on the cement holding my feet to the ground so I can finally walk across the room and take her hands in mine.

“Thanks, Connor. You, too,” she says, then her cheeks turn pink. “I mean- you look nice.” She snaps her eyes closed, embarrassed. I might have laughed but I’m still a little awestruck. Finally, she meets my gaze again and takes a deep breath before saying, “You look very handsome.”

For some reason, her words make me want to puff out my chest a little and I just barely refrain. I’m pretty sure that’s the first compliment Allie’s ever given me on my appearance except for those times she’s razzed me for being arrogant or conceited and I’ll be damned if it didn’t feel good to hear her say it.

“Alright, you two,” Mrs. B says, coming back into the room. I didn’t even realize she’d left. “Let’s get these pictures taken so you can get going to the dance. But first, flowers.”

Right. I fumble a little to open the box holding Allie’s corsage, but accomplish the task without dumping it on the floor. I hold the stretchy ribbon on Allie’s corsage open so she can slip her hand through and then we for her mom. After about fifty pictures, Mrs. B kisses us both on the cheek and sends us on our way.

I borrowed my dad’s car for the dance. I wasn’t sure what Allie’s dress would be like, but I didn’t think she would want to have to hike it up to get into my truck. Plus, my dad’s ride is way fancier, with leather seats and all the upgrades. I’d even pulled it into her driveway so she wouldn’t have to walk through the grass between our houses.

“Wow,” she said, admiring the sleek silver car.

“I know, right? My parents may suck most of the time, but they sure know how to pick awesome cars.” I opened Allie’s door and held her elbow as she lowered herself into the seat, and I know I made the right decision about the car. My truck is nice, but this, this is so much better.

I don’t remember much about the drive to the dance, which is at this ritzy hotel downtown, but I do know I held Allie’s hand and that it was a challenge to keep my eyes on the road because they kept straying back to look at her.

The hotel has complimentary valet parking for Homecoming, so I pulled up to the front and opened her door.

“It feels like the red carpet,” I say, tucking her hand in the crook of my elbow.

“Except no flashing cameras.”

“Yeah, well, they just don’t know what they are missing,” I whisper close to her ear.

“Connor,” she says, blushing.

How did I get so lucky?

 

Allie

 

What an amazing night! Connor has been the perfect date. I worried at first if things would be awkward, we’ve never been on a date like this together before. And this is my first formal school dance period, so I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect. But what I got was 100% of Connor’s attention as we danced, ate snacks from the refreshment table, and cruised the room talking to friends. He hadn’t let go of my hand all night.

Except for right now.

“I’m sorry, Al,” he said, his eyes begging me to understand. And I did.

“It’s okay, Connor. You’re the King and she’s your Queen.” I tried to hide my insecurities by keeping my gaze fixed on the ground between us.

“She is not my Queen,” Connor said, chucking me under the chin with his knuckle, forcing me to meet his earnest gaze. “Never.”

“You know what I mean, Connor.” I need some distance, so I push at his chest a little bit. I know I’m being silly. Connor may be my date tonight, but he isn’t my boyfriend, not my real one anyway. And it’s just a dance, formalities for Homecoming.

He looks at me, still uncertain. Over Connor’s shoulder, I see Kayla approaching and hope my face says I-don’t-care, even though I really do. Connor sighs and turns around.

“There you are, my King,” she smirks at me as she grabs his hand. “This is our dance.”

“I’ll be right back, Allie,” Connor calls over his shoulder, a look of mild panic on his handsome face.

I can only watch for a moment before I feel like I’m going to get sick. Kayla is taking full advantage of her moment in the spotlight (literally) with Connor, trailing her hands over his shoulders and gazing up at him with ridiculous seductive eyes.

“What a skeezy skank!” Eden exclaims sidling up to me just as I’m about to make a run for the nearest bathroom.

“Whatever. It’s just one dance.” At least that’s what I keep telling myself.

“It’s never just a dance with Kayla. The girl has no shame. It won’t matter to her that he’s your date. Probably especially since he’s your date.” Eden’s face is scrunched up like she just a vomit flavored jelly bean from that new board game everyone was playing last Christmas.

“What is she going to do, lay one on him in the middle of the dance floor?” She wouldn’t, would she? Everyone thinks Connor and I are together. I glance back to the dancefloor. They seem as though they are having an involved conversation. Connor’s eyes are trained on Kayla’s face and they are just barely swaying to the music.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” Eden looks over at me, brow hitched. “The question is, what are you going to do about it if she does?”

“What do you mean?” I ask, my palms sweating.

“I mean are you going to fight for your man if you have to?” Eden asks, hands on her hips.

“I really don’t think it’s going to come to that.” Leave it to Eden to be dramatic. Besides, Connor wouldn’t do that to me, even if we are only fake going out.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.”

“What?”

Eden doesn’t answer, just gestures with her head toward the dance floor. The dance floor where Connor- my date, my best friend, Connor- has his lips locked with Kayla’s in a passionate kiss.

So, I do the only thing I can, I run.