Promposal (17 page)

The last bell of the day rang. I quickly stood and gathered my
stuff, then ran out of class. When I got to my locker, I tucked my books in and reached for my stuff to go home.

“Camilla.” The word was spoken so softly I almost didn't hear it over the noise in the hallway.

I sucked in a breath and spun on my heel, eyes locking with Benjamin. He peered down at me and chewed on his lower lip.

Was he . . . nervous?

“Hey,” I replied. I leaned back against the edge of my open locker. My heart was doing the tango in my chest. I could smell him; I missed that scent.

Knock it off.

“How have you been?”

Polite conversation. Okay, I could do that too. “Fine, thank you. And you?”

“Not bad.”

What do you want?
I wanted to yell at him, because my stomach was all tied up in anticipation, anxiety. But I'd learned my lesson from the fight with Zach, so I kept my composure as best I could.

He sighed and leaned toward me, and I swear, for a moment his gaze flicked to my lips. “Have you read
Cyrano de Bergerac
?” he finally asked.

“Um, no?” What the hell? He wanted to resurrect that conversation method, right now, out of nowhere? I stared at him in confusion. “Should I?”

“I think you might find it illuminating.” He crammed his hands in his back pockets and rocked on his heels. “Camilla. I'm . . . sorry.” There was a low rumble as he said my name, and it edged its way through me. I wanted him to keep saying my name.

I wanted so many things.

“I've really enjoyed our talks,” he continued. “And I didn't know how to reinstate them, given . . . you know, what happened.”

“Yeah, I know.” My cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I still feel like an idiot about that. Let's just pretend that didn't happen.”

Benjamin took a step toward me, totally invading my space. This wasn't polite or friendly. This was assertive. He leaned down, and his lips just barely brushed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Don't feel like that. You didn't do anything wrong. I just wish . . . I wish things were different.”

My skin shivered from the contact. I tried so hard to fight my reaction, but I couldn't suppress it. I leaned closer to him, inhaled. God, why did he drive me so crazy? “Me too,” I admitted.

He moved away, and I instantly missed his presence. Everything in my body was humming, aware of him. His eyes twinged with something that looked suspiciously like regret. “I gotta go.”

I nodded, and he walked down the hall toward his locker. I couldn't help but stare at his retreating figure. Lean and strong and confident. No way had I imagined that moment between us.

I grabbed my stuff, closed my locker, and headed to the front doors. As I passed the girls' bathroom, I heard what sounded like a sob.

My feet stopped in place before I was even aware; then I moved to the bathroom door and gingerly opened it. “Hello?”

There was a heavy sniffle, but no one spoke.

I knew I should probably just leave the person alone. But instead, I walked in and closed the door behind me. The stall door at the end was open, and I slowly made my way toward it. “Hey, are you okay?”

Sitting on the toilet, fully clothed, was Karen. She dabbed at her eyes with a wad of toilet paper, and her red hair was a frazzled mess. When she glanced up and saw me, she stiffened. “Oh. Hey. I'm fine, thanks for asking. You can go.”

The sight of makeup streaks down her cheeks made my heart melt. Despite her protests, she wasn't fine. I grabbed a paper towel, wet it, and handed it to her. “Toilet paper sucks for cleaning up crying messes on your face,” I said. “Clumps and stuff, you know.”

She eyed me but took the paper towel and wiped her cheeks with it. “Sorry. I've had a crappy day.”

“I totally understand. I've been having a crappy couple of weeks.”

Karen stood and made her way to the sinks. She splashed water on her face and dried it off with a fresh paper towel, then eyed herself in the mirror. Her sigh was long and heavy. “I'm ready for school to be over.”

“Do you know where you're going in the fall?” I asked, trying to follow her conversation. I wasn't sure what was going on yet, but I decided to let her lead.

She nodded. “I got accepted to a school in Florida.”

