“Do you have another shot glass?” asks Emily. “Kay wants one, too.”
Derek turns his eyes to me, pressing his lips together. “You don’t drink.”
His fatherly tone strikes a nerve, and an unexpected anger flares up inside me. “Yeah, well, things change.” I grab a shot glass and toss the liquid down my throat.
Emily gasps. “Hey! That was mine!”
My eyes latch onto Derek’s, and my voice is hard. “Lighten up, buddy. This is supposed to be one of the best nights of our lives. Besides,” I say, giving a careless shrug. “I’ve drank before.”
His eyes drill into me, and I know what he’s thinking—that I’ve only consumed alcohol once in my life, and it was a disaster. But who does he think he is? He’s still punishing me for the night he saw me in the back of Slate’s Tahoe, and it’s about time he lets it go.
Tommy takes his shot and slips his hand around my waist. “Just don’t get sick this time, babe. That’s expensive tequila.” He gives me a playful smirk.
Emily pours herself a shot, then another round for everybody. We nibble on some snacks, and eventually, Derek eases up. Before long, everyone is laughing and having a great time. I force a sushi roll in my mouth, knowing I need the food to counteract the alcohol. Tommy may have been joking, but he’s right. Getting sick tonight is the last thing I need.
After a while, I excuse myself to the restroom. The floor feels like a moving sidewalk as I make my way down the hall. Closing the bathroom door behind me, I stare at myself in the large mirror above the double sinks. Butterflies twirl around inside my stomach, and I press my hands against the cool marble counter and release a deep breath.
“Don’t be scared,” I whisper to my reflection. “It’s normal to be nervous.”
But nothing about this day is normal. My mom walking out on me isn’t normal. The alcohol coursing through my blood stream isn’t normal.
I don’t even remember normal.
Unsure of how long I’ve been in here, I run my hands underneath the faucet, lathering them with a delicate rose-scented soap. I take a deep breath in. This is a monumental occasion, and it’s meant to be enjoyed. The third shot hits me as I make my way back down the hall, and my edginess slowly evaporates. Tommy greets me with his boy-next-door grin—it has me noting how heartbreakingly handsome he is, and I greet him with a kiss. He encircles his arm around my waist, and I snatch the tequila, pouring myself another shot.
“Kay,” warns Emily. “We haven’t eaten much today, be careful.”
“I just want one more,” I say, tossing it back just as Derek’s parents enter the room. Emily grabs the bottle and slides it behind the couch—I swear, my best friend is some sort of alcohol ninja.
Mr. and Mrs. Larson gather us in the backyard near the waterfall that cascades over a rocky grotto into their enormous lagoon-style pool. A kaleidoscope of colors burst from the flowering bushes, providing the perfect backdrop for a photo shoot. The outdoor fireplace is blazing like the bright orange twilight skyline. Mrs. Larson directs us while she snaps what seems like a thousand pictures. Some traditional, some fun, and several goofy. Before long, we’re all shuffling into the limo, and it feels like the old gang again as we fool around, laughing with each other as we reminisce. Tommy’s hand is glued to my thigh, but my anxiety is long gone, and I lean in to kiss him. His hand slides higher, and I giggle.
“Hey now,” teases Emily. “At least wait till you’re in your room.”
I pull back and gaze at him for a moment. “Your eyes are so blue,” I say in awe. “They’re really beautiful.”
Tommy lets out a boisterous laugh. “Okay, you are drunk.”
“No I’m not! They’re beautiful.” I grab his face, squishing his cheeks and turn him toward Emily and Derek. “Aren’t his eyes beautiful?” The three of them laugh, but I don’t know what’s so funny. “I’m serious. They remind me of the water in Bora, Bora.”
“When did you go to Tahiti, Kay?” says Emily.
“Hey, I’ve seen pictures!”
They all laugh again, and the sound fills my heart. This is my old life. The life I miss. The four of us goofing around without a care in the world. This is all I want, and I try to savor the moment.
The limo comes to a stop, and I peer out the window.
“We’re here already? The drive felt like ten minutes.”
“Because it was,” says Derek.
