Page 72 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
He grins, handing over the bouquet of flowers. “The coolest.”
As I bury my nose in the flowers, my heart swells so wide it could burst right out of my chest.
“But don’t tell my friend Ive,” he continues. “I’ve kinda had a crush on her for forever—can’t let her think I’m straying.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.” I take a chance and another step toward him, the flowers pressed between our chests. I lower my voice even though there’s no one around to eavesdrop and lean in until I’m close enough to watch his cheeks bloom pink as the peonies. “And I may have heard through the grapevine that she has a crush on you too.”
His hands come to rest against my waist, my skin igniting under his touch. “You think?”
“I know.”
I step even closer, resting my hand over his heart, the rapid pounding beneath my fingers making me blush down to my toes. But before I can move to close the distance, he grabs my wrist.
“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his voice so soft and somber it makes my stomach clench. “Next year, you’re gonna be in the city, and I’ll just…be here.”
It’s the most vulnerable I’ve seen him since Mrs.Romero and Isabella left, his brown eyes glossy and his cheeks tinged pink. He avoids my gaze, as if he’s ashamed of opening himself up tome.
I’m not sure what the future will hold for us. Whether the distance will tear us apart, or if it’ll just make coming home that much sweeter. Two months ago, I wouldn’t have thought it would be worth it. That we’d be doomed to end up like every cliché high school love story—like Mami and Papi. Like me and Danny. But I don’t care, so long as it means I’ll have him. Even if it’s just for a moment.
I rest my hand on his cheek and tilt his face toward mine.
“All I want is you.”
We move in sync, him leaning down and me going onto the tips of my toes until our lips meet halfway in a kiss that makes me lose my balance. His grip around me tightens, crushing the flowers between us as he pulls me against his chest, my body stretching to its limits just to meet him, but I don’t mind so long as I’m kissing him until we’re breathless.
When we break, his palm cups my cheek, a tender moment before he flips us around, gently hoisting me onto Herbert’s hood before pulling my face back to his and kissing me harder, faster. It’d be so easy to lose myself to this feeling. The taste of peppermint ChapStick and honey, the scent of Irish Spring and coconut hand lotion, and the pad of his thumb digging into the bare skin where my shirt has ridden up.
Kissing Joaquin Romero is better than slushies, better than Marco’s, better than roller coasters, because he is all of my favorite things at once.
The third time we pull apart, we’re heaving for breath, our lips so close it takes the fear of passing out not to lean in and kiss him again. The boy in front of me is so familiar, and yet so startlingly different. His lips red and kiss swollen, his curls mussedin a way I’ve never seen before. I didn’t think it was possible, but I fall even more in love with him.
Instead of leaning in for a fourth time, Joaquin’s head falls against my shoulder, a soft laugh making his shoulders quiver. “I’ve wanted to do that for a really long time,” he says, the words muffled by the fabric of my sweater.
“Did it meet your expectations?” I ask, a hint of nervousness behind it. What felt mind-blowing to me might not have felt that way for him, considering I haven’t kissed someone since freshman year.
He leans back and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on the edge of my jaw. “Surpassed them.”
Unable to wait another second, I grab hold of his collar, pull him in, and give myself over to the purest joy I’ve ever known. Because I can kiss him again. Today, tomorrow, every day.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Stop, stop, i’m goingto cry!” Mami squeals as I step out of my bedroom for the grand reveal, fanning away the tears threatening to ruin her mascara.
Nurse Oatmeal gives her seal of approval by nuzzling her head against my shoes.
“Ven pa’ca,” Doña Carmen calls out, urging me to come back to the room I’d just made my dramatic exit from.
I teeter back to her, struggling to balance in my just-bought-last-night heels, and praying I don’t break my neck before Joaquin gets here. She’s waiting at the edge of my bed with a safety pin and a determined expression on her face. She fusses with the back of my left sleeve, pinching and tucking until it’s pulled more tightly across my shoulder.
“So you can dance,” she explains once the last pin has been slipped into place.
I give her a twirl in the mirror. As promised, I can movefreely now without the fear of my left shoulder strap sliding down and exposing my goods to the world.
The fact that I’m even in this dress right now is miraculous. Anna wasn’t kidding, the pickings for prom dresses this late in the game were dreadfully slim. With less than a week to find something, I either had to buy a dress in store ASAP or cough up another three figures for express shipping. With my in-person options being various types of unflattering animal print, I was ready to show up to prom in jeans.
Thankfully, Mami is a sentimental clothing hoarder, and we just happen to be the same size.
“It looks better now than it did when I bought it!” Mami exclaims as she joins me in front of the mirror.
