Prom and Prejudice (9 page)

He grins sheepishly now. “I know; if you’re a Cub Scout, right?”

“No!” I assure him, wishing I hadn’t made a joke. “Who in their right mind does not like s’mores?”

“Here’s the best part,” he says, smile fully restored now. “The chocolate
and
the marshmallows are vegan. The graham crackers, too. I asked at the store and had to take back a box with honey in them.”

“Are you serious? That’s so...” I’m searching for the right word. He might find “sweet” insulting, but that’s exactly what I think. “Thoughtful.”

“I had to go all the way up to Lambton, to Whole Foods, to get them.”

“I told you I’m not a fanatic,” I say as he spears a marshmallow on a metal skewer and holds it over the flames.

“I know. I just wanted you to know that I’ve been paying attention.” He turns to me with a toasted marshmallow, and I squash it onto a graham cracker, then pile a bit of chocolate and another cracker on top. I take a bite, and then hold it out for him, and he eats it out of my hand. “That’s good,” he says.

“If you actually burn the marshmallow, it gets all melty and gooey and it’s even better.”

“You’re the cook,” he says, and he hands me a skewer with a marshmallow on it and we make a couple more before I say, “I think I will stick to the champagne, please.”

“Me too. S’mores seemed less sweet and disgusting when we were kids.”

“Still, it was a wonderful idea,” I say. We curl up on a chaise lounge and I kiss his nose and his ear and his neck and he makes very appreciative noises in the back of his throat that send a thrill up my spine.

“How could you have thought I liked Darien?” he asks quietly. He is holding a few strands of my hair and twining them around his fingers.

“She’s beautiful.”

“Not like you. There is no other girl like you.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

“You should. Even if you always take everything else the wrong way,” he laughs, then says seriously, “Do you know how I feel?”

I look at him from under my lashes because I am not sure what he means. He takes my hand and puts it on his chest.

“Say my name,” he says.

“Michael,” I say, and it sounds like a wish.

“Do you feel that?”

His heart is beating faster.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I like when you say my name.”

So I say it a few more times, in between kisses.

After a long time, he sits up a bit and shakes his head. I’m feeling pretty dizzy myself.

“More champagne?” he asks. I pick up my glass and hand it out for a refill. “Feel free to get drunk. Because you were right on New Year’s Eve—you
are
funny when you’re drunk. Just not funny in the way you think you are.”

“Thanks for reminding me. You just want me to drink because you know what it does to me—if champagne has the same effect as whatever Jeremy made on New Year’s Eve.”

Michael scowls and looks like he might spit on the terrace stones. “I should go let Harry out,” he says.

“Sure. He can join us!” I say, but I feel bad for bringing up Jeremy.

He comes back, with Harry flying over the paving stones ahead of him; the dog is almost as happy to see me as Michael was, bouncing and wagging with a lolling tongue, until Michael gets him to sit down calmly next to our seat.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I was really jealous that night.”

“Really?” I don’t mean to sound coy, but I am pretty surprised.

“You really didn’t know?”

“I can be pretty thick sometimes.” I take his hand and look at him, taking in his dark eyes for a long time. “But I know how you feel now.”

He pulls me against him, and we kiss again, and I am feeling the smooth hard planes of his chest and back and shoulders and I can’t make myself think of anything else at all—as if I would want to.

When we come up for air this time it’s dark and the candles are burning out on the darkening water and the embers of the fire glow mostly white.

“I wonder what time it is,” I say.

“Do you have to go home?”

“At some point. Trey invited us to an after-prom party at his house.”

Michael tries to brush my hair back into place with his hand. “Do you want to go?”

“No,” I say. “I don’t feel like being around anybody else.”

“Me either.”

“Everything is different now, isn’t it?”

“I think so.”

We sit quietly for a while. Harry laps up some water from the pool, wagging his tail.

“My parents will be back soon. They went to a movie in Ashburn,” he says.

“Will they mind that we’re here?”

“No, of course not. Would your parents mind?”

“Well, my mom thinks you are a ‘fine’ young man and my dad likes you because you called him ‘Dr. Barrett’ once. But I didn’t leave a note or anything so I should get home before midnight, I guess.”

He wraps his arms around me and I lean back against him. We look out at the water.

“So do you want to go out on a real date some time?” he asks.

“Like go to a movie? You turned down your chance to do that before,” I laugh.

“I could tell you were mad about that. But did you
really
think we should tag along on one of Tori and Trey’s first dates?”

“That’s why you said ‘no’?”

“Why
else
would I have said ‘no’?”

“At the time I thought it was because I am not Longbourne enough,” I admit.

“Now that is the dumbest thing I think I have ever heard anybody say.”

“It
does
seem pretty stupid now. Still, you could be pretty snotty, ya know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

We hear sounds and turn to see lights go on in the house.

“I should probably go,” I say sadly.

“Come say hi to my parents first.”

I nod and we find Dr. Endicott and his mom in the kitchen. He is making tea and she is looking at a pile of mail on the counter.

“Hello, Georgianna,” she says when we come in. “How are you?”

“Very good, thanks.”

“Is that your bike out front?” Dr. Endicott asks with his usual smile.

“You rode your bike?” Michael seems to find this hilarious for some reason. “Come on, I’ll drive you home. Half the roads between your house and mine don’t have streetlights.”

“It’s nice to see you again, Georgianna,” his parents say as we walk out the door. They seem so nice. Everything seems so nice right now.

“You car is always so clean,” I say as he starts the motor. “At least, it was the other time I was in it.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he laughs.

“And you have the reggae station from Hartford on again.”

