I Like The Way It Sounds

I woke up the next morning to Pat jumping on my bed, screaming that I had to make myself pretty for the dance. “I’m not pretty enough already, Patty?” I mumbled while tousling my bed-head and maneuvering myself away from his pounding feet. I made my way to the kitchen to a table packed with bagels and spreads and various Starbucks cups. Most of the boys were seated around the room, but John was talking to my Dad who was cooking some scrambled eggs on the stove. “Daddy!” I didn’t expect him home until much later and I waked over to greet him. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he gave me a one-armed hug as he continued to stir the food in front of him. “How was your trip?” “It was fine; I met a woman from Arizona. She works in Boston and was relocated just like we were.” His eyes lit up as he mentioned this lady. My mother had passed a long time ago and in over 10 years, I’d never heard him talk about a woman with potential interest. I smiled; ready to tease him as John eyed me warily, trying to gauge my reaction. Always the big brother, he was worried that I’d be hurt or upset by my Dad possibly dating again – especially after a boyfriend has just dumped me. Surprising them both, all I asked was, “Did you get her number?” with a wink before stealing some eggs and heading towards the table to snag a bagel before Kennedy ate them all. I’m pretty sure that I heard John snort at the idea of his Uncle Rob asking a woman for her number, but my father reddened and sheepishly nodded his head.
After I ate, I hugged my Dad goodbye and grabbed some things I’d need to get ready for the day. Rummaging through the bathroom, I got my curling iron, straightener, body wash, razor, all of my hair stuff and my make up bag. As I was getting my clothes together in my room, Pat walked in. “I’m taking some of the guys to help me get stuff. What kind of flowers does Char like?” he paused, glancing back into the hall, “You too!” Garrett poked his head in, “You don’t need a boyfriend to get a corsage!” “Thanks guys,” they were so sweet! I showed them a picture of Charlotte’s dress so they could find something to match. Before I could tell them about myself, Garrett interrupted, “I got this!” With a knowing wink, he pulled Pat away. “Later, Prom Queen!” he called as the boys left the apartment. Ken stuck his head in too, to tell me that the rest of the guys were going to go find something to do. I followed them out the door, making my way to Charlotte’s.
A few hours (and worried phone calls from Pat) later, we were ready for prom. Char looked stunning; her brunette curls bouncing as she laughed at some dumb thing one of the boys had said. She had on a coral-y colored mermaid dress while I wore an olive flowy strapless gown with a beaded sweetheart neckline. As her charming date, Pat had bought her a corsage complete with a series of satin-y ribbons that matched the fabric of her dress exactly. He wore a charcoal grey suit with a white dress shirt and “coral” paisley tie that John couldn’t stop laughing at. We were all gathered in the lobby of my building posing for pre-prom pictures. The only one of us missing was Garrett because he’d insisted on changing before taking pictures with us. Apparently his skinny jeans and “Don’t make me lose my Tempe” shirt weren’t classy enough to be “worn around such pretty ladies” (a direct quote that was overheard with a glare from Patrick.)
I had taken individual shots with everyone in our group and my Dad. As I posed with Pat and Char (and looked like an awkward third wheel), I could hear that Garrett was getting off of the elevator. Instead of waiting until we were done with the photo, he ran up next to me to join the picture. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me close. From my peripheral vision, I caught a sneaky grin pulling at his features. After a few more clicks of the camera, I turned to see what he was smiling about.
Instead of the pale blue tee that had the name of my Arizona hometown, he had on a black suit with a matching black dress shirt. His hair was neatly combed, which was a rarity, and in his right hand, he held a bracelet. It was a silver chain wrapped around one of his white bass picks. There was a tiny pink flower painted on the pick, and, upon further inspection, I noticed that he still had paint on his callused fingers. He’d made this for me.
“I told you I had this,” he said with a smile. I was speechless but I beamed back in response. “Caite, can I take you to prom?” Unable to resist my usual obnoxious, but friendly, banter with him, I couldn’t help but correct him. “You MAY.” I giggled at myself as he made a face. I wrapped him in a hug and whispered a heartfelt “thank you” in his ear before pulling away. Before I could do anything else, he stepped back and looked straight into my eyes, “That’s what best friends are for, I love you, Caits.” I leaned in to give him a peck on the cheek, “I know, and I love you too – I just don’t deserve you.” I smiled and took his hand, leading him away to take more group shots as I adjusted my new bracelet-corsage on my wrist.