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Panic flowered in my gut. I hadn’t actually told Cheryl that Ian wasn’t taking me.
“Actually,” Rachel said. “We can’t all get ready together. Mani/pedis are in the morning, then Frankie’s hair and makeup is later in the day, and we’re going to a different place.”
“Aww,” Cheryl pouted, but I could have kissed Rachel, and she winked at me. “Well, Rach, who are you taking? Or are they taking you? You could double with us?”
“I’d sooner drink drain cleaner than ride with Mitch,” Rachel told her. “Besides, I’ll pick my own date up, thanks.”
With a real pout, Cheryl propped her chin on her fist. “Fine, what about after party?” She scanned the guys and fixed on Ian. “What are yours and Frankie’s post dance plans?”
The silence hit the table like a lead balloon, not that Cheryl noticed. For his part, Ian shrugged and said, “We made other plans.” Relief swarmed me. He could have called out the fact he wasn’t taking me. He could have said any number of things.
But he had my back. After Cheryl flicked her fingers at him like she could erase his comment and latched her focus on Jake, I mouthed ‘thank you’ to him, and he gave me the barest nod.
“What about you Jake? Who are you taking?”
“Going stag,” Jake said easily. “We’re not making any plans. Just going to do what we feel like doing.”
Next to me, Rachel snorted and I elbowed her, so she gave me teasing grin.
“Oh, I hate you all,” Cheryl complained, then leaned her head against my shoulder. “You could change his mind right? Or theirs? This is our last Homecoming! The last one we’ll celebrate all together. We need to make it memorable.”
Guilt clawed at me because it fell right in line with my desire to do all the things senior year. Not that my version of all the things had gone anywhere in the vicinity of what I’d hoped for. In fact, if there were a GPS program for what I’d wanted the year to be, I was pretty sure it rerouted to some alternate routes without letting me know ahead of time.
A flick of a look toward Archie, then Coop, and finally Jake and Ian earned me three slight headshakes and one faintly worried look. Then again, Coop only gave me the head’s up this morning that Ian wanted to ride with us. But he and Jake both said it was up to me. Considering they probably ran it by Archie—a part of me would die to be a fly on the wall of those conversations, even if the rest of me would likely die if I was a fly on the wall—I appreciated the fact they solicited my input.
“We’ll see,” I told Cheryl finally, and Archie made a choking noise.
“Don’t die, asshat, you’ll ruin our weekend plans,” Rachel deadpanned. “Well, not mine.”
Flipping her off, Archie took another drink of his coffee. “Are we almost done with the estrogen portion of the morning? We want our Frankie back.”
“You boys get her every damn day, you need to learn to share.” Rachel smirked, then nudged me. “I’ll text you the mani/pedi time and place. Why don’t you meet us so someone can’t hold you hostage?”
“I’m not going to hold her hostage,” Cheryl argued. “I just want to do it all right. And you two should get to the dance early so we can get pictures, too. Not just the couple pictures, but all of us girls.”
“We’ll get pictures,” I promised. “Whether we’re early or not, unless you think Mitch isn’t going to let you get off the dance floor.”
Cheryl grinned. “Maybe I won’t let him get off the dance floor, think about that!” Despite her protests, she rose and followed Rachel, pausing to say, “Don’t be late!”
Behind her, Rachel made a face, and I laughed.
“So,” Coop said idly. “What time are the mani/pedis? When do you have to get your hair and makeup done?” When I glanced at him, mischief danced in his eyes. “Because we need to make sure we do all the pictures, the before, the during, the after…”
Snagging one of the donut holes from the bag, I threw it at him, and he caught it with a grin. “Thank you.”
Archie chuckled. “Though that’s a good point, what time will you be done with hair and makeup?” Then he made a face. “It’s like it’s contagious.”
“We’ll get you a training bra,” Jake told him. “We already scheduled the car to pick us up at Frankie’s at six-thirty. Don’t be a shit.”
I laughed because Archie flicked a donut hole at Jake this time, and he caught it easily, then popped it in his mouth and chewed with a smirk. Over the last week, his and Ian’s bruises had gone through a riot of shades, they were still pretty green and yellow in places, but the worst of it had begun to fade.
They’d also done two more “meetings” with Diane, and Jake said it was going well. For that, I was glad. All of us talked more—well, I talked more with Archie about our parents and the fact that he had a locksmith come change the locks on the apartment. He gave me a new set of keys, and then I divided them up—one for him, Coop, and for Jake. There was an extra that he’d probably meant for Ian, or maybe just so I had a spare. I stored it—for now.
While I hadn’t talked to Ian about the song, I’d listened to it while I went through the mail in my backpack. Coop had collected the mail the day before, and it reminded me of the letters I’d stuffed in there.
Two of them had just been standard college recruiting letters. The third one had been different. It was an offer, handwritten note included, to visit NYU and to apply. I was considered a great candidate apparently. The recruiter included the schools at the university he thought I’d enjoy and asked me to call if I’d like to schedule a visit.
NYU hadn’t been on my list. Coop had brought it up. I hadn’t told the guys about it yet. Archie also made calls and got me an appointment with his attorney. He’d taken me to see him right after school on Tuesday, so I’d had to let Ian know I couldn’t hang out with him that evening.
