SEVEN

 

H O M E C O M I N G,  L A S T   Y E A R

 

IT’S CRAZY HOW much has changed in a year. I spent last year's homecoming teasing Cam about being Sophomore prince, and making up excuses why I couldn't go to the dance. Now, I'm waiting for Robin to pick me up, and my dad is actually giving me the time of day.

I run my hands down the short skirt of my navy blue dress for the hundredth time, the material so alien to a girl more accustomed to cotton and denim than fancy silks. My brunette hair still has some faint strawberry blonde highlights, courtesy of the never-quite-departed summer sun, making the effect a pretty auburn. Pretty. It’s not something I’m used to, but the truth is, pretty is how Robin makes me feel.

Mom has freshened up my makeup for me and lectured me about being responsible for the tenth time since Robin first started taking me out a few weeks ago. We've been on a few dates since then - dinner, movies - all perfectly innocent stuff, all of which culminated in romantic make-out sessions. But he hasn't pressured me for anything more, and I'm grateful for it.

I like him, I really do, but I'm just not ready to move any faster than we already are, and the good news is Robin seems just fine with that. It's almost as if my inexperience is part of the reason he likes me, and he's being respectful of it. We haven't talked about being exclusive - Lord knows I haven't sourced the courage to bring it up - but I really don't think he's been seeing anyone else. He certainly hasn't been taking any other girls out to dinners or movies, or I'd have heard about it - small town and all.

Robin asking me to homecoming was a big deal. Cam goes stag every year. He doesn't want to go with one of his hookup girls, even as friends, for fear of giving them the wrong idea, and since I've always refused his offer to go together as friends, he goes alone. But from what I hear, he usually doesn't leave alone.

Last week I noticed Maddie Stern, who'd attended every homecoming with Robin since their freshmen year, scowling at me in the halls. It was that day, after practice, while I was trying to figure out my algebra homework while waiting for Cam to drive us home, that Robin made a big show of surprising me with pink roses and asking me to go with him. It was decidedly sweet, and all week I've found myself equal parts anxious and eager.

Now that the excitement of the game is over, my nerves have all but dissipated, and I'm just looking forward to dancing with my date. We absolutely destroyed the visiting team. Robin threw four touchdowns, three of which were caught by Cam, and no one cheered louder than me. Except maybe my dad and Mayor Forbes.

When the game ended it was like a scene out of a movie - with the team lifting the heroic quarterback up on their shoulders to celebrate the resounding win in his last hometown homecoming game. But after just a minute or so, Robin jumped down and his gaze zeroed in to where I was hanging back on the sidelines, smiling and cheering. He made a beeline for me, picked me up and kissed me hard, right in front of everyone. It was my first public display of affection, and it positively melted me. Robin was proud that he was dating me, and in this monumental moment in his life, it was me he wanted to share it with. I smile again at the memory of it.

When the doorbell rings, my dad gets to it first, and I obediently hang back as he dotes on Robin and discusses the highlights of the game. Robin thanks him and politely excuses himself from the conversation to greet me. He brushes his lips chastely over my knuckles and I blush as Robin tells my dad he won't have me out too late - not that my father cares - before leading me to his car and opening my door for me. The perfect gentleman.

****

 

The dance is fun, but it turns out Robin doesn't really dance. We mostly hang out and chat with his friends while he keeps a possessive hand on me at all times - around my waist, my shoulders, or at the small of my back.

Predictably, he and Maddie are named Homecoming King and Queen, and I clap for him and resign to hang back while the rest of the court is announced and they all dance. Cam is announced as Junior prince, and he nonchalantly hops up onto the stage and takes his crown without enthusiasm. I clap even louder.  

I'm shocked beyond measure when they announce the Junior Princess and my name is called. At first, I just start my cursory clap and don't even realize it's for me until Emmers and Courtney start pushing me toward the stage. As shock subsides, anxiety registers. Lacey is supposed to be princess, and I worry she'll be angry with me. I seek her out before I make my way to the stage, finding her just a few yards away. I offer her an apologetic half-smile, but she's grinning at me, and though it doesn't reach her eyes, I know she's trying.

"Hey, it's better than losin' to Missy fuckin' Potter," she whispers, and I smile at her in gratitude.

