Page 28 of Crybaby

I want to look sexy with a dash of fuck off. My inclination is to pick black, but I saw a dark green dress in the store that reminds me of the forest I’ve become accustomed to walking through after school. It’s long but fitted through the bodice and sits off the shoulder. I want to rip the bottom off to make it shorter and wear some boots with it, but maybe that’s a bit much.

I’ll wear my boots under it, and no one will know, but at least I’ll keep true to myself. My long blonde hair looks good with green, and it sets off my eyes.

I get dressed in front of the mirror and slip a lighter into my boots. There’s not room for much else, so I’ll have to take a clutch for my phone.

I can hear the rumbling of a deep engine coming down the street, and I wonder if it’s Rev. I peer out the window and see a very old GT Mustang pull up. Weirdly, it’s also dark green, and suddenly, I feel like ripping my dress off for something else. If he’s wearing green as well, I’m outta here.

Grabbing my clutch, I race to the front door, not wanting my aunt and uncle to see the “delinquent” taking me to prom.

I open the door and need a moment because Rev stands before me wearing a black suit. His white shirt is unbuttoned, exposing an expanse of bronzed chest. His dark hair is long in the front, and strands fall down his face. I can see he tried to slick it back, but I don’t think anything about him behaves.

It looks hot as hell, and I try everything I can not to smile like a complete goofball. He likes what he sees, and my breath hitches when a lopsided smile appears on his face.

“You ready, Miss Darcie?”

From behind me, I can hear my aunt’s footsteps thundering out from the kitchen. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.

“Where in Sam hell do you think you’re going looking like that?” she bellows, wiping her hands on her apron. She’s not wearing her glasses, so she’s squinting like a day-old prune.

“Prom,” I say, trying not to laugh at Rev, whose mouth hangs open while he takes in the beast behind me.

I quickly shove him back toward the street, and once again, I seem to be dragging him along and running. We’re laughing as we launch ourselves into the car and speed off.

“What in Sam hell was that?” he says mid-cackle, bending over the steering wheel.

He drives super fast, like we are on the run even though my aunt couldn’t chase a snail. I find myself gripping the sides of my seat.

A smirk creeps over his mouth. He likes the control.

“Got any gum?” I yell over the sound of the engine.

I pop open the glove box in front of me, and I’m immediately starry-eyed by what I see.“Did you rob a jewelry store?” I say, reaching for a diamond-encrusted bracelet.

“Gifts,” he replies, eyes still fixed on the road.

“Gifts?”

It’s women’s jewelry. I slip a sapphire ring onto my middle finger, and it fits perfectly.

“For services rendered,” he adds, laughing as he breaks eye contact with the road to look at me with nothing but cheek behind his gaze.

I don’t want to ask any more questions.

Pulling into the parking lot of the school gym, I feel my nerves creeping up my neck. I’m wooden in my seat and stare ahead when I feel his hand cover mine. It squeezes, and at that moment, I take in a breath.

“You ready for this shit show?” he asks like he can read my mind.

“No. Yes,” I say, looking at his stunning face and trying to seem at ease.

We enter the gym, and it’s dark but covered in fairy lights, and the music is throbbing to the feeling in my chest. Familiar faces dance and weave into each other in an array of outfits that makes everyone look like someone else.

I can’t believe this lame rite of passage is something kids my age actually look forward to.

A small giggle escapes me, and Rev peers down at me, eyebrow cocked.

“I don’t see what the fuss is about,” I explain, taking in our classmates. “I mean, it’s just our gymnasium. Underneath the glittery lights and lame love songs, I can still smell armpits and see the outline of Coach Anderson’s junk in his way too tight white gym shorts.”

Rev continues looking at me with those inquisitive eyes before an amused snort leaves him. “You’re a tough crowd, firecracker,” he says, surprising me with the nickname.

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