Solving for Ex (12 page)

Now that we’d had dinner together, instead of thinking he looked slightly too formal and way ridiculous, I appreciated how the collared shirt Vincent was wearing framed his face. His absolutely stunning face.

Like he knew what I was thinking, he looked forward and smiled.

We were both quiet for the next few minutes, until the limo slowed. Vincent leaned forward and tapped the glass in front of us. “Just wait for us out here.” The super faint outline of the limo driver’s head nodded.

Vincent held out his hand, palm up and fingers relaxed, to me. “Ready for this?”

I smiled. “That depends,” I said. “How good of a dancer are you?”

Ω

Vincent dropped my hand as soon as he helped me climb out of the limo, and I glanced around at all the other kids getting out of their cars—their everyday cars. Granted, they drove makes that my family couldn’t pay for if they sold the whole farmhouse, but they were still the same cars they drove every single day to school.

“Hey, Ashley!” a high, perky voice called out across the parking lot, echoing against the shining marble walls of Mansfield Prep’s columned walkway, and bouncing back to my ears like a freaking banshee.

Sofia bounced toward me across the parking lot, her stretching-to-eternity, thin-yet-perfectly-curvy legs encased in skinny jeans, wearing a pink and green paisley shirt and the craziest stilettos I’d ever seen. She walked on them as confidently as a runway model would. And, behind her, she dragged Brendan. He looked like an adorably confused puppy. I hated that look and loved it at the same time.

“Hey, Ash,” he said, smiling in that same confused way.

“How’d it work out?” Sofia asked, looking at Vincent.

“Perfectly. If that was dinner every night, you wouldn’t hear a complaint out of me.” Vincent stepped close and nudged his shoulder into mine, smiling down at me.

Brendan looked at me curiously. “Didn’t you bring a picnic?”

“Well, uh…” I cleared my throat. “It was picnic food. But it was…”

“Gruyère mac and cheese, man. It was epic. At Seviche, that restaurant downtown. Simple food, incredible view. You should think about it. I’m sure your dad basically designed the place, right?”

“Uh...maybe. Yeah. I don’t know.” Brendan looked down at where his hand connected with Sofia’s, like he just realized he’d been holding it. He drew it away from hers and used it to run back through his hair, which was perpetually flopping in his eyes. Half the time I thought he kept it that way just so he could push it back like that when he needed something to do with his hands.

The thump of a bass wafted from the auditorium. Vincent gestured with his chin toward the school. “Sounds good. Who did they get?”

“Tommy and the Last Kisses,” Sofia said. “Britt’s dad knows their publicist and convinced them to stop here on their way cross-country from Philly.”

“I thought they sounded familiar.” Vincent looked down at me, checking for recognition. I had no clue. He shrugged. “First dance, Ash?” Brendan’s face fell. No one ever called me Ash besides him. But the way Vincent looked at me and reached for my hand…it didn’t sound too weird. Brendan certainly wasn’t trying, and that fact was quickly changing my attitude from sad to pissed off, and it looked like it could head into me not giving a damn. I smiled at him. “Sure.” Slipping my hand into his, we started walking toward the school. I looked back over my shoulder and called, “You guys coming?”

Ω

Like most everything else about Sadie, I hadn’t known a thing about the theme. We walked inside the school’s ballroom—yes, Mansfield Prep had a ballroom, for donor’s events—to see it decked out with chrome accents, pastel streamers, a huge jukebox framing the stage that held the band, and a make-your-own milkshake stand.

“Roadside Diner theme. Nice,” Vincent said.

“How did you figure that so quickly?” I asked, kind of impressed. It did look good, like the 50s sock hop scene had transported itself here.

“Oh, as soon as Sofia heard that they were doing a tolo, she got right on the decorations committee. She likes to be in charge of everything. Has a picture of what she wants, and she’ll do anything to make it happen.”

“Well, you’re twins. Are you the same that way?” I asked.

“Nah. I’d rather be surprised by finding something that’s already absolutely perfect for me.” He gazed down at me, his eyes falling on the same spot where he’d wiped the cherry topping from my chin. My heart quickened again. The strings of white lights reflected on every surface ten times more intensely than normal. Including those rich brown eyes of his, sparked with gold. They were so bright, were looking at me so warmly, the specks of gold like little flames, that if I looked into them for too long they’d melt me, too.

