Three
A sea of black suits and tuxes fell onto each other reaching for one little bit of white satin.
“I can’t look.” I turned and buried my head against John’s shoulder. “Tell me when it’s over.”
Please, please, please, just let it be him, let it be Dale, please…
“I got it!”
That wasn’t Dale’s voice.
My eyes flew open and I saw Steven, one of Matt’s brothers, holding his fist up high in the air—and he was tall, like Matt, so that fist was really high in the air. And still Dale stayed focused on his target. He jostled guys aside to get to Steven.
“We have a winner!” the DJ announced. “If the little lady and the lucky man would step over to the chair please.”
The chair. I looked at it, sitting alone in the middle of the dance floor as the guys started to disperse, slapping Steven on the back and making wisecracks about copping a feel and how high could he go? I took a step toward the chair, glancing over at Dale, and then looked back to the chair. It stood waiting. I felt like I was walking to the electric chair, not a little metal fold-up from the hall’s basement.
“Come on, don’t be shy!” the DJ called. Other girls pressed around me, the ones who hadn’t caught the bouquet, urging me toward the chair. I took another step, looking over at Dale. He was saying something to Steven, who was so tall Steven had to lean down to hear him. Music played. Keep Your Hands to Yourself by the Georgia Satellites was apparently the song choice for copping a feel. Ironic.
“You don’t have to.” Aimee’s voice, behind me. “Really, you don’t.”
But the crowd was gathering, this time near the chair. Everyone wanted to see the show and I was the star.
“Dale,” I called, but it only came out as a squeak. The crowd pushed and pulled me, getting its way. I couldn’t fight the momentum. I managed another, “Dale!” louder this time, but I’d lost sight of him, somewhere behind me.
Then I was sitting on the folding chair, everyone looking at me.
This isn’t happening.
I closed my eyes, wishing it away. How many times had I done that? Sometimes it even worked. My mind flashed back to the last time a man touched me when I hadn’t wanted him to. I had willed it away. Granted, Steven was harmless and I knew he wouldn’t overstep his bounds. He was certainly nothing compared to the stepbeast. I shivered, remembering, trying to unremember everything with my words.
This isn’t happening. This is not happening.
I couldn’t stop shivering like I was cold, but the room was actually warm from all the body heat and the candles on the tables.
“You ready for this?”
I gasped, opening my eyes.
“Dale!”
“Got it.” He grinned, holding up the garter.
I didn’t bother asking how. Matt’s brother had obviously conceded, and the garter—along with the garter-holder’s responsibilities—now rested with Dale. He held it up, stretching it, wiggling his eyebrows and ogling as I slid the hemline of my skirt slowly upward. Everyone was watching, laughing at Dale’s antics. He pulled the garter back like a rubber band, making a show of taking aim, and let it go. It hit my chest and fell into my cleavage.
“Nice hit!” someone called out.
“Now go get it, boy!”
“With your mouth!”
Okay that was enough. I blushed and threw it back to him.
“Are you gonna play with it or are you gonna put it on her?”
All the voices blended together. I couldn’t differentiate one from the other. And I couldn’t focus on anything but Dale on one knee in front of me. It was the proposal stance and my breath caught as he looked up at me, garter in hand. I hadn’t seen him do this since the night Black Diamond won MTV’s Battle of the Bands, the night our lives changed forever. It was also the night he proposed, just like this, on one knee in front of thirty thousand people, holding out a velvet box and asking me to marry him.
I was still wearing the ring. I never took it off.