Sitting on the corner of my bed, I carefully bend forward to slip on my silver, sparkling heels. I move my feet around, rolling my ankles until they fit as comfortably as possible, and then I stand up, balancing myself. I love the shoes, I do, but every time I wear them, I’m left suffering from painful blisters. That’s why there’s a stash of Band-Aids in the matching silver clutch bag on my dresser. I reach over to grab it, opening it and sliding in my phone, some cash and some body spray. I’ve been getting ready for the past couple hours, and I enjoy the process, mostly because there’s hardly ever an excuse in Windsor for dressing up nice. I love having the chance to change from a pair of jeans to a dress.
Right as I’m clicking my clutch shut, the doorbell rings, and Mom yells my name from somewhere downstairs. Will’s early. It’s not even 7:30PM yet, so he shouldn’t be here for at least another fifteen minutes, but I don’t panic too much since I’m pretty much ready to go as it is. We’ll have plenty of time for photographs, where I’ll have to do my annual awkward crouch down so that I’m not towering over him.
I gently fetch my glitzy, dangling earrings from my dresser and move over to my full-length mirror, leaning in close as I insert them. I remove my helix piercing while I’m at it, but only for tonight, only for homecoming. And then, taking a step back again, I pause and take a moment to run my eyes over my reflection.
My hair falls over my shoulders in loose, bouncy waves with the front swept to one side and pinned back. I don’t do it very often, but I love wearing my hair curly, all bouncy and shiny. The knee-length chiffon, cobalt-blue dress I’m wearing fits almost perfectly, cinching my waist and making my legs look longer. It’s light and airy, floating around me whenever I move. The bodice is decorated with sparkling, silver beading and diamanté gems—it’s low, heart-shaped, and maybe too revealing, but I like it. My nails are painted to match and my fingers display a small collection of silver rings. My makeup is more natural for a change, so the freckles that dust my nose and cheeks are more noticeable than they usually are. They’re the only thing I would change about myself if I could. I have high, hollowed cheekbones, carefully bronzed and defined to perfection for the occasion, and I like my bright eyes—a deep, warm shade of chocolate just like my mom’s. I have her strong, sharp jawline too.
“Kenzie!” Mom yells again, though this time it’s much louder as she calls up from the foot of the staircase.
I give myself one final glance, and then turn away from the mirror, grabbing the first bottle of perfume from my dresser that comes to hand and spraying myself with a couple spritzes of the luscious, sweet fragrance. I run my fingers through the ends of my hair as I leave my room, making extra sure I don’t trip over my own feet as I step out onto the landing.
Mom is waiting at the bottom of the stairs for me with her dark hair clipped back and an eyebrow teasingly raised. To my surprise, there’s a large box of gorgeous flowers in her arms, so big that she has to tilt her chin up in order to look over them. The budding flowers are a beautiful collection of different shades of pink that spill over the edge of the glittery box they’re in and already I can smell the floral, fresh scent in the air. My heart beats a little faster than it should. I’ve never received flowers before.
“These were left on the porch,” Mom tells me as I descend the stairs, “and I doubt they’re for me.” She smiles wide as I reach her, nodding down at the flowers and urging me to read the small card that’s attached. She peers around the box and her gaze sweeps over me, then she straightens back up and says, “You look gorgeous.” Her eyes are bright with pride but, for a fleeting moment, I see sadness. I know exactly why. This is the last ever time she’ll be watching her daughter head off to the homecoming dance when, in a perfect world, she was supposed to do this four more times with Grace. Mom appreciates these moments a lot more than I think she would have if the circumstances had been different.
I give her a reassuring smile back and tell her, “Thanks, Mom.” I glance down at the flowers again, inhaling their freshness. My cheeks flood with warmth as I pinch the small card between my thumb and forefinger, squinting at the tiny handwriting.
After last night, I’m entirely convinced these flowers are from Jaden and I’m grinning at the thought of the kiss we shared. My skin is still tingling from his touch and my stomach flutters in anticipation for tonight to arrive just so that I can see him again.
However, my heart immediately sinks in my chest when I read the words that have been written:
I’m sorry about last weekend. I’ll wait for you, Kenz. Enjoy the dance. –D
Darren. My smile quickly falters and I squeeze my eyes shut. The gesture is sweet, and I know the flowers must have been expensive, especially for a broke college student like Darren, but it frustrates me all the same. When I open my eyes again, Mom is frowning back at me, confused by my lack of excitement, so I give her a minute shake of my head and then finally take the box from her.