The court dance begins, and I'm comfortably dancing with Cam, my prince, but I can't stop myself from peeking over at the king with his queen, and thinking how good they look together. No wonder Maddie was practically snarling at me in the halls all week. But Robin isn't looking at me. He's glaring at Cam, who, with his arms slung casually around my waist, doesn't even notice. It's only a minute into the dance that Robin taps Cam on the shoulder and asks to cut in. Cam searches me for my okay, which I give wordlessly, and he shrugs and walks over to an affronted Maddie, and shoots her a wicked smile . She accepts Cam's offer to dance with him instead, her blush betraying her appreciation. But, of course, Cam is no consolation prize, and Maddie doesn't so much as glance at Robin or me for the rest of the night.

****

 

The night is winding down, and I excuse myself from the girls to ask Robin when he wants to leave when Cam grabs my elbow. "You're ridin' home with me," he says into my ear.

"What do you mean? I can't."

"Forbes has been sippin' out of a flask all night. You're not gettin' in a car with him."

Shit. Has he?

I saw his friend Tommy offer him a drink earlier, and he took it, and then another after the court dance, but I thought it was just the two. But now that Cam's mentioned it, Robin has had whiskey on his breath all night.

Suddenly I'm anxious as hell. I can't let him drive me home, I know better than that, and more importantly, Cam would never allow it. But I can't tell Robin I'm leaving with Cam - that'd never fly. And I can't let Robin drive at all if he's been drinking like Cam says.

"I'll take care of it," I murmur, and make to head over to where Robin is standing in the corner of the gym with his buddies.

Cam doesn't release my elbow. "You won't get in the car with him." It isn't a question.

I nod. I won't, but I don't know how Robin's going to react. I've never questioned him before, and our relationship - if it even is that - is still so new an fragile. I'm not his girlfriend, I don't think, so I'm not sure I have the right to dictate to him when he's had too much to drive.

Still, I don't really have a choice.

I approach him gingerly, and can now easily see the shine in his eyes, the sloppy slant to his grin. Robin's been drinking plenty, and I can't help but wonder when?

"There she is," he announces. He grabs my hand and pulls me through the door to the boys locker room, now completely deserted.

Before I can even open my mouth to speak, I'm pushed back into the row of lockers and his mouth covers mine. His kiss is harder than usual - more aggressive and less sweet. His lips steal down my neck, and for the first time, his hands don't stay in their safe zones. One moves up over my shirt to my chest, so I grab it, and try to push it back down. He obeys, but too much, and it continues down and around back to grab my ass. I reach back and push it away again.

"Rob," I try to get his attention, but he doesn't relent. His hands keep exploring, and anxiety bursts in my belly, heavy and foreboding. "Robin, please," I whisper, desperate for him to back off.

And with a frustrated groan, he does.

"Come on, sweetheart, I just wanna touch you a little. You're so damn gorgeous," he murmurs as his lips find my neck again, but his hands are finally behaving. "God, how's a man supposed to behave himself?"

I push him back - perhaps a little harder than necessary - sending him stumbling a step before he regains his balance and his eyes finally focus on mine.

Robin sighs with resignation. "Alright sweetheart, let's get you home."  He takes my hand to lead me outside.

I  hesitate. "Rob..."

His eyes light up, but before he can mistake my hesitation as indecision as to how far I'm willing to go right now - which it most definitely is not - I explain. "You've been drinkin'..."

His eyes narrow. "So?" He doesn't deny it, and I can tell he thinks I'm being judgmental.

"So, I think you should just let Cam drive us home. He can drop you off and then take me home."

For a long moment Robin just glares at me. He steps forward, stealing the small space between us, and smirks sloppily. "You worried about me, sweetheart?" he whispers.

I nod, because it's the truth.

Robin smiles in earnest, as if I've both surprised and pleased him. He tucks a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. "Foster ain't takin' my date home for me. How about you drive me and then take my car home. I'll have Lace drive me to your place tomorrow, and I can take you to lunch to thank you for being such a thoughtful, sweet, gorgeous girl." He pecks me chastely on the lips.

My grin is impossible to suppress. He's being so reasonable. And sweet. And I know for a fact he never lets anyone drive his car. Everyone knows it, in fact. He loves it too much.

"You'll let me drive your car?"

His drunken sloppy grin is actually adorable. "I think I will, darlin'."