Awkwardly Ever After Read online

  Chapter 4

  Speaking of the illustrious King family, this reporter has heard rumors that there may be another substantial donation headed to Smith High School that is earmarked for making this year’s prom unforgettable. While this has proved impossible to substantiate, Principal Taylor has hinted that an announcement may occur after the King’s twenty-sixth wedding anniversary.

  If the high school prom is even half as decadent and exclusive as their yearly extravaganza, this is going to set an unreachable standard for years to come.

  —from “Preparing for Prom,”

  by Lisa Anne Montgomery

  Published by The Smithsonian

  “Okay, Spence, want to tell me what that was all about?”

  It was weird hearing Mackenzie address a hockey player so casually, because pre-fame she would’ve been every bit as frazzled by his presence as Izzie. Now she was acting like it was totally normal for Spencer to pull up to the curb and saunter over as if he hadn’t peeled out of the parking lot like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

  To be fair, that wasn’t far from the situation . . . and maybe for Mackenzie this was the new normal.

  Spencer smiled, clearly ready to go back into full-on charm mode again. “Nothing. I’m curious about that yoga move you mentioned, though. Does the downward-facing klutz transition into any other interesting positions?”

  Mackenzie reddened, but she didn’t look like she had any intention of backing down.

  “I’m serious, Spencer.”

  “Oh, me too. Have you and Logan tried any advanced poses together? Because I’m more than happy to give my buddy here some pointers.”

  “Spencer is having some girl troubles right now,” Logan answered for him, which probably broke some friendship rule. Although I was willing to bet that a quick punch on the shoulder would be enough to wipe the slate clean.

  Izzie didn’t make much of an effort to hide her disdain. “Why? Has he run out of girls to sleep with or something?”

  She was probably already calculating the most likely percentage of girls he’d had sex with in each class.

  “Not yet, obviously. But I’m more than happy to remedy that error.” Spencer gave her a slow once-over and I could’ve sworn the tips of Izzie’s ears reddened. “What do you say, Isadore?”

  “Isobel.”

  He shrugged. “You say potato, I say—”

  “My name. Correctly.” She shoved her glasses up higher. “His girl troubles no longer surprise me. I’m just amazed he’s ever able to keep one interested long enough to have a problem.”

  Spencer laughed outright at that, but sobered when Mackenzie tried to discreetly elbow him.

  “Yeah . . . the problem is that they won’t leave him alone.”

  I couldn’t help staring in disbelief, first at Logan as his words began to sink in, and then at the imperturbable Spencer King.

  As far as problems went . . . that was a pretty great one to have.

  “I fail to see the problem here,” Izzie said abruptly. “He clearly has a short attention span. So why exactly is it a bad thing that he’s the one being pursued?”

  Spencer moved forward, and though there was nothing overtly threatening about the sudden movement, I watched Izzie’s shoulders instantly hunch as he drew near. He paused only when they were well within touching distance—within kissing distance—forcing Izzie to struggle to hold her ground. I’d expected her to trip over her own feet in her haste to put some space between them.

  But she stuck it out. Barely.

  “There is showing interest and then there is pursuit. I don’t happen to enjoy it when people don’t respect my boundaries.” He cocked his head in a thoughtful examination as Izzie struggled to breathe naturally. “How do you like it?”

  I couldn’t tell if he was coming on to my best friend, making a point, or terrifying her; either way, I instinctively wanted to put a halt to it.

  Izzie wasn’t prepared for Spencer’s kind of games, and the last thing she needed was to get all wound up over a guy who didn’t stick around. She was just back to eating normally. If Spencer ended up kicking her to the curb for Fake and Bake, I wasn’t sure how long it would take to raise her self-esteem out of the gutters.

  Logan interceded before I did, though. “Shut up, Spencer.”

  Which looked like exactly the response Spencer had wanted, given the way his shoulders relaxed as he leaned against the front porch of Mackenzie’s house. “No problem.”

  Then he began whistling cheerfully.