“Darren,” I mumble, and that’s all she needs to know. Rolling my eyes, I shift past her and carry the box of flowers down the hall and into the kitchen, heels clicking against the floor. I slide the flowers onto the counter and stand back, thoughtfully studying them with my arms folded across my chest, the detailing on my dress scratching against my skin.
I know Darren is trying his best, but there is a line and he keeps crossing it. I know he cares about me, and I know just how desperately he wants us to get back together. I keep trying to remind myself that he was a good guy when we were together, and I do appreciate the effort, but it is becoming overwhelming now. I just want to be friends with him and nothing more—I wish he understood that.
The doorbell rings again, echoing down the hall, and it has to be Will this time. I spin around on my heels and make my way back out of the kitchen just as Mom’s swinging open the front door to reveal Will’s enormous grin. He’s standing on the porch, sandy hair perfectly flicked into position just out of his eyes, dressed smartly in his light dress pants and shoes, white shirt neatly pressed and, of course, his blue bow tie.
“You look great, Will!” Mom tells him with a beaming smile, reaching for his arm and gently pulling him inside. She’s already reaching for her cell phone, desperate to take pictures of us together just like the previous three years. “Very handsome.”
“Thank you,” Will says, bowing his head once and reaching up to adjust his bow tie rather dramatically. It’s a couple shades lighter than my dress, but it’s close enough. He smiles goofily at me. “Look at you,” he comments. “Looking good and ready on time!”
“Pictures!” Mom orders, flapping her hands in the air to motion us into position. She’s sober and content, something that rarely ever happens simultaneously, so I let her have her moment of pride.
“Oh God,” Will jokes, feigning despair as he glances up at me. I’m several inches taller than him, but with heels on the height difference is even more noticeable. I like to tease him so I straighten up and prop my elbow on his shoulder, leaning casually against him as Mom snaps some pictures.
We head into the front yard to take our official, Instagram-worthy photos. The lawn is still freshly cut from last weekend, and Will and I take up our position on the grass just in front of his Jeep, with the sun setting just off in the distance to create a warm, golden glow. Will subtly tilts himself up onto his tiptoes and I even more subtly bend down a little so that we don’t look so silly next to one another. Mom takes enough pictures to last a lifetime, sending some over to Dad, who’s out on a job, and then waves us goodbye from the porch with teary eyes.
“So,” Will says as we’re pulling on our seatbelts, “last ever homecoming. Emotional yet?”
“Not really, but ask me again when prom comes around,” I say. He really does look adorable in his bow tie. It’s only a short drive to school and there’s something on my mind that I’m desperate to talk about before we get to the dance, so as Will starts up the engine, I clear my throat and ask, “What was up with Holden last night?”
Will’s smile fades and then he shrugs. “He told me after we left that the Hunters make him uncomfortable. Oh, and he thinks you’re a hypocrite.”
“A hypocrite?”
“Yeah,” Will says, keeping his eyes on the road as he pulls out of my cul-de-sac. “Because you asked us to stay away from them, but now suddenly you’re with them all the time.”
Holden’s right; I did ask them both to stay away from the Hunters because I couldn’t face seeing them. But that was a long time ago, back before I realized that I was wrong, back before I discovered that being around them doesn’t scare me as much as I thought it would. Frowning, I murmur, “Are you kidding me? He’s annoyed about that? I’m allowed to change my mind, and he should be glad now that he doesn’t have to avoid them on my behalf.”
“I know,” Will says. “I’m glad you’re hanging out with them again.” He pauses for a brief moment. “When are you going to tell us what’s actually going on with you and the Hunters? And by the Hunters, I really mean Jaden.” He glances over at me once more, a smirk forming.
My eyes fall to my lap and I gently brush my fingers over the chiffon of my dress. I know my friends aren’t oblivious to what’s going on between Jaden and me, but I still feel nervous to have to admit it.
“I don’t know exactly what’s going on between us yet,” I begin, playing anxiously with my hands, “but I think we’re finally getting back to the place we were in a year ago.” Even just saying it out loud sends relief through me. I never thought this would happen. I never believed I still had a chance with Jaden. I suddenly feel giddy and I bite down on my lower lip in an attempt to hide the smile that’s spreading across my face.
“Damn, oh damn,” Will says after a few seconds, elbowing me across the center console with a teasing grin. “It’s Jenzie: Round Two!”