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She takes my hand. “Let’s go check out the buffet.”
We get in line behind a few people, then work our way down the buffet, filling our plates with food that looks even more mediocre than I thought it would.
Allyssa studies a murky concoction for a moment, then leans into my ear. “What’s that?”
“I don’t know. Which means, keep moving.”
We get to the end where there are desserts and Allyssa perks up. “Mmm. It’s hard to mess up cake, right?”
“You’d think.”
She takes a piece of chocolate cake and I take carrot cake. “I wonder if they hired the people who worked the cafeteria at the high school for this.”
Allyssa laughs. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Besides, you and Mark never ate in the cafeteria. You always took off to get lunch. And left me behind, I might add.”
“We took you once in a while.”
She shakes her head. “I remember once. And I later found out it was because Mark didn’t have any money. I had to pay for his burger.”
I laugh. “Good times.”
15
Allyssa
Linkisunbelievablyhandsomewith his hair cut and shaved face. And I’m pretty sure every woman here is jealous of me. They all wanted him back in high school and they’d all take him now. But for tonight at least, he’s mine. I’m rather enjoying being engaged to Link. And a little part of me—who am I kidding?—a big part of me wishes it was real.
We eat our food, which tastes better than it looks, and Link actually goes back for seconds. Several people come to our table to congratulate us on our engagement and a few of them ask about Mark. My brother played second fiddle to Link in school, but he was fine with that. He had a steady girlfriend through most of high school, so he didn’t have the same appeal as crazy and usually single Link did.
I watch Link eat his second piece of carrot cake. “I think you aren’t having the terrible time you thought you’d have.”
He leans back in his chair. “It’s okay. It’s just weird that some of these people have never moved beyond high school.” He looks around the room at the groups that have formed. “We have the jocks over there keeping an eye on the big screen showing a football game. Over there are the guys who barely graduated, but had a great time all through high school.” He continues to survey the room. “The cheerleaders are huddled up over there. And the nerdy kids are all discussing their entrepreneurial successes over in the corner.”
He is right. All the same cliques have formed. “Except for us. Sitting here in our own clique watching everyone else.”
“We’re just the cliché—the cheerleader and the quarterback.”
As the waitstaff comes to clear away the buffet, a DJ shows up and starts playing music that was popular ten years ago. I really want to dance with Link, but I decide I shouldn’t push it. He’s here, and he’s not complaining about it, so I listen to the music and think about the one time I danced with him.
Mark ended up marrying his high school sweetheart the summer after he and Link graduated. Link was his best man and was two weeks away from heading to boot camp. I was sixteen and really wanted to dance with the boy I’d grown up with, who was suddenly a man about to become a Marine. I’d gotten up the nerve to ask him to join me on the dancefloor, and he agreed. I’m sure to him, he was dancing with his friend’s kid sister. But to me, it was my first dance with a grown man.
After that night, I didn’t see him for three years. By the time he came back home, I was in college working on my prelaw degree, and Mark was divorced. But Link no longer saw me as a kid, and we formed a more adult relationship, helped by the fact our career paths often overlapped.
He still has his arm around me and he looks at me. “I suppose you want to dance.”
“Only if you do. It’s not a requirement of the bet. You showed up and gave me this lovely ring. You did your part.”
He stands and holds out his hand. “I’m sure everyone here would love to see us dance.”
I put my hand in his. “Well, we don’t want to disappoint them.”
He leads me to the dancefloor and we begin to dance. As great as the dance was at Mark’s wedding, this is even better. Link is holding me tight and I’m pretty sure it isn’t just for show. I think maybe he is enjoying dancing with me almost as much as I am enjoying dancing with him.
When the music stops, Link continues to hold me tight and he looks at me. “Should we stay for one more and make those cheerleaders really jealous?”
“I think we should.”
The way his eyes lock with mine and don’t waver. And the way he’s holding me, I feel like something has changed. I’m not sure what. And I’m not sure how I feel about it. But right here and now, it feels good dancing in Link’s arms.