“That's great.” I shifted from foot to foot. Should I leave? Maybe she wasn't going to open up, and I was just standing here like an idiot—

“Everything is going so wrong.” Her words were quiet. She kept her gaze on her reflection, and I almost wasn't sure if she was talking to me or to herself. “I don't know how I messed it all up so badly. But I'm being stonewalled by every guy in school. No one will talk to me, much less ask me to prom.”

Wow. My heart squeezed in a twinge of sympathy for her. After all, it could have been me just as easily as her. “Have you talked to David since he asked you?”

She stared at me through the mirror. “Why would I do that?”

I shrugged. “Maybe you'd feel better if you did. You were a little harsh in your answer to him.”

Her nostrils flared.

I held up my hands. “Sorry, not trying to attack you. But it's possible guys are afraid you'd bust their balls like that too.”

“I wouldn't do that, though.” Her eyes flashed alarm.

“How do they know? They saw what happened with David,” I pointed out.

She pursed her lips and clenched the water-spotted counter as she thought. “I didn't think I was that bad. But when I saw the video . . .” Her cringe was almost imperceptible. “I should have been gentler.”

I took a step toward her and leaned my hip against the counter. “There's nothing wrong with going by yourself or with friends to prom. Don't let this ruin the end of your year.” I paused and chewed over my next words. “And you'd probably feel better if you had a conversation with David about what happened. Maybe offered an apology.”

It could also fix her relationship with Ashley. As far as I'd seen, the two girls hadn't hung out together since Ashley had asked David to prom.

“I'll think about it.” With another small sniffle, she turned to me. “Thanks. I know we're not really friends . . . but I appreciate you listening.”

“No problem.” I offered her a small smile, then left the bathroom.

The hall was empty; I adjusted my backpack and left school. Funny enough, my joints weren't feeling that achy anymore. Maybe things were getting a little better.

I
'm going to vomit.”

“You're not going to vomit.” Camilla wrapped her arm around my shoulder and moved me out of traffic toward the edge of the hallway. “It's going to be fine. I promise. Just try to relax.”

My stomach was turning so hard I was sure it would leap out of my mouth. There was no way I was going to get through this without flipping my shit. I'd been a nervous wreck all day, unable to focus or function like, oh, regular human beings. Even my cat had hissed at me when I'd tried to pick her up this morning because my shaking hands had freaked her out.

And earlier, I'd flunked my English quiz because I'd been too busy thinking about what I was going to say to Ethan. Which had only made me even more distressed.

I stared down at my brown paper bag, filled with the bulk of my turkey sandwich and chips left over from lunch. I'd tried to take a bite of the sandwich earlier, but it had stuck in my stomach in a gross lump. Somehow, in my nervousness, I'd forgotten to toss
the bag on my way out of the caf. “But what if I mess it all up and then he gets angry at me and—”

“Honey.” She gripped the ice-cold fingers of my free hand and leaned her head toward me. Sympathy poured from her eyes into mine, and her confidence eased my tension a touch. “Whatever you say is going to come from the heart. You can't mess up how you feel—this isn't a mistake. The words will come, and they will be perfect.”

Ethan had sent me and Camilla a text before lunch saying he was skipping. We both knew why—he was practicing his promposal.

And I was practicing my declaration of love.

“If anyone deserves happiness, it's you. I hope it all goes okay. But no matter what happens, I'm proud of you for this, you know.” Camilla grabbed the lunch bag from me. She gave me a quick hug, and as she pulled back, I saw a hint of tears in her eyes. “Now go. Tell him how you feel. Break a leg.”

“I think that's a theater saying.”

She shrugged. “Then kick some ass. Whatever. You get the idea.”

I gave her a tremulous smile as I walked down the hall toward the library, where Ethan was currently holed up. My pulse slammed in my ears. It was so hard to keep a cool smile on my face and wave and nod at people when I passed by. My limbs felt like they were being controlled by a puppeteer.

I made myself stroll. Drew in several long breaths and exhaled. I was in control. This was my choice, and I needed to do it. For the sake of our friendship and for the sake of my damn sanity.

And if he rejected me after I laid it all on the line, then . . . well, I'd deal with it at that time.