“I am surprised you can remember
any
thing from New Year’s Eve.”

“It wasn’t pretty, I admit. But I remember very well sitting outside my house in your car.”

“And here we are again,” he says. He stops the motor but he leaves the radio on.

“But this time is so different,” I say quietly.

“Very different.”

He pulls me into his arms and we kiss through a couple of songs and a few commercials. Then the porch light goes.

“My parents are waiting for my sisters to come home, and probably wondering where I am.”

“I’ll walk you in and say goodnight, if that’s okay.”

I take his hand as we walk up to the porch and through the front door. Dad is in the living room, with his feet up on a threadbare ottoman that used to be my grandmother’s, reading
The Atlantic
.

“Hey, George. And Michael, right?”

“Right, Dr. Barrett,” Michael says with a quick smirk at me, and I hold back a giggle.

Mom comes in from the kitchen then with a glass of chardonnay and her smile radiates at a thousand watts. “Hi, Michael, how
are
you?”

“Just fine, Mrs. Barrett.” He turns to me. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

I nod and we walk to the door, where he gives me a quick kiss and then he is off. I think I finally exhale then.

“He seems nice,” Dad says. “Did you have a good evening?”

“I did. And you?”

“Lovely,” Mom answers for him, and Dad grimaces but says nothing.

“I’m going to get ready for bed. Is anyone else home?”

“Leigh’s upstairs.”

“We don’t expect Cassandra until Labor Day,” Dad grumbles.

“Did Leigh have a good time?”

“I think so,” Mom says. “Go ask her.”

That’s definitely a better alternative to letting Mom ask me all the questions she wants to, so I go upstairs.

Leigh’s lights are out, and I’m relieved. I want to hold on to as much of the night as I can, just for myself. Before I put on my pajamas, I hold the collar of my sweater up to my nose to see if I can still smell Michael on it. I don’t know what kind of soap or detergent he uses, but he smells really good.

Then I climb into bed and replay every detail until I fall asleep.

6 Snark-Free Waters

Michael is showing off but I don’t mind. He executes this amazing flip dive into the Billingsleys’ pool, then knifes through the water effortlessly.

I walk over to him and sit on the tiled rim of the pool, hoisting my legs into the water. Michael wraps an arm around my legs and threatens to tug me in with him. “No!” I laugh. “I want to dry off before we have to go.” He decides then to take my arm and pull me down to his level for a kiss.

“Aaaaawww!” Tori and Trey coo in unison, and I blush a little, but I don’t really care because Michael’s lips are still warm and he tastes of Coke and chlorine, which is more appealing than you would think.

But then, everything seems more appealing to me now. I don’t know how to explain it without it sounding like a huge cliché. Can I say that it’s like the sun came out after a long rainstorm without sounding like a hopelessly inarticulate and unoriginal moron? Or that it’s like I was wandering around in the dark and finally found the light switch? That’s equally pathetic. All I know is everything is different. It’s a whole new world, and I like this one much better.

And for his part, Michael has been a lot less snobby lately. He says he can now see why I thought he was such an insufferable snobhole at first and hates the idea that he gives people the wrong impression. He even suggested a very unexpected movie for our date tonight.

“Are you sure you guys don’t want to come with us?” he asks Trey as he pulls himself up out of the pool and takes the striped beach towel I hand him, then cocks his head from side to side to let the water drain.

Tori turns to me and laughs. “An Iron Man movie? Really? You’re actually going to an action movie, George?”

“Yeah, so?” I say and stick out my lower lip like a stubborn little kid, which makes her laugh harder. She is finding me infinitely amusing these days.

“Trust me,” Michael tells her as he flops down in the last open chaise and grabs a sip of my lemonade. “Georgia is going to like Robert Downey Jr.’s character. Tony Stark should be renamed Tony
Snark
.” I groan at this terrible pun and he looks up and grins at me.

“We’re picking up Shondra and Los in about an hour,” I tell Tori and Trey, “but we could meet you guys there?”

“What do you think?” Trey asks her, and she takes his hand. “Maybe someone
should
chaperone these two.”

I put my arm around Michael’s waist and say, “So we’ll meet you in front of the theater at the mall, okay?”

We grab our towels and say goodbye and Michael drives me home to change for the movie but we pause on the porch steps. He says, “I’m really sorry about that day I said ‘no’ to the movie with Trey and Tori. Really sorry.”

I shake my head, smile, and take a seat on the step, pulling him down with me by one long, tanned arm.

“I am so past that,” I assure him as I place a palm against one of his cheekbones, and he leans into it, then into me, and we kiss until Cassie comes up the walkway to the house and interrupts us.

“Oh my God, you guys, get a room somewhere,” she groans as she steps around us. “What will the neighbors think?”

“I can’t imagine we’re lowering the property value
that
much,” Michael reasons, holding my hand and looking at me with a goofy grin.

“No. In fact, I think we’re elevating it,” I agree, looking and grinning right back at him.

“You two are so gross,” Cassie declares as she bangs the screen door shut.

I think we’re going to be late for the movies.

Stephanie Wardrop

Stephanie Wardrop grew up in Reading, Pennsylvania, a town mostly famous now for having a railroad in the Monopoly board game. Overeducated, with an MA in British and American Lit and a PhD in English, she was lost in academe for many years, teaching writing and literature on Long Island, in Las Vegas, in Colorado, and now in western New England. But she always wanted to be a writer and is thrilled to be able to say that dreams come true at last. She's married with two kids, five cats, and a crested gecko and when she's not teaching, writing, or hanging out with any of those creatures, she loves to bake, to explore, and, of course, read nearly everything she can get her hands on.