  Izzie and I traded looks. Hers said quite clearly, What the hell am I doing here? You’ve got to find a way to get me out of this! I shook my head just to make sure she knew that there was no way she was ditching me now.

  Not when awkward tension was already filling the air.

  Still, Spencer was true to his word; he didn’t speak while he waited for Mackenzie to unlock her front door. But then it swung open as if we were all cast in some painfully overly choreographed play.

  And on the other side of it stood Dylan Wellesley.

  He was absolutely filthy. Dirt was smeared on his face, in his hair, and down his whole left side, so that it looked as if he had decided to rub himself against the side of a mountain or fought a losing battle with a landslide. Seeing him so thoroughly coated with dirt should have been funny, but I couldn’t manage even a hoarse laugh because my body seemed to go on the fritz. My heart started beating too quickly, my pulse started racing as if we had a whole pack of Notable girls armed with hairspray and tweezers sneaking up behind us. I shoved my hands in my pockets because any second they were going to start shaking with nerves.

  It was ridiculous. I half-wanted Izzie to tug me out of sight and force me to snap out of it. Dylan wasn’t the first boy to make me go a little weak at the knees. He also wouldn’t be the last. Although I still freaking hated that he had this effect on me.

  I mean, let’s be real: Most high school relationships end. They fray under the pressure of waiting for college acceptance letters and come completely unraveled as soon as a long-distance relationship becomes a reality. And sure, some people defy the odds and end up marrying their high school sweethearts. Some people find a way to stay together despite everything life throws in their path. Some people also win the freaking lottery—that didn’t mean the odds were in my favor. The very last thing I needed was a relationship complicating things even further. Not when I had classes to pass, tests to take . . . guidance counselors to impress when they inevitably poured over a handful of standardized tests and tried to use it to divine my future.

  Ahh . . . you scored well on your SAT II for the Spanish language exam. That might help compensate for your abysmal score in math. Congratulations, you might not be doomed to a crappy minimum wage job after all!

  Too bad my racing pulse wasn’t willing to consider all the reasons why getting involved with anyone—let alone someone as intertwined in my life as my close friend’s little brother—was a bad idea right now.

  “Um . . . hi, Dylan,” I mumbled. “Fancy seeing—I mean, it’s . . . uh, good to see you.”

  I glanced over at Izzie to see if she had even noticed my near fumble with our code. She seemed a little preoccupied giving her glasses a quick cleaning.

  So much for having a brilliant observer of human nature watching my back every step of the way.

  Dylan grinned, as if seeing me on his doorstep automatically canceled out every annoyance that might have accrued over the course of the day. The interest, the keen sense of attraction that I was determined to keep under wraps, was written all across his face for everyone to see, right beneath the mud and dirt that streaked his jaw, the left side of his nose, and his temple.

  I wanted to dismiss him as cute—adorable, even—in an open, puppy-doggish kind of way. To shrug it off as some fleeting infatuation from some kid who was going through a stage and be content knowing that when Dylan Wellesley looked back at his life, he would have fond memories of his first
crush on Melanie Morris. That he would idly wonder whatever happened to me before he shrugged and then greeted his perfect girlfriend, who was probably just returning home from her morning run. He deserved that kind of happiness; the cup of coffee with his soul mate over breakfast every day thing.

  And that girl was never going to be me, because I wasn’t cut out for that kind of life.

  Not when I needed to devote a large chunk of my time to making sure my dad didn’t choke to death on his own vomit.

  Which didn’t stop Dylan from self-consciously wiping at his cheek to remove the mud. “Hey, Melanie. I haven’t seen you since—”

  “Yeah, long time no see.” I winced when I realized just how closely my words echoed the ones that Spencer had used to shoo away Fake and Bake. “Um . . . we were just going to watch a movie, but I actually have a lot of homework waiting for me, so . . .”

  For some reason Dylan refused to take the hint. I could tell that he was hearing my message loud and clear; his eyes narrowed, his jaw tightened, and he nodded slightly. But he didn’t appear discouraged.

