Suddenly the answer to that question was becoming very clear.
What was it with him? Was Cassidy so bewitching, or was I just so uninteresting?
Instead of proving I was no longer second-best, he was positively confirming it. I was torn between wanting to fight for his attention and wanting to kick him in the shins.
When the next song ended, I said, “I’m a little thirsty. Do you want to go get a drink?”
“Sure.” We strolled over to the refreshment table together; but he didn’t take my hand, and I didn’t take his. We picked up a couple of sodas and some heart-shaped sugar cookies, then headed up to the landing, where rows of tables and chairs waited. The music didn’t seem so loud here, but we could still see everybody on the dance floor.
I sunk down into a chair, and Josh sat down beside me. He took a slow drink of soda. I broke my heart cookie in two. Mrs. Mortenson, my English teacher, would have found that quite a symbolic thing to do. She had been lecturing us lately about symbolism and was such an expert on the matter that I’m sure she could have found meaningful symbolism in the ingredients list of a box of crackers.
I nibbled on one end of the cookie. Also symbolic. Eat your heart out.
And then I laughed a little. Usually I couldn’t keep my mind off guys during English class. Now, here I was on a date thinking of literary terminology. What a good example of situational irony.
Josh looked over at me questioningly, but I didn’t explain myself. If he wanted me to share my thoughts, then he could at least pay attention to me for two consecutive minutes.
After a few moments of silence he said, “So how are the sports teams doing this year?”
“About the same. We win some; we lose some.”
He nodded. “That’s good.” Then he glanced over at Cassidy again.
I had to quell the urge to say, “If you want to rest your eyes for a while, I’ll take a turn staring at her.”
We finished eating the rest of our cookies in silence; then because he probably couldn’t think of any more small talk, he said, “Do you want to dance some more?”
“Sure.”
We both got up and walked toward the dance floor. Elise, Tyson, Cassidy, and Logan stood together at the edge of the floor talking, and as we walked near them Elise waved at us to come over.
Josh walked over to her, and I followed him. “Hey,” he said. “How are you guys doing?”
“Wonderful as always,” Elise replied.
I didn’t mean to end up standing next to Logan, but somehow it happened. He looked me over with a smirk I couldn’t interpret.
I wanted to talk to him, but not in front of this group. I listened to Elise, Josh, and Tyson talk for a minute. When I was sure no one was watching Logan or me, I glanced over at him. The moment I did, he returned my gaze. I leaned closer to him and whispered, “I won our bet, you know.”
“Congratulations.”
“I’m free next Saturday night.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up at six.”
I smiled and turned back to the rest of the group. I should have felt a little bit guilty about arranging one date in the middle of another, but I didn’t. I just looked attentively over at everybody and pretended to follow the conversation.
Logan leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Is that all you have to say?”
“What do you mean?”
Still whispering, he said, “I thought you had a bunch of backlogged insults to tell me.”
“Oh, yeah.” I thought for a moment and then said, “Rap music is awful, Freud was weird, and Doug Campton needs to grow up.”
“What about me?”
“You’re annoying.”
“That’s it? That’s your backlog? After two whole weeks?”
“I’m just not a cynical or critical person.” I only blushed slightly as I told him this.
“Even Josh said so.”
And this was the point that Josh decided to tune into our conversation.
“What did I say?” he asked.
I didn’t want to repeat any part of the conversation, so I just pretended I had no idea what he was talking about. I gave him a slightly confused look. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘What did I say?’ ’’Josh answered.
I blinked at him a couple of times. “I give up. What did you say?"
I could tell Josh was weighing whether or not it was worth trying to clarify things when Elise chimed in. “I know what you said. When we were back home, you said you’d save me a dance.” She held out her hand to him. “They just started one I like. Let’s go.”
Josh turned to me apologetically. “I did promise her that. I’ll be back in a bit,” and then he walked onto the dance floor with Elise. She called over her shoulder to Tyson, “You can dance with someone else for a minute—why don’t you ask Cassidy?”
Cassidy’s eyes widened, but Tyson didn’t seem the least bit put out by Elise’s request.
He just held out his arm to Cassidy and said, “Shall we?”
Cassidy shot Logan a look to see if he would protest; but when he didn’t, she took Tyson’s arm, and they walked to the dance floor.
For a moment neither Logan nor I said anything, and then he tilted his head at me. “I guess that leaves us. Do you want to dance?”
I held out my hand in reply. He took it in his, and we walked down to the dance floor.
I was holding hands with Logan at the prom. How odd. Surreal was the term Mrs. Mortenson would have used. Surreal and . . . , but then I couldn’t think of another word that quite fit.
English 315 had failed me.
Before I could get any ideas I shouldn’t have, I reminded myself that Logan didn’t really want to be with me. He wanted to be dancing with Cassidy. Just like Josh.
Logan led me to the back of the crowd and then took me loosely in his arms. I caught whiffs of his aftershave and could feel his shoulder muscles through his tux. I suddenly found it hard not to get ideas, so I glanced around the room so I didn’t have to look at him.
Elise and Josh were dancing not far away. They moved across the floor, talking in a casual sort of way; and I wondered if he would pay attention to his sister, or whether any moment now his Cassidy-tracking radar would kick in and he’d ignore Elise too.
Logan put his hand on my back, and we danced slowly in rhythm to the music. I had the urge to lean in close to Logan’s neck and breathe in more of his aftershave, but I didn’t.
Instead, I watched Josh over Logan’s shoulder.
Had I been expecting too much tonight? All I had wanted was a nice romantic evening. I’d looked forward to this night for years. I’d bought a dress, wrangled a last -minute date, decorated the room, and done my hair—all so I could have one night of romance.
*Instead, I was watching my date watch someone else, and I was having thoughts about a guy whose main goal for the last two weeks was to force me into a date with another guy so he could go out with another girl. It was horrible.
Logan held me a little away from him so we could talk. “So, are you having a good time tonight?”
*I glanced over at Josh again. “What is it with men anyway?"
“I guess that means no.”
I shook my head because I didn’t want to explain. “I’ve come to the conclusion that any guy under twenty-one is terminally immature.”
*He winced. “Harsh. Exactly what did Josh do?”
“It’s not what he did. It’s just t h at . . . ” I tilted my head up at Logan. “It’s prom night—girls look forward to it. You’re a guy. Tell me, why is it guys can’t be ro mantic?”
“Ahh,” Logan nodded knowingly. “I see. Josh didn’t lavish you with enough compliments.”
I almost said, He hasn’t paid attention to me long enough to come up with a compliment.
“I don’t know why I asked you. You couldn’t say something romantic if your life depended on it.”