Mom fixed my hair, plucking at some curls. “That’s sweet of him. I still don’t understand why you didn’t have a date, but I’m glad Corbin is such a gentleman.”
I’d been asked, but I’d turned everyone down. They were children compared to Manning, the only one I wanted. In size, he dwarfed them, but it was more than that. He carried himself differently. He looked at me like he owned part of my soul. The confidence that came through when he spoke, the ways he used his hands. I shivered as goose bumps traveled up my spine.
“Mom,” Tiffany said on her way out of the kitchen. “You’ll mess it up. You don’t understand how easy it is to lose volume.”
Mom stepped aside to give Tiffany access to my hair. “It looks beautiful, Tiffany.”
Tiffany checked the bobby pins. She’d spent over an hour drying and curling my long hair, then pinning half of it up. She’d hairsprayed the rest of the curls, but somehow, they were soft and bouncy on my shoulders. I hadn’t asked her to do all that, but I had to agree with Mom—it looked beautiful.
Tiffany turned me around by my shoulders. Eyebrows drawn, she scanned every inch of my face as if she’d be tested on it later. “You already smudged your liner. Don’t touch your eyes. Don’t cry. Your mascara’s waterproof but your eyeliner isn’t.”
“Don’t cry,” I repeated. “Got it.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes. “I meant happy tears.”
“You’re not wearing that.”
All three of us turned to my dad in the hallway.
My black, floor-length dress had a plunging “V” in the front and one in back. It was sexier than anything I’d ever owned, but I was so close to eighteen, I could taste it. It was time for Manning to see me as an adult. “Yes, I am.”
“Cathy,” Dad said in his are-you-serious tone.
“I helped her pick it out,” Mom said.
“It’s too revealing.”
“It’s too late,” Tiffany said. “Corbin will be here any minute.”
None of us had heard Manning come in the front door, but he walked up behind Dad. His eyes started at my hair and scanned over my collarbone, following the plunging neckline to the point between my breasts. “I agree with Charles,” he said.
What? He couldn’t be serious. I’d done all of this for him, from picking out the dress to giving Tiffany free rein over my hair and makeup.
“Manning,” Tiffany scolded. “You’re supposed to be on our side.”
“Find something else in your closet,” Dad said to me. “I already conceded about you getting a hotel room with your girlfriends for the night.”
Manning arched an angry, thick eyebrow. “A hotel room?”
Dad turned to Manning. “Her argument was that it was better she stay and watch out for her drunk friends. Do you believe it?”
Manning looked pissed. “No.”
“I don’t see why it needs to be so sexy,” Dad said. “At least find a sweater to put over it.”
“No,” I said, curling my hands into fists. Why did I need their permission to dress sexy when I was nearly eighteen? It seemed unfair. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me the last four years—longer even. I deserve this.”
“You’re being unreasonable, Charles,” Mom agreed.
“Because I want my daughter to come home safe?” he shot back.
“Daddy, she’s going with Corbin,” Tiffany said, walking over to stand in front of them. “You know Corbin. You know his dad and his family. Honestly, is there anyone safer she could be out with?”
Manning looked at the ground, but after a moment, Dad sighed in defeat. “I suppose not.”
A limo pulled up outside. My house had been designated the spot for our photoshoot, so next came the parents, who parked along the cul-de-sac.
“Looks like people are arriving,” Mom said, looking out the window. “Outside, everyone. Come on. Let’s not ruin Lake’s night before it’s begun.”
I’d gotten what I wanted, and maybe I should’ve been happy about that, but when Manning reached for Tiffany’s hand to lead her outside, all I felt was shock.
He reached for her hand.
Not the other way around.
It was a simple gesture, and maybe it didn’t mean anything—but maybe it did.
Corbin arrived next, slotting his dad’s Mercedes into the collection of foreign cars. He stepped out in one fluid movement, all six-foot-two of him, and buttoned his suit jacket. He’d gelled his hair off his face. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen him wear it that way. Smiling, he walked toward me. The red corsage he carried almost matched the sun-kissed tip of his nose, and I knew from that alone that he’d already taken his board out in the twelve hours since he’d flown in.
“Oh, my,” Mom said. “He’s grown up. Even more handsome since leaving for college. You’re a lucky girl, Lake.”
Corbin swooped in to kiss my cheek. “You’ve got it wrong, Mrs. Kaplan,” he said. “I’ll be the luckiest guy at the dance for sure.”