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Rosalie ends up being our waitress. She smiles shyly at me every time she brings a platter of food to the table, which ends up being often. I get to try several new dishes. I love listening to Jaron explain each one as I spoon little mounds ofthe colorful food onto my plate. When we’re finished, my mouth is burning, my sinuses are clear, and my stomach is full.
As we stand to leave, Jaron’s aunt, Kashi, returns and moves quickly to our table. She hands Jaron a small bag of what looks like mini licorice candies.
“For the kissing later,” she says. Then she laughs all the way back to the kitchen.
Jaron pockets the colorful treat and shrugs. “Jokes on her,” he says, “We already kissed.” Jaron smiles his cocky grin.
Our driver is waiting beside the limo when we go back outside. He holds the door open for us and we slide in.
“What were those things anyway?” I ask.
Jaron reaches into his pocket and pulls the small bag out. “These are sugar-coated fennel seeds,” he says. “They’re kind of like dinner mints.”
“Can I try one?” I ask.
Jaron pours a small amount in the palm of my hand. “They’re for cleaning your palate, good breath, and they’re also supposed to help with digestion.”
I pop a couple in my mouth. I’m surprised by the intense sweetness. “Wow,” I say, puckering my lips. “I can see why she gave you such a small bag.”
Before we know it, the limo driver pulls in front of the state capitol building. I step from the limo and stare up at the huge structure. I’ve always wanted to come here and go on a tour or something. I can’t wait to see the inside. A small breeze blows and I shiver a little, both from excitement and the chill. Jaron wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me softly on the lips. My body is flooded by warmth.
“Better?” he asks.
“Much,” I say.
Jaron places my hand in the crook of his arm and we walk inside. Huge columns run from floor to ceiling. The decorationsreflect our school colors of black and silver. An archway is made out of black and silver balloons near one of the columns. A photographer is taking pictures beneath it. On the far side of the room is a makeshift stage. The platform has three steps leading up to it. There’s a microphone in the center, with a small table on one side. On the table are two sparkling, silver crowns. The Cubic Zirconia diamonds twinkle beneath the lights. My heart pounds against my chest. Jaron follows my gaze.
“You are going to be the most beautiful queen ever.”
I shake my head and turn to face him. “I know I’m probably not going to win,” I say. “But still, the thought of getting on stage in front of the whole school…” I shake my head. “No matter how many times I have an audience, it never gets easier.”
“Come on,” Jaron says, “Let’s go take some pictures and get your mind off the crown.”
We step into line right behind Ethan and his large group of friends. One of the girls in his group leans over to me. “I’m a Ravenclaw, too,” she whispers. We share a smile.
“Hey, Prom Queen, fancy meeting you here,” Ethan says. He turns around and smiles at us.
“Why do you call her that? She isnotthe prom queen, and she never will be.” Taylor folds her arms across her chest and juts out her chin.
“It’s just a nickname, Taylor,” Ethan says. “Go pop a Midol and come back when you’re ready to play nice.”
Taylor’s mouth drops open. She looks at her date expectantly. He seems preoccupied with his shiny, tux shoes. She stomps her foot like a petulant toddler and storms away. The poor boy sighs and follows behind her. A couple of the girls, including Ethan’s date, follow after them.
Ethan returns his smile to us. “You look beautiful,” he says, reaching out to touch my arm.
Jaron stiffens. He stands behind me and tightens his strong arms around my waist.
“Slow your roll, He-Man, I’m not here to steal your date. You won fair and square.”
I can feel my cheeks flushing a deep shade of pink.
“You can’t be rid of me forever though,” Ethan says, smiling. “We basically have a child together.”
A lump rises in my throat and I can’t seem to swallow it down. Jaron’s arms loosen as he’s caught off guard. But he quickly recovers and tightens them again.
“What child?” I ask.
“Sirius,” Ethan says. His blue eyes are dancing with amusement. “I believe I was promised I could visit him whenever I want. That sounds like joint custody to me.”
