Speechless(183)

                I can’t disagree—we bailed not long after the announcements,                     because there was just no way things could get any better. Plus, Noah’s curfew                     will be up soon, and he kept talking about wanting pie, so we figured we’d all                     head over to Rosie’s to unwind and celebrate.

                Rosie’s is empty at the moment; dinner hour has long ended, and                     it’ll be a while before the post-formal stragglers and hungry burnouts wander                     in. Andy feeds Noah forkfuls of Dex’s pumpkin pie in one of the booths, their                     heads bent close together as they talk between bites. Lou fiddles with the                     jukebox until it blasts “Love Shack,” and she and Dex and Asha do this funny                     synchronized dance all in a line.

                “I’ve still got the moves!” Dex crows and Lou bumps her hip                     against his while Asha dissolves into giggles.

                “Are you going to help, or am I expected to do all the grunt                     work?” Sam asks.

                I tear my eyes away from the group scene and face him. He looks                     so ridiculous in that diamond-patterned sports jacket, spatula in hand, and even                     so I want to just throw him in the supply closet and do all kinds of dirty                     things to him.

                We stayed at the formal long enough to have one slow dance                     together, my arms wound around his neck, his slid around my waist. It was                     amazing, the two of us like that, so close, spinning around and around under the                     swirling lights. Even if the music sucked, even if no one was looking, it didn’t                     matter because Sam was looking, like he couldn’t                     stop, like he couldn’t believe I was actually there with him, when really I was                     the one who should’ve been in disbelief.

                Now we stand next to each other in our fancy outfits and flip                     tuna melts on the grill. Mine turns out better than it did last time, and we                     make home fries to go with them, and then slide in across from Andy and Noah,                     eating off each other’s plates.

                When Sam kisses some ketchup off the corner of my mouth, Andy                     says, “Awww. As much as I’d like to stick around                     with you two lovebirds, Cinderella’s gotta get his ass back to bed.”