The library had a few students milling around, looking in the stacks for books. I wove through thick slabs of tables and made my way toward the back, where Ethan and I usually hung out whenever we studied in school. As expected, he was there, brown hair flopped over his brow, ankle crossing his thigh, foot twitching. In front of him was a sheet of paper he'd scrawled all over.

Nervousness practically oozed from his body.

“Hey,” I said as I approached. I took a seat at the side of the table, leaving a few feet of space between us.

His eyes lightened a touch, though not as much as they normally did when we hung out. It was apparent he was distracted. “Hey, yourself. How was lunch?”

“Epic, as usual.”

A dimple popped out when he smiled. “Really?”

“No, it was boring as hell. Literally nothing happened except a bunch of chewing.” Well, not for me, since my stomach was too tense for me to eat, but whatever.

We both gave an awkward laugh. Wow. I didn't know who was more uncomfortable right now, me or him. It felt like all my muscles were knotted. Part of me wanted to jump up and run away.

I made myself ask, “So when are you asking him?”

“He's meeting me after school. I told him I needed to borrow some of his class notes.” Ethan stared down at his fingers, which he was fiddling in his lap. He released them and pressed them to his thighs. “I'm going to mess this up.”

An eerie echo of my earlier words to Camilla. I cleared my throat. “Um . . .” This was when I should be offering him advice or telling him it would go fine. In fact, there was still time. I could pretend I'd come here to support him, not to spill my guts.

But that was the coward's way, and I was tired of being a coward.

His brow furrowed, and for the first time since I'd arrived, he seemed to focus on me. “You okay, man?”

“Yes. No.” Crap. I gave a small laugh. “Sorry.”

He dropped his leg and leaned toward me. Those intense eyes pierced mine. Neither one of us spoke, and for one crazy second I was so, so tempted to grab the back of his head and slam his lips against mine.

Would he freak?

Or would he kiss me?

I tried to shake off that mental image and regroup. Do or die time. “I need to talk to you, Ethan. If you have a minute.”

He seemed to sense my seriousness, because he didn't move, just stared hard at me. “Okay.”

“Do you remember back in seventh grade, when we realized both of us were gay?”

He blinked in obvious confusion over what seemed like a random statement. “Yeah. Why?”

I could recall that day so well. It was early fall, and Ethan and I had been standing on the sidelines outside in gym class, waiting for our turn to kick the ball. The tall kid who went before us was the most attractive guy in our whole school, with blue eyes that had long lashes.

Up until that point in our friendship, Ethan and I hadn't discussed homosexuality. Wasn't exactly something young teens got into while working on homework or whatever. Nor had I really had much suspicion that Ethan was gay, too. Until I saw the way he had looked at that guy in gym class. Like he was attracted to him.
A fleeting glimpse, but enough to make me realize I wasn't alone in how I felt about boys.

That day, after school, I'd confessed to Ethan I was gay. He'd told me the same. Of course, a couple of weeks later, we'd both realized the hot blue-eyed guy was a huge douchebag and lost our attraction to him. But our friendship stayed cemented.

“You and I made a pact that day not to hide anything big from each other,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “What, are you going to tell me you like girls now?”

I tried to smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Um, no.” My palms grew damp, and I rubbed them on my thighs. My heart jackhammered in my chest. “Ethan, I'm in love with you.”

My words were almost whispered, but he heard them. He stilled.

A flush crawled up my throat and across my cheeks, and I dropped my attention to my brown loafers. “I've loved you since the first day I met you. I love the way you light up when you hear a song you like. I love how you stick your tongue out when you're deep in thought and studying. I love how you support my music.”

“Joshua.” His voice was choked; I didn't dare look up.

I couldn't seem to stop talking. “I know you have a crush on Noah. And I know he's everything I'm not—he's sexy and confident and multitalented and exotic. But I've been in love with you for years, and for the sake of our friendship, I needed to tell you.”

Silence.

We sat that way for a good minute. I hadn't realized how long a minute could last until I was holding my heart in my hands. Waiting to hear what the guy I loved would say in response to my declaration.