  And he never took those enigmatic espresso brown eyes off me.

  “I’m betting my sister would be happy to help you with your homework,” Dylan said easily, as he stepped out of the doorway. “Isn’t that right, Mack?”

  “Of course, but I thought you felt pretty good about your history test after our study session yester—”

  Mackenzie never got a chance to finish that sentence because Izzie interrupted. “Do you have popcorn?”

  At least Izzie was following our previously established protocol.

  “I’ve been sort of craving . . . popcorn recently.” The freshly cleaned glasses were shoved higher up her nose again. “So if you don’t have any, I was thinking maybe Melanie and I could pick some up before we start the movie. Maybe . . .”

  Izzie was just as bad at covering for me as I was at doing it myself, but oddly enough it seemed to work. Mackenzie didn’t suspect a thing. She just slung an arm across Izzie’s shoulders and led her inside, right past where Spencer stood examining them both with one sardonically raised eyebrow.

  “I think we have some popcorn. Unless Dylan has already eaten the entire contents of the house. Again,” Mackenzie said.

  Dylan lifted his hands in mock innocence. “I haven’t touched it. The Pringles, on the other hand . . . yeah, those are history.”

  Mackenzie laughed and gave her brother a playful shove, but Logan lagged behind her. He paused and then looked pointedly from me to Dylan as if he wanted to deliver some kind of warning but found himself at a loss for words. I almost felt sorry for the guy; it had to be hard picking up on social tension that went straight over his girlfriend’s head, especially since it involved her only sibling. Thankfully, he held his tongue and followed the girls inside. Spencer trailed after Logan, but his smirk made it clear that he knew I had something unfinished with Dylan. Then again, we had hit the dance floor at his party together before everything went to hell.

  Maybe he had remembered that when he accepted Mackenzie’s invitation. That’s certainly how it looked to me when he winked before he sauntered inside.

  Leaving me completely alone with Dylan.

  I seriously considered making a run for it. Just booking it across the weed-strewn lawn, leaping over the mud-caked soccer ball resting against the base of the single tree on their property as I sprinted for the street. Three blocks from where I stood was an elementary school, a block past that was a chain store where I could probably lose him if he decided to pursue.

  Except I would have to explain to Mackenzie later why I had fled from her younger brother. And considering that he had never once done anything to me, unless smoldering glances counted, that wasn’t something I wanted to discuss. Mackenzie might be oblivious sometimes, but she wasn’t stupid.

  At some point she would figure it out if I didn’t keep my feelings tucked away.

  “So are you avoiding me now?” Dylan asked, his words at odds with the total unconcern in his face. “Or is there some other reason you look like you’re ready to head for the hills?”

  Crap. Apparently there was nothing subtle about my reactions.

  “No. Nope. Not at all . . . I don’t know what you could be talking about.”

  Dylan merely grinned. “You want to rethink that answer? Because the last time we were alone, I had my hands on your waist and then I moved them to your—”

  My face flushed as I mentally replayed that moment at Spencer’s party. I didn’t need to hear Dylan remind me how great it felt to have my arms wrapped around his neck, my fingers toying with his hair, my body pressed against his, as we moved in time to the music. Just like I didn’t need him to make any comments about the way his hands had slowly moved down my back in a caress that I could easily have broken if I had wanted to protest.

  But I hadn’t.

  I blew out a frustrated breath as I forced myself to walk toward him. “I remember it, thanks. I just don’t think we need to talk about that night. It was obviously a mistake. So . . . let it go, Dylan.”

  “Let it go?” Dylan pretended to consider the idea as the distance between us shrank.

  My body felt all tingly as I drew up within touching distance. I had half-hoped he would step back into the house so that I could pass him in the hallway with my sense of personal space perfectly intact.

  Yeah, like that was really going to happen. Even with ten feet between us there was something about his gaze that left me feeling like I was pressed against him as closely now as I had been on the dance floor.

  “There’s just one thing stopping me from doing that, Melanie. Something you seem to be forgetting.”

