Page 55 of Old Acquaintances

He said, “Call Tuck. There’s got to be someone on the team he can hook you up with. A junior maybe.”

I laughed at the thought. The last person I wanted to speak with was Tucker. He’d be so smug -I told you he was an asshole- and he’d prefer that I stay home in my sweatpants anyway.

I spent all of Friday night and Saturday morning in my bed, watching movies and texting my girlfriends while they went to get their hair and nails done. I called out of ballet rehearsals. I told everyone I was sick. At that point, I nearly was. After midday, someone knocked on my door.

“Hattie?” I sat up, watching my sister come in with her makeup bag. She should have been in Georgia, in grad school. I wasn’t supposed to see her for weeks. “What are you doing here?”

She smiled. “Getting you ready for prom.”

My throat clogged. “But I’m not going.”

“I know what happened.” She went to my vanity and turned on the lights.

I tucked my feet underneath me and said, “Mom called you?”

“No.” She set her makeup on the counter. “Tucker did.Andhe paid for my gas.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” I crawled to the edge of the bed, watchingher fix her dark bob, the sides of her mouth twitching. “What do you mean? Tucker called you and he told you to come here? Why would he do that, how does he even -”

“He’s downstairs,” she interrupted. “Dad’s going to let him drive his car so you don’t have to show up in that dirty truck. God knows what’s growing in that thing.” She raised her eyebrows at my confused expression. “He’s taking you to prom.”

“Tucker’s taking me to prom?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s downstairs?”

“Yes.”

I shot out of bed. My socks slid on the carpet, and I bounced down the stairs, running into the kitchen. My mom looked up from the soup she stirred on the stove. I skated to a stop and begged, “Where’s Tucker?”

“Outside. Ask him if he wants any -”

I ran out into the garage. I scooted down the aisle between the van and the lawnmower and our bikes to where he stood beside my dad’s silver BMW, the two of them talking. Tucker looked up when he saw me. His eyes softened. I walked up to him, my socks wet from the damp driveway, my oversized New York City Ballet shirt swinging in the breeze, my greasy hair sticking up.

“You’re taking me to prom?” I awed. “But what about Angel? I thought you were going with her?”

My dad moved out of the way, and Tucker blinked, swallowing. He ran a hand through his hair. “She broke up with me.”

“Oh.”

Tucker paused. “So, I just figured…it makes sense for us…you know…”

“You called Hattie?”

His cheeks turned pink. “Well, I mean, I figured you’d needall the help you can get.” He gestured to my appearance. “By the way, you should get started on that.”

I didn’t think I had tears left, but they sprang to the surface, my heart swelling. I ran to him and wrapped my arms around Tucker’s waist. I buried my face into his chest and said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

I’d never hugged him before. We weren’t huggers.

After a moment, his hands found their way to my back and his nose landed atop my head. “Please go wash your hair,” he begged, hot breath hitting my scalp.

I lifted my head. “I promise, I’m going to be the hottest date you’ve ever had.”

He winced. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

I reached up and pulled his face down, kissing him on the cheek.

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