I suddenly found Aunt Kristin’s shoes desperately in need of a scuff check. I lifted one and examined it, brushing some mud from outside off the heel.

“Like this sorry situation, for instance,” he said. He gestured toward the room and its empty dance floor, and a bunch of kids gathered along the walls in circles of three or four, talking. Dozens waiting in line for malts or sodas. “I’m pretty happy with it, because I don’t care about any of those kids. I only care about you.”

My cheeks blazed red. Thank God the lighting was dim. I didn’t know what to say to that. I didn’t even know how I felt about that. “But Sofia…Sof won’t like this at all. I’m giving it about sixty seconds till she does something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just watch. You’ll see what I mean.” He pointed at Sofia as she and her chestnut hair bounced across the dance floor. Even I had to admit that paisley collared shirt looked good on her. How it was possible for a girl in high school to have such long legs, such a tiny waist, and such big boobs was beyond me. I knew by the way at least a dozen other guys watched her that they were thinking the same thing. She was like a freaking Barbie doll, and consequently the wet dream of every guy here.

My gaze turned to Brendan standing in the doorway where she’d left him. The look on his face was different. His mouth hung open and he kind of slouch-swayed to the music like all the other guys, but the way his eyebrows drew together just a bit in the center gave it away. It was the same look he got whenever he was trying to figure something out.

Of course he thought she was hot—everyone did. But he was also totally confused.

Sofia stood on her tiptoes to talk to the bass player. His eyes drifted from her face to a point below her chin and he got that same bemused expression guys always had when they were getting a free show. Which meant he was no longer thinking with his brain, at least not the one in his head. Which meant, at this point, he’d do whatever she wanted.

Damn, this girl was good. Sometimes, I wished I could control people like that.

The bass player nodded at her, walked over to the lead singer, and whispered something in her ear. She smiled, winked down at Sofia, and said into the microphone, “Okay, you deadbeats, whaddya say we really get this dance going?”

There was a halfhearted cheer from the crowd, mostly coming from the group of designer jeans and stiletto-wearing, $500-phone-toting girls Sofia had already started to rule.

“We’re gonna snowball. One couple will start us off, nice and slow, and when we switch songs, they grab new partners. Girls ask the boys. Got it?”

Another cheer, and this time some of the guys joined in. Leave it to them to appreciate a situation where they didn’t even have to find the balls to ask a girl to dance. Even I thought it was an okay idea, until Sofia walked to the dance floor hand in hand with Brendan, and that weird burning started in my chest. And it only got worse when the first song the singer played was a slow song. A very slow song.

I watched as Brendan let his hands curve around her waist, right where the shirt bunched into her jeans. I thought my eyes might burn out of their sockets. His hands sat there for the first few seconds, his palms flat, but as the song went on, they talked and laughed even more. Sofia went from resting her wrists on Brendan’s shoulders to leaning her forearms there. Her face was just inches from his. The song swelled as it ended, and Sofia tossed back her head and laughed. Then she looked at Brendan with her eyebrows furrowed, and reached up and held some of the hair out of his face. He shook his head, letting his hair flop like normal back into his eyes. Just like I’d always liked it.

The singer finished crooning the closing notes of the song, then announced, “Okay, each one of our original couple, choose a new partner, and after that, it’s all girls!” Her tone was way too chipper and enthusiastic for something so incredibly stressful. Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Brendan.

And then, he looked up at me, and mouthed, “Please?” while smiling that sheepish smile I couldn’t resist. I rolled my eyes and headed toward him, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off of my face. Sofia’s eyes caught mine, and for a split second I could have sworn they shot poison at me. But then that smile, the impossibly peppy and unmovable one I’d seen since I hung out with her at Custard’s First Stand, took over, as she extended one perfectly manicured nail toward the captain of the lacrosse team—Rush, tall and muscled and definitely Julia’s boyfriend.

The interlude music was slow, and my heart jumped as I got closer to Brendan. He put one hand on my waist, but held out the other away from his body.