  “Oh yeah?” I said with false bravado as I pressed myself against the doorjamb so that I wouldn’t accidentally brush against him. “What’s that?”

  Dylan leaned forward and I fought the urge to remove a clump of mud from his hair. “You made me promise to stay close.”

  My breath caught as he inched forward.

  “And I always keep my promises, Melanie.”

  Chapter 5

  Prom tickets will be going on sale this week and run $12 for one ticket and $20 for a pair. So time to pluck up the courage to ask the person who has your heart. Don’t forget: The memories you create this night will follow you for the rest of your life.

  So go big or stay home.

  —from “Preparing for Prom,”

  by Lisa Anne Montgomery

  Published by The Smithsonian

  Mackenzie called my name and I used the distraction to scramble past Dylan.

  It wasn’t like he didn’t already know how his proximity got to me. Dylan was an observant guy, and there was no way he had failed to notice my pulse thrumming erratically in my neck, my uneven jerky breathing, the way I had forced my fingers to cling to the pockets of my jeans so they wouldn’t be tempted to venture anywhere else. I felt like I had pretty much plastered an enormous sign on my forehead that read, Melanie Morris has a crush on Dylan Wellesley.

  And I knew that if I told him to back off, he would instantly give me space.

  All I had to say was, “That’s one promise I don’t want you to keep anymore, Dylan,” and he would respect my wishes. He wouldn’t even consider going around them, because if anyone tried to pull that crap with his sister, he would go ballistic. Logan and Dylan seemed to get along just fine, but there was no doubt in my mind that if Dylan heard Mackenzie crying, he would get right in the hockey captain’s face.

  I doubted Dylan would appreciate it, but the word that most readily came to mind when I thought of him was sweet. Hot chocolate sweet. The kind that made me feel warm and safe while I melted like a marshmallow.

  So he didn’t try to stop me from hurrying over to the others even though I knew he’d probably been hoping I’d answer the one question that always seemed to hang heavy in the air between us.

  Am I willing to give us a shot or not?

  And all I’d been able to d
etermine with any real sense of certainty was . . . not now.

  “There you are, Melanie.” Mackenzie held up the DVD of Pocahontas and gestured at the couch where Izzie was perched nervously between two Notable hockey players, a bowl of popcorn sitting on her lap. “Are you ready?”

  “Um . . . sure.”

  Izzie tried to stand up but couldn’t seem to manage it without risking the upheaval of the snacks. “Here. Take my spot, Mel.” Her eyes were full of desperation.

  “That’s okay.” I didn’t want to get close to Spencer King any more than she did. I wasn’t about to discount the way he had winked at me earlier. So instead of allowing Izzie a safe escape, I sat down on the floor and leaned against the couch, effectively trapping her behind me.

  Izzie leaned forward so that she could whisper in my ear. “I will kill you for this, Mel. Someday. When you least expect it.”

  I forced out an incredibly fake-sounding laugh. “Good one, Izzie.”

  Spencer eyed us suspiciously. “Want to share the joke?”

  “No . . . just, y’know, classic Isobel Peters humor. This girl. Laugh a minute.”

  Izzie’s hands clutching the popcorn bowl turned white and I suspected it was because she was fighting the urge to dump it on my head.

  “That’s me, all right,” she said dryly, as Mackenzie popped in the DVD and reclaimed her seat on the couch next to Logan, scrunching Izzie even closer to Spencer in the process.

  I couldn’t help but notice the way Izzie drew her finger across her throat in the universal signal for impending murder. When Spencer glanced at her, she used that hand to hurriedly adjust her glasses as if that had been the plan all along.

  I doubted Spencer bought it for even a second, especially since his mouth quirked upward into an amused grin. Logan couldn’t have cared less about any of us. Mackenzie was cuddled up against his chest and judging by his smile, that automatically meant all was right with the universe. Meanwhile, I settled back against the couch, ready to watch the movie, play it cool, and get the whole awkward double date setup over with already.