Authors: Emily Evans
***
Trey sat beside me on the floor of his recreation room holding the questionnaire. “On a date, would you rather go to a sporting event or a dance?”
I patted my hand on the plush grey carpet. “Dance.”
He didn’t write anything down. “I already answered my half.”
I glanced over his shoulder. In his small script, he’d written
sports
in all caps under his name and
dance
under mine.
Trey folded the paper down to the next question and grinned at me with bright eyes. I braced myself, recognizing the look.
“Would you rather…”
Hearing those three words made me shiver.
Trey shifted closer. His cologne smelled great. His head tilted toward me, and I felt his lips against my ear. Trey blew then moved his mouth down to my neck. He licked the spot and gave a small sucking bite.
I fell back against my hands, eyes wide.
Oh my.
He sat back up and put a pen to the questionnaire. “Which one?”
My mouth opened, but no response emerged.
“Not sure?” Trey leaned toward me and repeated the motions. He pulled back.
I followed him and crawled onto his lap.
“Which one, Paisley?” he asked on a laugh.
My hands threaded through his brown hair, and I leaned down to blow in his ear. Breathing in the smell of a shower and the sophisticated cologne, I paused.
Nice.
I moved my lips over his clean-shaven jaw, kissing my way down to his neck. Once there, I lowered my fingers to his shoulders and lightly licked his neck while pressing his shoulders with my fingers. I leaned back to assess his gaze.
Trey focused on me. His hands moved to my hips, and his fingers clenched.
I returned my mouth to his neck, licked his skin and gently sucked it into my mouth. “Mmm.” He tasted like--
He turned my face to his and his mouth landed on mine, ending the thought.
My hands slid against his back before I pulled away. “Which one?”
“Yes.”
I nodded in agreement.
“A few more,” Trey said with lowered lids, “to be sure.”
My legs tightened. “I’m sure,” I said. “What’s the next one?”
He laid the paper against my skin, and scribbled. I could feel the press of the pen against my thigh. When Trey finished, he sat straighter, forcing me to lean back. He penned a seven on my canvas sneaker.
Number seven was his jersey number and the number to the next question. I sucked in a breath. Trey rolled me over, so I lay underneath him. The plush carpet cradled my back. He laced his fingers through mine and lifted them over my head. The position put more of his heavy weight against me, and I shivered against him. His hair fell across his forehead.
I tugged one hand free to brush it aside. My fingers hit the small bandage. “How’s your injury?”
“Fine. And your name is Paisley.” He reached a hand behind his back and pulled his T-shirt over his head. “My shirt or your shirt?” Trey asked in a husky voice.
I sucked in a breath and touched his skin.
Warm. Hard. Smooth.
“My shirt’s staying on.” I slid my fingers over his chest.
Nice.
Six weeks ago, I wouldn’t have had the guts. But with the massage therapy, I’d gotten used to touching him.
“Mine then.” Trey leaned forward to press his lips to mine.
His hand brushed my waist a moment before a female voice intruded on my consciousness. “Joellen says I can’t handle any more work.”
“You can’t do everything,” a male voice agreed.
I twisted away from Trey’s mouth and listened to the voices outside the door.
“I hate hiring, but I think I’ll have to add another assistant.”
Trey groaned and lifted away. “Those are my parents.” He rolled to his feet, offering me a hand. “I thought Mom was in New York this week.”
I let him pull me up, and tried to slow my breathing. “My Dad called her.” My voice came out funny, husky.
He yanked his shirt on, and brushed his hair over his forehead so the bandage was covered. “I’ll take you home.”
“Okay.” I used a framed mirror to check my hair. I ran my hands over the top, smoothing it. A picture hung beside the mirror. It was of a younger Trey with a sophisticated looking couple. Trey was photogenic even then. No surprise there.
The tall couple from the photo met us in the doorway--Trey’s parents. His mom wore a polished haircut and fitted dress. His dad wore a buttoned-down shirt.
I hoped they couldn’t tell we’d been rolling around on the carpet.
Trey introduced me, and after the greetings, his mom put one hand on Trey’s shoulder and reached toward his bandage. “Are you really well? Let me see.” She brushed at his hair and frowned. “Sports. Those other boys are too rough.”
