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Mom fawned all over him and Dad shook his hand as if they were closing a business deal. The contrast between how he treated Justin compared to my friends was like a flashy neon sign: straight white people only.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to Caroline.
She gave me a smile and a shrug. “Not the first. Won’t be the last.”
Justin came over, carrying a blue rose corsage in a plastic box. “You look beautiful,” he said.
“Thank you,” I said.
For someone who had a hard time looking in the mirror and feeling good about what she saw, I thought I’d done pretty well. My mother insisted on taking me to a salon and they put my hair in a high, spectacularly messy yet graceful bun. Tendrils fell down here and there to frame my face, a few trailing down my back. I’d brushed sparkling pink makeup lightly over my eyelids and a darker pink gloss stained my lips.
I felt pretty but Justin wasn’t who I wanted to be pretty for. I couldn’t help but wish the eyes gazing down at me were stormy gray-green seas, instead of flat blue pools. I wanted the arm offered to smell like gasoline and cigarettes, not Drakkar Noir and money.
Justin slid the corsage up my wrist where I’d spent an hour scrubbing little black X’s off my skin, but I felt as if they’d rise to the surface, like goosebumps, when he bent to give me a kiss on the cheek
What happened to just friends?
I took a step backward, into my own space again. Judging by Justin’s smug, knowing smile, he took my reaction as being swept off my feet by his charm. A cold lump settled in my stomach, spreading outward,
freezing the progress I’d made so far.
I can do this I can do this I can do this…
My mother took a million photos of the two of us, a few thousand group shots, and then it was time to go. We filed out of the house and down the driveway. Mrs. Chambers, our nosy next-door neighbor, watched the procession from her front porch.
Naturally Dad made a fuss over the limo Justin hired. It wasn’t a stretch, but long enough to fit the six of us, with room to spare.
“Very nice,” Dad said, as we climbed in. “Very nice, indeed.”
“I’ll have her back by curfew, sir,” Justin said, shaking his hand.
“Take your time, take your time,” Dad said to Justin. “Have fun.” Again, to Justin.
I shot a look at Angie as we settled in, smoothing our dresses and making sure our hair didn’t bump the limo roof.
“This is really nice,” Jocelyn said, running her hand along the leather seat.
“Let us pitch in to cover it,” Nash said.
“Nah,” Justin said. “I got this.”
“You don’t have to,” I said. “It’s a lot of money.”
He shrugged and smiled down at me. “You’re worth it.”
Another girl might have swooned, but I heard implications. Expectations.
You’re being paranoid. He’s being nice.
The weight of expectation fell on my bare shoulders and another shiver slipped down my back. Justin put his arm around my seat. I tried to relax. My thumb kept rubbing my wrist.
Angie leaned close and took my hand. “I feel like a damn broken record asking this, but are you okay?”
“Fine,” I said.
“Yeah? Because you don’t look fine. My man Nash looks fiiiine. You look like you just gave five pints of blood.”
“I’m just cold.”
