Page 74 of 10 Things I Hate About Prom
Joaquin takes my hand before I can pull away, delicately sliding the corsage onto my wrist. “A humble price to pay for a really good joke.”
I could pinch him or come up with a witty comeback, but I don’t do either. Instead, I revel in the way our hands slot together like we’ve been doing this for years and close my eyes when he leans in to press a kiss to my cheek.
“That’s the one!” Mami waves her phone in triumph, rushing over to me so quickly she nearly trips on the carpet.
Her phone is open to the last photo she took, capturing the serenity on my face as Joaquin kisses my cheek. It’s startling at first, seeing something so intimate. Mami’s usually a crappy photographer, but I have to give her props for this one. Somehowshe’s managed to immortalize the way I feel about him in a single photo.
That, when I’m with him, I feel at home.
“Text me that one?” I ask, struggling to drag my eyes away from the photo.
“Me too,” Joaquin adds, pulling me closer.
Moments after she sends it, he lets me go and taps at something on his phone before tucking it back into his pocket, the photo of us now set as his lock screen.
Twenty minutes later, and I’ve realized that leaving the house is more difficult than either of us thought. Mami insists on showing us every photo she took and FaceTiming my abuela. While being showered with compliments is very flattering, these shoes are starting to pinch my toes, and I want to get at least one dance in before giving up on them entirely.
“Take pictures! Drive safe!” Mami calls out to us from the doorway as we finally head out.
“She doesnotneed more pictures,” I mutter to Joaquin as he takes my hand in an iron grip, helping me stumble down the driveway.
“You sure you don’t want to wear chanclas?” Joaquin asks as I move at a snail’s pace of two steps a minute. “Because at this rate, we’re gonna get to prom in time to watch everybody leave for the after-party.”
I stick my tongue out at him and quicken my stride, nearlybreaking my neck in the process. To avoid getting myself killed before I can even get to the car, I readjust my grip and cling to him like a lifeline, relying on his sturdiness to move more quickly. “I did not spend the last of my savings on these just to show up wearing flip-flops.”
Once we’ve made it over to Herbert, Joaquin carefully lets go of me long enough to open the passenger side door. “Your chariot awaits.”
Thanks to our last-minute reunion, we won’t be showing up to prom in style. All of the pre-prom limos were booked, and while Tío Tony insisted that he could hook us up with a Lamborghini for the night, going in good ol’ Herbert feels more fitting.
Though, Joaquin did clean him for the occasion.
“Really pulling out all the stops here,” I say as I take my seat, running my finger along the freshly wiped down dashboard. No abandoned protein bar wrappers, or clumps of dust in sight. With the back seat free of dirty sneakers, cleats, and spare T-shirts, Herbert might as well have just rolled fresh off the lot. Well, a used lot.
“Special occasion.” Joaquin leans down with a mischievous smirk. “Forgot something. Be right back,” he says before pressing a kiss to my cheek and racing back to his house.
So much for hustling.
My date returns soon enough, hiding something behind his back. I roll down my window as he stands beside the passenger seat, gasping when he reveals two Marco’s slushies.
“For you,” he says with a grin as he hands me the piña colada slushie, taking the cherry one for himself.
“You’re a genius,” I tell him before closing my eyes and takingmy first sip. It’s been way too long since we’ve had these. The first sip is as glorious as I remembered, my entire body shivering from the cold. That ultimate slushie champion title was well-deserved.
Joaquin gets in on the driver’s side, not replying until he’s taken his own first mind-blowing sip. “Ididsay I’d only go to prom with you if we got slushies first.”
“And you are a man of your word.”
I follow his lead, savoring the rush of artificial coconut on my tongue, the taste of lazy summers and long drives with my favorite person. “Best Uber Eats driver ever. Five stars.”
“I’m honored.”
After a few sips, and a synchronized shoulder-shimmy celebration dance, we pop open the lids of our cups and combine our slushies together—creating our favorite cherry colada masterpiece. We sit in silence, basking in the sugar high and brain freeze until we realize it’s almost seven. No one shows up to prom at five like they’re supposed to, but two hours seems excessive. We kick Herbert into gear, and while stopped at a red light down the block, Joaquin goes to turn on the radio. I stophim.
“Can I play something?”
His brow furrows, but he switches the radio off without protest. I reach into the back seat for the hiding spot I’d stashedmysurprise in last night, pulling out the “Driving with Joaquin” CD I burned on Mami’s ancient desktop computer. A playlist ofhisfavorite songs—the ones we don’t often get to listen to because he’s so willing to let my music taste come first. Starting with “I Want You to Want Me.”
It feels strange at first, hearing the opening chords of a songhe’d meant to dedicate to Tessa. But the smile that blossoms on his face is well worth it.