He wanted to dance with me like he’d dance with his mom. Or his sister. Or his best friend.

Just his best friend. Nothing more.

He smiled at me. That genuine, huge, heartwarming smile that made me feel right at home, even in the middle of this crazy, awkward, angsty dance floor, where girls were starting to pick new partners left and right, and dirty, territorial looks were a dime a dozen. Yeah, I felt right at home with Brendan, no matter what else was going on.

The only question was, why did I even still feel that way? Because the other thing I knew for sure was that his fingers didn’t curve into my waist like they had with Sofia’s. And he definitely wasn’t anywhere close to hugging my body to his.

With a couple dozen couples on the floor, the interlude ended, and the singer started a fast, wild number with loud drums and screaming horns. And that’s when Brendan’s fingers finally dug into my waist.

A smile so wide spread across my face, I swear I must have looked like an idiot. But the same one was on his.

“Do you still remember?” he shouted over the scream of the horns.

“How could I forget?” I shouted.

For being so wiry thin, Brendan was also cut, and a lot stronger than he looked. We launched into the swing dance routine we’d picked up in one of the many fancy elective gym classes Mansfied prep offered last year.Brendan had saved me from the indignity of learning the routine with one of the only other girls who’d been stupid enough to take the class without arm-wrestling her boyfriend into taking it with her.

But when he pulled me to him, his hand was flat against my waist. His fingers didn’t curve in and hold on like they did to Sofia’s. Less curves to hold onto, I guessed, but still. I knew the difference.

By then, between all the kicks and twists and jumps and twirls and lifts, all the other kids had backed up, making a circle of floor around us, and were clapping in time with the music. God, no matter how tightly he was holding on to my waist, it felt so good for us just to hang out for a few minutes. No Sofia. No weirdness. No obsessing. Just moving, feeling, being.

When the song finally wound down in a three-round fanfare of trumpet, everyone applauded like crazy, and the singer cried, “Let’s give it up for our swing-dancing couple in the center! Way to take it back to the ’30s, you guys!”

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with the inside of my wrist and beamed. But when I turned my face to Brendan’s, his eyes were somewhere else. On Sofia, looking all mopey at the edge of the circle.

Vincent walked up and nudged his shoulder into mine, holding a drink in each hand. Brendan took the opportunity to drop my hand and head toward Sofia. The smile she flashed him must have blinded him, because he smiled and walked with her to the milkshake station without a glance back at me.

I spent the next half hour standing around talking with Vincent, then following Julia to the bathroom and listening to her angst about why her boyfriend wasn’t loving every second of this dance. “I mean, that magazine said they love it when the girls take charge. Sadie is all about taking charge,” she whined, touching up her lip gloss in the mirror.

Then, in a cloud of flowery air, Sofia walked into the bathroom and pushed into a stall.

This was my chance. Just to get a second alone with Brendan, to say hi. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say to him, but I did know I wanted to say it without Sofia.

Brendan had stepped out into the courtyard, even though it was freezing. Sofia had spent the evening so far at the punch table with a group of girls, throwing glances at me over her shoulder. How she’d picked up so many girlfriends in the few weeks she’d been here, I’d never know. I couldn’t imagine having that many friends in my whole life.

Brendan leaned against one of the stone pillars. If I stood behind one just right, no one in the auditorium would be able to see me. Perfect.

It was starting to get pretty chilly outside. The wind had already begun to howl through the mountains that held Pittsburgh, and the air it swept in off the rivers was frigid. Even though I had on a long-sleeved shirt underneath the math tee, and full-length jeans with my heels, a shiver shuddered through my whole body. “Jesus, Brendan. What are you doing out here?” If he couldn’t hear my teeth chatter from two feet away where he stood, it would be a miracle.

A song that was not fast, but not slow either, floated out into the courtyard. I peered inside to see how the other kids were taking it. Slow, with lots of wandering hands. Awesome.

I clutched at my upper arms, crossing my arms in front of me. “Oh, Ash.” Brendan looked over at me with a soft smile. “Here, babe.” He unbuttoned the paisley shirt that Sofia had given him—under which he wore a dark blue shirt with a very faded Superman logo on it—and held it out to me. I winced.