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We make our way out to the parking lot. Cindy usually gives Veronica a ride to school, and I’m parked next to her.
“I know you don’t have any, but I say you buy one and wear a teddy on Monday,” Veronica says with a smile.
“What?” I come to a sudden stop, mouth agape.
“For pajama day.”
“What are you talking about?”
Cindy laughs. “V, I don’t think she heard anything after McFanboy had his tongue in her ear.”
“He did not have his tongue …” I can’t help but pause, the idea flickering to life. No, get a hold of yourself, Izzy. “In my ear.”
“Look at her.” Veronica points. “She totally wants to ravage him. Or maybe she wants him to do that to her.”
“Would you two just shut up and tell me what you meant about a teddy.”
“Izzy.” Cindy rolls her eyes. “Monday is the first day of prom court week, and it’s Pajama Day. Everyone on the court has to come to school in some kind of pajamas.”
“Oh, right.” I act like I remember them talking about it at the pep rally, but they’re right. I didn’t hear a thing after Matt’s lips met my ear.
“We’ll come over this weekend and help you decide.”
“Yeah, okay.”
Yup, real danger.
* * *
By the time Monday comes along, I’ve decided on what pajamas I’m going to wear. True to their word, Cindy and Veronica did come over, and both tried to get to me buy a revealing nightgown at the mall. When I vetoed all their choices, they bombarded me with loads of boy shorts and camis. I’m not opposed to those per se because I actually have a few that are super comfortable. But walking around all day at school, in tiny little shorts, didn’t sound like something I wanted to do. In the end, I choose some pajamas that I actually use as pajamas—a pair of old scrub bottoms and a Justice League tank top.
I don’t get much attention from anyone for my pajama choice, other than the usual high fives I’ve been getting from people I barely know. I still want to know about the vote count.
As I’m heading to my second class, I see Sarah and Yvette walking down the hallway, both dressed in skimpy, silk, black laced negligees. I silently thank myself for not succumbing to Veronica’s teddy request.
Woodbridge High doesn’t have a dress code, other than the usual ‘nothing too revealing or provocative’ kind of rules for the girls, but both of their wardrobes certainly cross that line. I’m surprised they got past first period, but then again, they are both the popular girls in school. I’m sure they gave their teacher their best innocent looking expression when they were questioned on their attire, most likely using prom court as an excuse.
Leaving my third period class, I see Sam down the hallway. He’s wearing sweats as he smiles and nods to me. The front of his sweatshirt has a picture of a chessboard. Below the image reads ‘I Got Game’.
I don’t know if he knows he’s the joke vote or not, but Sam’s a smart guy. I’m sure if he didn’t know it at the time, he’s figured it out by now, but he seems to be enjoying himself still. I’m not sure Natalie feels the same. She’s in my second period class and kept complaining about being coupled with Sam, even though we really only had to do a few things with our couple on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday during lunch. Everyone on prom court is supposed to meet after school today and go over the events in a little more detail than at the pep rally.
As I head to sociology, an arm drapes over my shoulder. My muscles freeze as I smell the same crisp scent from the pep rally.
“Those are the pajamas you picked?” Matt says.
I fully intend to keep walking, no matter how many goosebumps prickle over my skin, but as I turn to look at him, my feet freeze.
“Those are the pajamas you picked?”
“What?” He frowns, looking down at himself.
He has his backpack slung over his shoulder, but other than that he looks like he rolled directly out of bed. Which doesn’t help my already flustered brain, because now I’m picturing him in bed.
He’s wearing socks with no shoes. But they’re ankle socks, revealing his calves. If you would’ve asked me if calves were attractive yesterday, I would’ve said I don’t know, but now I know. They are. But it doesn’t stop with socks and calves because he’s wearing basketball shorts, revealing his tanned legs that practically scream at me for attention.
My eyes continued to roam over him and scan over the tight gray tank top. His fit frame seems so much more muscular than usual, with no sleeves on his shoulders, and his chest filling out the top. The only thing that seems somewhat normal is his hair, which is usually a little messy. It’s just on the cusp of being out of control, but not in a bad way. In a way that makes me want to run my fingers through it.
“I didn’t have the shirt on when I got here,” he says, lifting the hem of the tank top, revealing his abs underneath.