I forgot the venue was so close. Okay, so maybe I did have one too many shots . . . but something in me wants one more. After everyone files out, I swing my legs out the door. Tommy holds out his hand, but I catch Emily’s eye and giggle, then slowly fall back on the seat.
“Kaley!” Emily says, laughing. She pushes Tommy aside and pokes her head into the limo and leans over me. “You’re about to have a major wardrobe malfunction. Get up!” She pulls me out of the limo, both of us doubled up in laughter.
Tommy rushes to my side. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I grab hold of his arm, grateful as it steadies me. “Never better,” I say, a bit too loud. I note his concerned expression and lower my voice. “Really, I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just feeling happy and relaxed.”
He smirks. “All right . . . come on, sexy, let’s go inside.”
Gas lanterns flicker, moving shadows against the rock walls as we approach the stone rotunda of the Villa Siena, where all the prom dates are shuffling inside. After handing a woman our tickets, Tommy leads me down the dimly lit hallway, adorned with wall-mounted candelabras, and I clutch his arm for balance. A tall, marble archway provides a dramatic entrance into the main ballroom. Tommy stops abruptly, and I almost trip.
“Slate! What’s up man?”
“Hey, Bradford,” replies Mr. Slate, shaking his hand in the way that only guys know how to do. His simple black slacks and navy-blue dress shirt are tailored to perfection as always.
“Hey, Professor McHottie, looking sharp!” I say, giving him a theatrical thumbs-up.
Emily bursts into laughter behind me and a flash of uneasiness crosses his features, but he remains poised.
“Kaley!” says Emily, attempting to chastise through her laughter. “Oh, my gosh,” she says, trying to gather herself, “I’m so sorry, Mr. Slate—it’s just an inside joke kind of thing.”
“Yeah, I think he can crack that code,” says Derek, deadpan. He slides past me, engaging Mr. Slate in a bromance handshake. A new song blares from inside the ballroom, and I squeal in delight.
“I love this song, come on!” I say to Emily, pulling her through the entry before anyone has a chance to stop us. I shove my way through the crowd, leading her to the center of the dance floor.
“I love Drunk Kaley!” Emily shouts, twirling me around.
We laugh, and suddenly I’m without a care in the world. Just fully content, moving to the beat with my best friend as everything else fades into the background. The crowd tightens around us, and we sway our hips to the music, raising our hands, my inhibitions melting away. Emily beams at me, and I grin back at her, the thumping base pulsating through me.
After several more upbeat songs, a disappointing slow song interrupts the flow, forcing us to stop. Just as we turn to leave the dance floor, someone grabs my waist, and I shriek. I whip around to Tommy’s smiling face and giggle. He pulls me close, and I circle my arms around his neck as we sway to the music.
A golden hue emanates from the circular chandeliers hanging above our heads, casting a warm glow on Tommy’s face.
“You are such a lightweight,” he teases, pressing his body against mine. He leans down to whisper in my ear, and I catch Mr. Slate’s eye over Tommy’s shoulder. He’s on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall . . . staring at us.
“Kay?” says Tommy, pulling back. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Huh?”
“I said I love you, Kaley.”
His ardent blue eyes peer down at me, and I push a smile to my face. “I love you, too,” I say in a rush. “Sorry, it’s just loud in here.” The empty pit in my stomach nudges through the numbness of the alcohol.
“I need to use the restroom,” I say, weaving out of his grip.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, totally.” My smile is strained. “I’ll be right back.”
He gives me a quick kiss. “Okay, I’ll be over there.” He nods to his buddies around the refreshment table.
As soon as I turn away, my smile drops. I slip through the crowd, keeping a focused stare on Mr. Slate. He’s still leaning against the wall with his hands comfortably in his pockets, no longer looking my way. With my shoulders back, I step in front of him, sliding a hand on my hip.
“What the hell was that about?” I shout through the blaring music.
“Kaley,” he says, glancing around the ballroom. “What are you doing?” His voice is firm, but quiet.
“What am I doing?” I spit out. “I’m dancing with my boyfriend at prom, what are you doing?”
He lifts a shoulder. “I’m chaperoning.”
“Is that all?” I ask.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says, peering down his nose at me.