“When is prom?”
When she gives me the date, I cringe. It’s at the end of the week. I pull my phone away and open the calendar app to check and see what I have going on this weekend. Thankfully, I’m free and can’t believe what I’m about to do.
“Do you have a dress?”
“Yes, why?” she asks.
“I need to know the color so I can match my bow tie.”
“Noah,” she drags my name out. “I didn’t call and tell you this because I need you to take me to prom. I need to know how to handle my mom because when I tell her, she isn’t going to be very happy. In fact, she may cry and you know how I am when she cries.”
It’s how we all are. Growing up I never knew Katelyn to be a crier until Quinn started high school then she went on this mom kick where everything was documented and he, along with the twins, had to partake in every rite of passage. Thankfully, the age difference between us meant I got off free of having to do anything I didn’t want to, not that my mother didn’t try and force me.
“Peyton, I want to take you to prom. In fact, I’d be honored.”
“No, Noah. People will bug you for your autograph. I don’t want that for you.”
“It’s too late, I already ordered my tux.” It’s a lie, but one that she’ll buy.
“Noah,” she whines. I already know what’s going on in her head. She has held our friendship close to her heart and more so since she arrived at high school and I was in college.
“I want to do this, Peyton.”
“You won’t be mad?” she asks.
“At you? Never in a million years. Be ready for the time of your life.”
“I gotta run.”
“Okay, well goo–”
“Don’t say it, Peyton. It’s our deal, remember?”
“Only because of that stupid song.”
“You love it and we’ll dance to it at prom. See you soon.”
As soon as I hang up I text my mom and tell her I need a tuxedo and to have it at the house for Saturday. Like any other mother, she asks me why and I tell her that I’m coming home to take Peyton to prom. I know for a fact that Peyton won’t tell anyone because she feels like she’s bothering me. Someday, I hope that she realizes that she never is.
I go back to Alex and the two ladies, who I thought would’ve left by now and try to engage in a conversation with them. My mom, dad, and Katelyn are all texting me and instead of being rude and answering them, I toss my phone into my bag so I can’t feel it vibrating.
Alex suggests we all go out and grab dinner, I agree and offer to drive until Alex pulls me aside.
“You take Sabrina. I’m getting vibes from Sadie.”
Of course he is. I pat him on the shoulder. “No problem.”
“Sabrina, looks like you’re riding with me,” I say, much to Alex’s dismay.
“Real smooth, Westbury.”
I flip him off before motioning for Sabrina to follow me out to my SUV. I thought about getting a sports car like a few of my teammates but didn’t feel secure enough in one, plus there is never enough room to carry my stuff. I open the door for her and wait for her to climb in before shutting it and going to the back to put my bag back there. I’m hoping that she’s far enough away that the stench of my gym clothes won’t make her sick.
“Sorry about earlier,” I tell her. “I had to take a call from home.”
“Girlfriend?” she asks, rather unabashedly.
I shake my head. “Not exactly.” It was hard to explain what Peyton was to me because I always felt in limbo with her. We were friends, best friends in fact, but there were times when I wanted more but was too afraid to proceed. It’s not that I thought she’d turn me down, but more so of how Katelyn and Harrison would feel. Our age difference as of right now is a bit much I think socially. I know my agent would have a field day if I started dating an eighteen-year-old so I tell myself I’m going to wait until she’s twenty-one.
“What does that mean?” she asks as I pull out onto the road behind Alex.
“I don’t know. I have always had feelings for this girl I grew up with. They started when I was about fifteen, but she’s much younger than I am and the timing isn’t right.”
“Are you waiting for her?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve dated and had semi-steady relationships, but those women didn’t like her or like that I’m there whenever she needs me. She’s my best friend.” I don’t know why, but I find myself telling this poor woman everything.