I choked back a laugh.
“Honey,” Trey’s dad said. His mom looked away.
“I’m okay,” Trey said. “You didn’t have to come home for this.”
His mom held up her cell phone and showed Trey the screen. I sucked in a breath at the image of Trey at the game, post injury, blood down his face.
Ouch.
I looked from the phone to his bandaged wound.
Trey shrugged, took the phone, and hit delete before handing it back. “Coach shouldn’t have sent that. The whole thing wasn’t that bad.” He reached for my hand. “I need to run Paisley home.”
Holding his hand made me felt calmer. He felt strong and healthy. I tightened my grip.
His mom tucked her inverted bob behind her ears and offered me a handshake. “I hope we’ll see you again.”
I smiled. “Thanks.”
Both his parents followed us out. His dad said, “Don’t forget to walk her to her door.”
Trey waved.
His parents had lovely manners.
Where had they gotten him?
I got in, clicked on my seatbelt and turned to face him. “Does your mom come home often?”
Trey frowned and kept his focus on the road. “No. She lives in New York.” His hands tightened against the steering wheel. “Dad works there sometimes too, and sometimes other cities. They travel a lot.”
“Do you think your mom will ever move here?”
“No.”
Trey’s Porsche made a quick drive pass even faster. He pulled into Dad’s drive, put the car in park, and walked me to the door.
We dodged the sago palm and I put a hand on his arm. “Trey—”
He cut off my words by stealing a kiss.
***
When I got into my room, I lay across my striped comforter and smoothed out the questionnaire. I had to know what number ten would’ve been. I stared hard at the page and sat up straighter. These weren’t what he’d asked. Number seven wasn’t a shirt question, nor was number eight.
‘#7.) Do you prefer the beach or the mountains?’ He’d written
mountains
. I penned in
beach
.
‘#8.) Do you prefer rock music or country music?’ He’d written
rock
. I wrote
both
.
‘#9.) Do you prefer eating in or dining out?’ He’d written
in
, I wrote
out
.
‘#10.) How cute are you? Don’t answer this question. This will be rated when you turn in your form.’
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I shoved the questionnaire under my pillow. “Yeah?”
“It’s me,” Aster said from the other side of the door.
“Come in.”
Aster entered, her steps slow, and glanced around the room. “I got permission from your mom to ask you this.”
Uh oh.
“No pressure, but will you be one of my bridesmaids?”
By the time it came to setting a wedding date, my parents would be back together so it wouldn’t hurt to say
yes
now. I twisted my fingers into the corner of my comforter and nodded. “Yes.”
Aster squealed and hugged me in a jasmine-perfumed embrace. “Great. We have so many plans to make, and you’re so good at planning.” She drew in a breath. “Now for the hard part.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Hmm?”
Aster held up her hands. “I know it’s not your style. But it’s going to be beautiful. Come on.” She led me to the guest room closet. “I want a tropical theme, and I’m storing the wedding stuff in here.” She lifted a hanger from the rack. A one-sleeved, turquoise mesh mermaid gown with shiny gold polka-dots stared back at me. The fishtail trailed at least four feet in back.
“When you walk, the back of your train will touch the front of the next girl’s dress. The trail of flowing fabric will look like the ocean.” Aster held the gown tight against her body and posed. “There’ll be twelve bridesmaids. I picked turquoise to match your eyes.” She swished the fabric, making the metallic dots flash.
***
Lauren collected the questionnaires at the Sparkle meeting. Giggles accompanied the handovers.
I held out Trey’s, trying to keep a blush off my face, then tapped the gavel on the stand. “Our latest announcement is a credit to Star and Zoe: Three NFL cheerleaders and all high school cheerleaders will teach dancing lessons in the school gym this Saturday. $10/person. All proceeds go to the prom fund. Free entrance for anyone who volunteers for one of the prom task forces.”
Zoe nodded and I gave her a moment to collect high fives before moving on.
“About the music.” This drew the volunteers’ attention. “Carla’s given me the latest rundown and we’re going to have to go with what you’d call local talent.”
Carla nodded with pursed lips.
“That’ll suck,” Zoe said.
