and I found myself wishing I could joke like that with Jonathan. “I should probably go find my date. You guys seen Jonathan anywhere?”
Greg’s smile fell away. He and Heather exchanged a look I couldn’t see well enough to read.
“What?”
“It’s nothing, okay?” Heather said.
“Tell me!” My stomach turned. I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
“I saw Jonathan’s car at Missy’s last night,” Greg said. “After the game.”
“Missy?” My heartbeat quickened as jealousy pumped through my veins. “He was with Missy last night?”
“He could’ve just been giving her a ride home,” Greg said.
“Or not. If I were you, I’d go confront him.” Heather frowned at Greg. “What?”
“You should just forget him,” Greg said. “Come sit with us.”
“He’s her date,” Heather argued. “He at least owes her an explanation.”
Yes. He did. I looked around. “Where is he?”
“Whatever.” Greg sighed. “You two go search for Zeus, the king of all that is deceptive and fake. I’m going to get a table. Try Mount Olympus,” he yelled as he left, “or the Underworld, with Hades.”
“I don’t see him; try the hallway.” Heather hurried after Greg. “Greg, wait!”
I stood in front of the trophy case facing the gym’s double doors. I thought it would be the best vantage point to find Jonathan, but it was too crowded. In a crowd, it’s impossible for me to focus my dots on anything long enough to identify someone.
I moved toward the main foyer and found couples waiting in a long line. When I followed it to the front, I discovered the yearbook staff photographing the homecoming nominees. Jonathan stood front and center, looking fantastic in white shorts and an island-blue, Hawaiian-print button-up. Girls flanked him on either side, but after years of practice, my eyes were quick to spot one in particular. Long blond hair. Doe eyes. Island-blue bikini top. Island-blue skirt that tied at the hip.
Island blue.
I flicked back to Jonathan. He and Missy matched. A little too perfectly. As if they’d coordinated their outfits. Missy stood below him, head tilted up, skin glowing as though she’d just stepped off the beach, while he smiled down, eyes locked on hers, hand brushing her hair from her face.
That familiar ache of envy caught my breath.
“Have you been to a beach before?” Tricia was pulling her cloak off a few feet away. She handed it to the coat check girl and walked over to me. “Only losers wear black.” Grass skirt. Bikini top. Even Tricia blended in tonight.
I wasn’t in the mood for her insults. I shoved past her and into the bathroom. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. Jonathan didn’t matter. I didn’t like him that much anyway, right? I winced at my reflection. I looked like Rob Zombie at a luau. Who was I kidding? It
did
matter. Jonathan liked me. He called me Beautiful. He made me feel important, as if I belonged. And
I
was his date, not Missy. I headed back out to claim him.
“Hey, it’s about time!” Jonathan said when I walked out. He was standing with Liz Cobler and some others. “You have to pee so badly you couldn’t say hi?”
“Oh . . .” He was copping attitude with
me?
He was the one drooling all over Miss Island Blue! “I didn’t think you saw me—”
“You were looking right at us,” Liz said.
“Sorry, I was . . . distracted . . . by Tricia.”
“That freak!” Liz snorted. “God, did she wear her cape?”
“See?” Jonathan slipped his arm around me before I could respond to Liz. “I knew she wouldn’t dis me.” He kissed me—in front of them all—and then gave me that brilliant smile of his. “So, where’s your bikini, Beautiful?”
The way he kissed me, the way he stood up for me, telling them he knew me—he made me feel wanted and liked and . . . I couldn’t ruin that. I couldn’t ask about Missy. “Too cold for swimsuits.” I kissed him back. “Can we go dance?”
“Sure.” He
Greg’s smile fell away. He and Heather exchanged a look I couldn’t see well enough to read.
“What?”
“It’s nothing, okay?” Heather said.
“Tell me!” My stomach turned. I knew I wasn’t going to like whatever it was.
“I saw Jonathan’s car at Missy’s last night,” Greg said. “After the game.”
“Missy?” My heartbeat quickened as jealousy pumped through my veins. “He was with Missy last night?”
“He could’ve just been giving her a ride home,” Greg said.
“Or not. If I were you, I’d go confront him.” Heather frowned at Greg. “What?”
“You should just forget him,” Greg said. “Come sit with us.”
“He’s her date,” Heather argued. “He at least owes her an explanation.”
Yes. He did. I looked around. “Where is he?”
“Whatever.” Greg sighed. “You two go search for Zeus, the king of all that is deceptive and fake. I’m going to get a table. Try Mount Olympus,” he yelled as he left, “or the Underworld, with Hades.”
“I don’t see him; try the hallway.” Heather hurried after Greg. “Greg, wait!”
I stood in front of the trophy case facing the gym’s double doors. I thought it would be the best vantage point to find Jonathan, but it was too crowded. In a crowd, it’s impossible for me to focus my dots on anything long enough to identify someone.
I moved toward the main foyer and found couples waiting in a long line. When I followed it to the front, I discovered the yearbook staff photographing the homecoming nominees. Jonathan stood front and center, looking fantastic in white shorts and an island-blue, Hawaiian-print button-up. Girls flanked him on either side, but after years of practice, my eyes were quick to spot one in particular. Long blond hair. Doe eyes. Island-blue bikini top. Island-blue skirt that tied at the hip.
Island blue.
I flicked back to Jonathan. He and Missy matched. A little too perfectly. As if they’d coordinated their outfits. Missy stood below him, head tilted up, skin glowing as though she’d just stepped off the beach, while he smiled down, eyes locked on hers, hand brushing her hair from her face.
That familiar ache of envy caught my breath.
“Have you been to a beach before?” Tricia was pulling her cloak off a few feet away. She handed it to the coat check girl and walked over to me. “Only losers wear black.” Grass skirt. Bikini top. Even Tricia blended in tonight.
I wasn’t in the mood for her insults. I shoved past her and into the bathroom. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter. Jonathan didn’t matter. I didn’t like him that much anyway, right? I winced at my reflection. I looked like Rob Zombie at a luau. Who was I kidding? It
did
matter. Jonathan liked me. He called me Beautiful. He made me feel important, as if I belonged. And
I
was his date, not Missy. I headed back out to claim him.
“Hey, it’s about time!” Jonathan said when I walked out. He was standing with Liz Cobler and some others. “You have to pee so badly you couldn’t say hi?”
“Oh . . .” He was copping attitude with
me?
He was the one drooling all over Miss Island Blue! “I didn’t think you saw me—”
“You were looking right at us,” Liz said.
“Sorry, I was . . . distracted . . . by Tricia.”
“That freak!” Liz snorted. “God, did she wear her cape?”
“See?” Jonathan slipped his arm around me before I could respond to Liz. “I knew she wouldn’t dis me.” He kissed me—in front of them all—and then gave me that brilliant smile of his. “So, where’s your bikini, Beautiful?”
The way he kissed me, the way he stood up for me, telling them he knew me—he made me feel wanted and liked and . . . I couldn’t ruin that. I couldn’t ask about Missy. “Too cold for swimsuits.” I kissed him back. “Can we go dance?”
“Sure.” He
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