Happenstance 3 (Happenstance 3)

“Are you still working at the DQ?” Brian asked, his round cheeks moving his equally round eyes when he spoke.

“Yes,” I said, trying not to shrink back from Janelle’s stare.

She was unhappy that he had addressed me.

A loud cackle came from someone passing by, and then I saw Brady Beck.

He knocked on our table with his knuckles and nodded to Brian. “Oh, man. Bad luck.”

Brian made a face as he watched Brady walking away. “That’s just rude, dude.” He shook his head and then let Brady’s words roll off. “I was wondering what it’s like to work with Frankie. She seems crazy!” he said, chuckling.

“She’s pretty fun,” I said.

Janelle sighed and rolled her eyes. She scanned the room again and then touched Brian’s arm. “There are two chairs over there!” she said, eager.

Brian stumbled over his next words, desperately trying to cover for his date.

“No one is forcing you to sit here,” Weston said. “If you’re going to be a bitch, I’d rather you leave.” His fingers squeezed mine, his cheeks flushing red against his tan skin.

I squeezed his hand back, silently begging him not to make a scene.

Janelle didn’t answer. Instead, she turned her attention to the decorations and then waved to her friends across the room.

Brian offered an apologetic expression, and he began to open his mouth to change the subject, but then our server set plates of food in front of Janelle and me. Janelle seemed pleased with the distraction, but she didn’t thank the awkward, gangly red-haired girl who had served us.

Moments later, two more plates were delivered.

“Thank you,” I said.

The girl smiled brightly, thrilled to be acknowledged. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m glad she has that mess pulled back into a ponytail,” Janelle grumbled. “I don’t want her hair in my food. It looks like red pubes.”

Brian grimaced. “She’s trying really hard, Janelle. Give her a break.”

As we picked over our greasy chicken breasts and bland green beans, Weston cringed. “Wow, this is…”

“At least the rolls are good,” Brian said, chewing.

I couldn’t help but smile. I liked Brian.

Janelle dropped her fork against the plate. “Disgusting every year. I wish they would just let us eat at a restaurant and then come here for the dance.”

After dessert, the DJ introduced himself and welcomed us to prom. He announced the main chaperones and sponsors, and then he put on an upbeat song to initiate a line dance. I was one of a handful of girls who didn’t rush to the dance floor. Whoever didn’t know the moves were giggling while trying to learn it.

Weston watched with a smile on his face. He seemed content with sitting next to me, his arm resting on the back of my chair.

Brian leaned in closer and spoke loudly so that we could hear him over the music, “Are you excited for Duke?”

Weston shook his head. “I’m not going to Duke.”

“What?” Brian asked, confused.

“I’m going to the Art Institute of Dallas,” Weston said with pride.

“Since when?”

“Since I applied and was accepted.”

“Is your dad mad?” Brian asked.

Weston shook his head. “He was surprised.”

“I’ll bet,” Brian said, raising his eyebrows. A few beads of sweat had begun to form at his hairline, and he tugged at his collar. “I gotta take this off. I’m burning up.” He removed his tux jacket and swung it around the back of his chair.

Weston did the same and then looked at me. “You wanna dance?”

I shook my head.

The current song ended, and a ballad came over the speakers. Chairs squeaked across the tile floor as the boys stood to join their dates on the dance floor.

“C’mon,” Weston said, shamelessly begging me with his beautiful eyes.

“O-okay,” I said, taking his hand.

Weston found an open spot and then spun me around before pulling me close. He pulled my hands up and behind his neck, and I clasped my fingers together. He settled his hands on the small of my back and took the first side step.

“I don’t dance,” I said.

Weston didn’t hear me at first, so I leaned up on the balls of my feet and repeated the words next to his ear.

He touched his cheek to mine and then kissed my forehead. “I don’t either, but I’ll dance with you.”

I rested my temple against his chest as I let him sway me back and forth to the music. We were stiff and not at all graceful, but I didn’t care who was watching or what they might be thinking.

All that mattered was that I was with Weston Gates. I had imagined it many times before, including the previous year when I had been making dip cones and Blizzards instead of attending prom. Now that I was with exactly whom I had always dreamed of, my only goal was to be present and live in these few minutes of time, for as long as they lasted, and enjoy every second of it.

By the gentle way Weston was pulling me against him, I thought that maybe he was thinking the same.

“I’ve spent a lot of time trying not to hope for this night with you,” Weston said into my ear. “But the harder I tried, the more I thought about it. I wasn’t sure how I could make it happen, but by some miracle, you’re here, in my arms. I don’t want to think about graduation or this summer or even two hours from now. Right now is the best it’s ever been for me. In this moment, you’re my entire universe, shining in all the right places.”

He slid his fingers over the jewels at the small of my back and smiled.

I hugged him tighter to me, trying to make the world stop, to make time pause, as I wished that we could somehow remain there forever.

When I glanced at a small group of boys clustered a few feet away, I knew they had no plans of letting that happen.

Chapter Six

“JESUS, GET A ROOM, GATES,” Brady said, standing on the outskirts of the dance floor with his group of friends.

Weston simply raised his fist, lifted his middle finger, and then returned his hand back to me. He didn’t even look at Brady.

Never one to be ignored, Brady took the few steps to where we were dancing and craned his neck at Weston. “I remember when you were on this dance floor last year, feeling up Alder every time you got a chance.”