I ignored her. “Amy’s in charge of flyers. We’ll need these up by Friday, advertising for a band and a D.J.”
Carla consulted a clipboard. “The gig pays free prom admission for them, their dates, and twenty per musician. The fee is non-negotiable.”
***
We found a fairly good band midway through the auditions. They’d do for opening. But we still needed a headliner. The final group ran in right after a band competition, clad in polyester uniforms, and plumed hats. I shut my eyes, unable to bear the sight. No one had high expectations, but they rocked it: incredible singer, fabulous lead guitar, drums, and bass. I could fix their outfits.
***
Standing in Lauren’s crowded living room, I glanced at Carla and she rubbed her fingertips together. Our events were raking in money. Lauren’s computer match party was no exception. Lauren clapped to get our attention, gave us numbers and had us line up in order in two lines. “Okay. Look at your partner beside you. These are your exact matches.”
I looked.
My partner was a thin guy dressed in black. What was his name? Ethan?
Trey stood in the line opposite me, a slutty looking girl was next to him. No surprise there.
Ethan glanced from me to Trey. He didn’t last long under Trey’s glare before he looked elsewhere.
Lauren read from a piece of paper. “The person beside you will make a good friend.”
“Take a step forward. These are the partners who’ll make a hot date.”
The girl clung to Trey even after he stepped away from her and he landed in front of me. I gazed up at him with eyes wide. He grabbed my wrist and grinned.
I needed more punch.
“Opposites attract,” Lauren said.
Zoe jaunted over, her newly-permed hair curled tight and twisted into two ponytails. “I wished I dwew you.” She tapped a silver crackled fingernail on Trey’s chest as she baby-talked him.
I started to draw away, but Trey tugged me close. Then, he hung out with me the rest of the party.
***
I was sitting in Dad’s office finishing homework when Dad trooped in with John and Trey. They looked like they’d had a rough practice. Trey had a bruise high on his cheekbone and John had cut on his jaw. They wore street clothes and their hair was wet from the shower.
Dad said to me, “Star’s got a meeting with the florist, so you’ve got both guys today.”
“Not happening, Dad. John took $50,000 from my committee. No way I’m touching him.”
John’s lower lip pressed out.
Dad said, “It’s not for him. It’s for the team.”
Dad tended to dig in his heels, even when he suspected he may not have had the best idea. He called it, Stick-to-it-ism. I had it too.
“Okay,” I said and freed a grape pop from the jar.
Trey shook his head.
I held out a hand to stop his words, knowing how to handle this. I unwrapped my candy with deliberate motions. “It’s just, I know John’s parents. They go to church with Mom.” I paused and met John’s eyes, so that even though I addressed my words to Dad, John would hear me loud and clear. “So as long as I clear the massage with his parents first, I’ll do it. John, call your mom and let me talk to her.”
“Do whatever.” Dad checked the scores on his app and headed to the locker room.
John frowned and tilted his head as if confused.
“You know, to let her know that the NFL cheerleader masseuse who you normally use is being replaced by an amateur.”
“That’s okay, Pez. I got plans anyway.” John hurried from the room.
I pushed a chuckling Trey toward the table and moved in close. I liked standing near him. “You were so good today.” I spoke around my grape lollipop.
Trey tugged me onto the table. I laughed, put my hands on either side of his shoulders, and straddled his hips with my knees. The memory foam sank under my knees and my hair fell forward, curtaining us. “This is not proper procedure,” I protested. “Star says that for maximum benefit--”
Trey yanked the pop free then tossed it onto the floor. The candy landed with a crack against the linoleum.
“Hey, those are my favorite.”
He rose on an elbow, slid his rough hand behind my neck and kissed me with quick intense pressure then dropped back. “Mine’s strawberry, but I can’t look at that damn jar without thinking about grape and kissing you.”
“Strawberry?” I lowered and let my weight rest on him as we kissed. He tasted candy-coated and electric. His strong arms wrapped around my waist and slid to my hips, pressing me closer.
“Geez, Pez. I could have been your dad.” John’s voice sounded annoyed.
I blinked and turned my head. John stood inside the doorway blocking the locker room with his big body. His biceps crossed over his chest.
He was right. I hopped down hoping my knees would hold me.