He pulls back enough that I can look up, see the sincere, adoring look in his eyes.
I thought I was over Cole. Everything with Erik has been going so well. I shouldn’t be freaking out like this ... Erik isn’t such a bad consolation prize, is he? I could fall for him, if I’d just stop thinking of Cole long enough to do it.
He pulls me close as one song melts into the next. I rest my cheek against the lapel of his tuxedo. His arms tighten around my waist, and we turn a little bit, giving me a clear view of the one person I wanted to avoid: Cole.
I feel a painful stab to the chest as I watch him dance with Nikki. His back is to me, but I’d recognize his hair anywhere. They aren’t dancing as closely as Erik and I are, but Nikki’s arms are draped loosely over his shoulders. As they turn, I take in the way his hands rest on her hips. A weird, possessive fire takes root. I want to walk over and shove him off her.
Erik picks up on the change and leans down to murmur in my ear. “Do you want to go get our pictures taken?”
“Sure.” I let his arms slide away from my waist, and we link hands, heading to the opposite side of the cafeteria. A short line has formed at the photo booth. It must be some kind of travel-theworld theme because one backdrop has Big Ben on it and another has the Eiffel tower.
We stand quietly, our fingers intertwined, waiting patiently for our turn. I look up at Erik and find myself smiling, despite it all.
Homecoming. Two years too late for Steven, but it finally arrived. It’s so much like what they show in the movies . . . and yet so different, too. So vibrant and alive. I feel as if I’m watching it through goggles, through a viewfinder, as if I’ll be able to rewind it and see it again and again.
Erik tugs my hand, and I follow him to the first available photo station, one with a giant Pyramid. We step up onto a white felt carpet. The photographer directs us so that Erik is standing behind me, his arms around my waist. My shoulders press back into his chest. I smile for the camera, a wide genuine smile, and the bright flash momentarily blinds me.
“Thank you. Your photographs will be ready on Monday at the main office.” He hands me a slip with a number on it. I hand it to Erik, and he tucks it into the pocket of his slacks.
Erik pulls back the sleeve on his suit jacket. “I think we were going to dinner at eight,” he says. “Should we find the others?”
“Sure. I’m starving,” I say. “I didn’t even catch where we were going, did you?”
“Barini’s? Barelli’s? Something like that.”
I freeze.
His eyes narrow. “What? Is it no good?”
I shake my head, try to get rid of the pressure in my chest. “It’s not the food. It’s . . . it’s on the waterfront.”
I’m not tempted to pull Erik into the water, but I still swim and sing every night, and I don’t know if I can handle sitting at a table with Cole and Patrick. And I don’t want to find out.
His lips part, and he stands there for a second, as thrown off balance as I am. And then, “I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
He leans in close, his gaze piercing mine. “Just give me ten minutes. Meet me at the door where we came in, okay?”
I nod, and then he gives my hand a squeeze before pushing his way through the crowd.
I’m standing in the entry to the cafeteria, arms crossed at my chest, when Sienna walks up. “Can you believe that?”
“Uh, no? What?” I glance at Erik, who trails behind her. He gives me a “just go along with it” sort of look.
“I made those reservations three weeks ago. How can they just give away our table like that?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. That sucks.”
Sienna turns to look at Erik. “What made you think to call and check?”
He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “I heard a group of people talking about it when we were in line for pictures. Apparently, they overbooked the dining room. There was a big rehearsal dinner or something.”
Sienna harrumphs. “I should call them, demand that they accommodate us.”
Kristi shrugs. She has on a pretty, powder blue strapless dress. When she crosses her arms, it pushes her almost-there chest up. “I don’t know . . . I told you I don’t like seafood, but I was overruled. I think this is a sign you should have listened.” She gives Sienna a pointed look. She loves that we can’t go to Barelli’s.
Nikki steps up, Cole beside her. Is his hand on her waist? I can’t tell, without leaning over and being super obvious. “Where are we going to go then?”
Patrick nudges Sienna with his shoulder. “How about that fifties diner on Alder street?”
Sienna scoffs. “It’s a breakfast diner. We’d have to eat pancakes.” She pauses and motions to her attire. “And we’re obscenely overdressed.”
“I don’t know. That sounds kind of funny,” Erik says. “Way more memorable than a fancy restaurant. Everyone goes somewhere fancy for homecoming.”
Kristi grins. “Pancakes sound awesome right about now.”
Sienna raises a brow and gives us all a skeptical look. As annoyed as she is over the circumstances, I can tell she loves that she’s in charge. “Seriously? I guess it does sound kind of fun. Everyone will stare, of course, because who eats pancakes in tuxedoes?” She purses her lips. The idea is growing on her. “What do you think?”
She’s looking at me. I grin, relief flooding through me. “I’m in.”
“Okay, the diner on Alder it is,” she says. “I can’t believe we’re having pancakes for homecoming dinner.”
She turns around and leads the way out of the dance, a queen with her head held high. Erik joins me at the back of the group. The sound of the music disappears behind us as we leave the dance.
“Thank you,” I mouth.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, squeezing my hand.
We end up at an enormous U-shaped table, the biggest booth at the diner. Sienna was right, of course; the other patrons keep shooting us looks, trying to figure out what a bunch of kids in tuxedoes and ball gowns are doing at a diner where the priciest meal costs $8.99.
Not surprisingly, Sienna’s getting a total kick out of all the attention. And I’m so relieved to be this far from the shore that I can’t stop smiling either. I have to stop myself from saying thank you to Erik about a thousand times.
I don’t know what I would have done if my date had been anyone else. How I would have avoided eating dinner right on top of the ocean. Just thinking about it nearly sends me into full-on panic. But then I force myself back to the reality of Erik and the black-andwhite-checkered table in front of us, and all I feel is relief.
Patrick pulls a Trivial Pursuit question out of the giant box on the table. “In what month does the Kentucky Derby take place?”
“May!” Sienna shouts.
Kristi gives her a look.
“What? My parents go every year. My turn!” She picks up a card, then scowls. “Well this is lame,” she says. “What decade saw names first begin to appear on the back of NFL—”
“The fifties,” Erik answers without pause. “It was the 1950s.”
I think Cole just rolled his eyes, but I can’t tell from here.
“Impressive,” she says, shoving the card into the end of the box.
Before Erik can respond, the waitress walks up and gives us a stack of menus. As the others choose their drinks, I turn to Erik. “You like sports?”
He shrugs. “What guy doesn’t?”
“Huh. I didn’t realize you were so into football.”
He leans in, lowers his voice. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” He whispers in my ear. “But you have plenty of time to learn.”
He’s right. We have all the time in the world. Yet for some reason, the idea makes me feel a little restless. “I’m going to go to the restroom. I’ll be right back.”
I slide out of the booth and walk around the big L-shaped counter, ducking into the bathroom at the back of the restaurant. I don’t actually have to use the restroom, so I just wash my hands, staring at my decked-out reflection in the mirror. I marvel at how pretty the dress is. I spin around, admiring it. When I come to a stop, though, it feels a little melancholy.