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Granted, in the grand scheme of things, this class wasn’t my original graduating class. But with Kilgore being as small as it was, the juniors were just as friendly with the seniors as they were with the sophomores.
Kilgore’s prom was actually a mixture of juniors and seniors. But there were so many underclassmen here that this might as well have been a prom for the entire high school.
A holler had me looking toward the entrance again, and this time the entire room went silent.
The only thing that was making noise was the music on the speakers that were set up near the stage.
The student body had gone utterly silent.
I looked up from my viewfinder and spotted Derek entering the ballroom. Derek being the cause of all the quietness.
He was wearing a tux.
Full-on tux.
It was black and fit him like it was specifically made for him.
No store-rented tux for Derek Roberts.
I lifted my camera and zoomed in on Derek, my breath catching in my lungs when I caught a look of his clean-shaven face.
I loved seeing all the bearded guys that were on the SWAT team, and a lot of the times, Derek’s scruff went right along with them.
But then there were other times that he shaved for some seminar or felt like it was getting too long.
I moved my camera to pan down his corded neck to his chest.
The shirt underneath his jacket was also black, as well as his tie. The only hint of color on him at all were the tiny little dots that were on his tie.
Silver.
Just like my dress.
His hair was combed and parted to the side, slicked back into some semblance of control, and so not him.
My heart skipped a beat when his eyes finally locked on mine.
And when he started to prowl toward me, I somehow knew that he was pissed.
I bit my lip and continued to snap pictures as he moved.
A corded neck here. A square jaw there. A narrowed eye.
Beautiful full lips.
Smirking mouth.
I dropped my camera when he cleared his throat right in front of me.
I swallowed hard. “Derek.”
He tilted his head slightly and said, “You said you didn’t want to go to the prom.”
I blinked.
“I didn’t,” I stated dumbly.
“Yet you’re here,” he snapped.
Whispering started toward my left and I narrowed my eyes at Brittany, the cheerleader that loved to give me just as much shit as Rachel.
She was whispering to another jock that was on the football team.
I rolled my eyes at them and took hold of Derek’s hand, leading him through the crowd to a room that led to the back hallway and the food preparation area.
He stayed with me, never once letting go of my hand.
I looked over my shoulder at him when I led him into a small, unoccupied room.
Then, once the door was closed behind us, I put my bag and camera down on the table and turned to face him.
He narrowed his eyes when he saw me holding my neck.
“You should be in the neck brace,” he murmured.
I rolled my eyes. “It would’ve looked great with this dress,” I said sarcastically.
He growled. “You know what would’ve looked great? You on my fucking arm as I took you here.”
“Why would I have thought you’d want to go to my prom?” I snorted. “You’ve been more than vocal about how young I am.”
He ground his jaw together for a few moments before saying, “I understand that. What I also understand is that you’re a lot more grown-up than I am. Which I’ve already told you plenty of times before.”
I rolled my eyes all over again then threw up my hands in frustration.
“You’re off the hook, Derek!” I said. “I’ve been okay doing this. I would’ve been okay doing everything! I don’t need you!”
He frowned ferociously at me.
“Don’t you think I know that?” he hissed. “I know damn well you’re more than capable of doing everything on your own. That first night you were home from getting that brace put on, you took a shower by yourself because I wasn’t there. You exhausted yourself and dressed yourself in my clothes because you couldn’t figure out how to get your own on.”
I blinked.
“The next day, I was there, yet you still took a shower by yourself. And you figured out how to get dressed in your own clothes that day.” He threw up his hands.
“Derek…”
He talked over me.
“You went back to school the next day, fucking taking the bus because I was called out on a SWAT call and you didn’t want to inconvenience anybody,” he continued. “You somehow found ways to your own doctor appointments. You stopped calling me to pick you up from school. Then you moved out!”
I blinked at the way he sounded so… broken.
“You moved out,” he continued. “So yes, I know that you’re more than capable of doing shit on your own.” He paused. “These last six weeks have been torture. You won’t let me do anything for you. And honestly, it’s a little emasculating. I want to take care of you, Avery. And you just won’t let me.”
