Fresh tears burn down my cheeks. “I thought so.”
“Oh, honey.” She pulls me inside and shuts the door, and I guess I’m so starved for a motherly touch that I let it happen. “Don’t tell me Sean stood you up.”
I wince at the words and the rest of the story falls from my lips.
She hands me a tissue and cookie as I talk; I’m not even sure where she produced either one, but I devour the warm cookie. I almost ask for the recipe, but now’s not a good time.
“I’m going to kill that boy,” she mutters.
“It’s fine,” I stand abruptly. “I’m the one who got the message confused.” The message being, Sean doesn’t care about me. It was another one of his classic pranks or bets.What does he win for breaking my heart?
“No. It’s not fine. But rest assured, I will take care of this.” She stalks out of the room, and without her comforting presence, I feel like an intruder. Do I stay? Does she expect me to?
An older man, who looks exactly like Sean in twenty-five years, walks by and says ‘hi’, like seeing a random girl in his house is no big deal. I wave, and he continues into the living room and flicks on the TV.
What is happening right now?
I’m making a huge mistake, that’s what’s happening. I dash out of the room.
“London?” Mrs. Bentley calls, stopping me in the foyer. “Great news, Trent’s going to take you. He’s getting dressed right now.”
“Oh.” That is not what I had in mind. I don’t want to be a pity date. “That’s fine, I’m sure he has better things to do. I was going to ask my friend if she would come with me.”
“Oh nonsense,” she waves her hand and the diamonds on her wrist catch the light. “The girl he wanted to ask was already taken so he was just upstairs sulking. I promise I didn’t have to drag him into it. He heard your name and instantly perked up.”
Trentisa good friend. I suppose I wouldn’t feel too awkward going with him. Even if he’d rather be there with another girl.
“I guess if it’s really okay with him.”
“It’s really okay,” Trent says, stepping into the foyer with a grin. “Wow…” he blushes. “You look beautiful.”
Mrs. Bentley beams, clearly proud of at least one of her sons' chivalry.
My cheeks warm, and I can almost pretend this was how the night was supposed to go all along. “Thank you. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Are you kidding? I’m officially the luckiest guy in the school.” His smile almost makes me think he means that.
Trent escorts me out the door and we inform Monica of the new plan, which she is very much a fan of. She tells me to have fun and to text her later.
Only when we are in his car on the way to the dance do I let the facade drop. People call me Sunny because I’m always happy. It was interesting at first because I didn’t think I was. I was still mourning my mother who died four years ago. But when my dad moved me out of gloomy Washington and dropped me in the middle of the desert, that was apparently all I needed to be happy again. But right now I don’t feel happy at all.
“You really don’t have to do this. I don’t care if I miss prom,” I say quickly because it’s a complete lie. I would care a lot. This is the first dance I've been asked to and it’s not going how I expected at all.
“Iwould care if you did,” Trent says. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because my brother is a jerk.”
“He’s not—” But I can’t finish the thought. It’s the truth.
“Come on, let’s go show my brother what he’s missing out on.” He parks and hops out, coming to my side.
I accept his help. “No offense, but I don’t want to think about your brother.”
“None taken. He’s the last thing on my mind right now.” Trent smiles and extends his hand. I take it, enjoying the warmth of his palm and the tiny flutter of butterflies in my chest.
“Let’s get you on the dance floor.”
“Fair warning, I’m not a great dancer,” I say.
“You don’t need to be to have fun.”
