Page 117 of The Year I was Almost Prom Queen

“How thoughtful.” She smiles at him. “I’ll go put these in a vase for you. You pin the boutonniere on him. Then I can get some pictures before you leave.”

I pull out the simple, red boutonniere and try attaching it to his lapel. I hold it up to his tux and fidget with the pin. I don’t know how to do this.

“Do you want some help?” Jaron asks.

“Maybe,” I say, reluctantly.

Between the two of us, we finally get his boutonniere pinned securely in place. Jaron then slides a beautiful white, rose corsage onto my wrist. It’s tied with a burgundy ribbon to match my dress.

Mom comes back into the entryway and begins taking about a hundred pictures.

“Mom, stop,” I say. “We need to go before the dance is over.”

“Oh, just humor your mom,” Dad says, coming out of his den. “This is both your first and last high school dance. Let her capture it.”

“Just a few more.”

I smile until my teeth ache.

“Alright now, go have fun! We’ll see you there.”

We both sigh with relief.

“See you soon,” I say.

They may be chaperoning the dance, but I hope they don’t make it awkward. Dad steps forward and shakes Jaron’s hand before giving me a big hug. “Have fun. Be good.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

Jaron walks me out to the limo waiting for us in the driveway. A man in a black cap holds the door open for us. I get in first and slide over. Jaron climbs in right behind me. The inside is spacious and dark.

“Do we have this whole thing to ourselves?” I ask.

Jaron grins. “Yeah, Dad is friends with the driver.” He points to the driver in front of us. “I thought about inviting some of my friends to join us, but most of them are on the baseball team. After the incident a couple weeks ago…well, I wasn’t sure you’d want to hang out with them.”

I lean into Jaron and he wraps his strong arms around me. “I’m also feeling a little selfish. I finally got you. Now I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

I sit up and look into Jaron’s deep-set eyes. It’s like falling into a chocolate fountain, full of sweetness.

Jaron leans in. My lungs are intoxicated with the spicy smell of his cologne. My tongue darts out, moistening my dry lips. I suck in a breath as my pulse quickens. Jaron’s lips inch closer until they’re pressed softly against mine. My cheeks flash with heat. My nerve endings tingle as the kiss deepens. The limo and the world around us seem to disappear as my head swims with only thoughts of Jaron.

I forget to breathe and have to pull away to catch my breath. Jaron’s panting tells me he forgot to breathe as well.

Jaron reaches up and caresses my cheek with his hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Sorry?” I ask.

“Well, I didn’t ask your permission first,” he says.

I reach up and my fingers dance along his strong jawline. I tickle the back of his hair and then pull his head closer. “Permission granted,” I say, closing the gap. We kiss again. I shift from exploring his lips, to savoring them.

The limo stops in front of an Indian restaurant. Jaron smiles at me when I look at the building, surprised.

“Is this your family’s_?”

“Yup.”

Jaron takes my hand and we step inside.

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