Page 25 of Crashing Waves

I didn’t care how ridiculous it might look. I needed to wear something that was mine, apart from my underwear.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered with a hint of condescension.

I crossed the hall to my bedroom and sat on the bed to stuff my feet into my beat-up sneakers. Dad had coughed over the money for one pair at the beginning of the school year, nothing more, and I never complained. But now, I wished I had something else to wear. Something other than his shoes.

His form took up the doorway, throwing a shadow across the floor. I flicked my eyes up to look at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Remember what I said, boy. No hotels. No parties. You go to that dance, and you come right back here.”

“I have nowhere else to go.” I could barely hear my own voice as I grumbled.

“I was eighteen once. I know what you want to do to that girl.”

My hands stilled on the laces as what he said burrowed beneath my skin. What I wanted to dotoher, notwithher. Like a woman's body was something to take, steal, and not something to accept as an offering she willingly gave.

"I don't want to do anything to her," I said.

He scoffed. "You can't fool me, boy. I'm not an idiot. I'm not blind. I saw the way you looked at her. But there won't be any of that—do you understand me? Keep it in your goddamn pants."

My father had never spoken to me about sex before. Never gave methe talkor anything like that. Everything I knew, I'd learned at school or from the books I'd read. And judging from the way he was speaking about it, abouther, I was glad for it.

"Don't worry about me," I muttered, standing from the bed and hurrying to brush past him. "You never have. Don't need to start now."

I half expected for him to reach out and grab my arm or box the ear that had only started to heal from the last assault. But he didn't. He let me pass, and I ran down the stairs and out the door, not bothering to look back to see if he was watching me leave.

***

I met Ricky and Molly at the high school entrance. Ricky was in a tuxedo, looking more dapper than I’d ever thought possible, and Molly was in a formfitting black dress to match.

"You look very pretty, Molly," I told her, and her cheeks flushed.

"Oh, thanks," she said, fiddling with the ends of her curled chocolate-brown hair. "I borrowed this dress from my sister. She had worn it to her prom a couple of years ago."

I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what else to say, and I turned to watch the street for Laura. Guilt settled in my chest as I wondered if I should've picked her up. She had told me not to, had told me it was okay, but now that she was late, I hated the idea of her walking alone … until astation wagon pulled up to the curb, Laura in the passenger seat.

I hurried over to help her out, and as I pulled the car door open, a man's voice came from inside the car.

"Hey, are you Max?"

I crouched to meet the eyes of the older guy sitting beside her and nodded. "Yeah. Max Tailor, sir."

"Sir," he repeated, furrowing his brow and nodding thoughtfully. "Listen, Max Tailor. My daughter speaks very highly of you. I trust her. Don't disappoint me, all right?"

"I won't, sir."

He held my eyes for a brief moment, as if trying to find the proof that I could be trusted with his daughter. Something flickered over his gaze—a revelation—like he'd found what he was looking for, and he opened his mouth to speak when Laura groaned.

"Daddy, please. Max doesn't need to be interrogated right now."

He glanced at her and sighed. "Okay, okay. You kids have fun. Max, can I trust you to walk her home, or should I be back here later?"

"I can walk her, sir," I said.

He seemed satisfied with that answer, and I held out my hand for Laura. She laid hers in my palm, and I helped her out of the car. That was when I got a good look at her dress. It was long, like Molly's, but instead of being black, Laura's was a grayish blue that glinted with a silver sheen beneath the lampposts outside the high school. The skinny little straps lying over her shoulders glittered with gemstones, matching the earrings that dangled from herears, left naked from her long, dark hair twisted back in some complicated-looking style.

"Wow," I croaked.

I didn't need to go inside to know that my prettiest friend was hands down the prettiest girl at this dance, and she took my breath away, just as she had that first day I saw her months ago.

---