“Makes sense.” I found myself nodding.
Kristy chuckled. “You think so? ’Cause half the time I think I’m crazy.”
“Oh no, you’re definitely crazy. But really, it’s pretty logical if you think about it. I guess it makes sense for me and Dalton too.”
I had to agree, even if part of me didn’t want to believe it entirely. Somewhere deep down I refused to accept that I’d been haunted by one person for this long simply because we didn’t have closure. But what if Kristy was right and it was as easy as that? What if all I’d needed this entire time was to see him so I could close the book on our relationship once and for all?
Let’s Do This
Cammie
“You finally ready?” Kristy asked from the other room.
“I think so. Come in here and make sure my makeup and hair look okay,” I yelled over the music I had playing in the bathroom. I smoothed the wrinkles from my red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places—if I did say so myself—and slipped into my heels.
Kristy walked in, took one look at me, and whistled. “You look so hot, Cammie.”
I glanced back at the mirror with a smile, noting the soft waves in my brown hair and the smoky eye makeup around my hazel eyes. “Are you sure? It’s not too much?”
“No. Dalton’s going to shit himself when he sees you.”
“Not if he’s not here, he won’t.”
“He’s going to be here. Why are you so annoyingly stubborn!” she shouted at me before taking a swig of her third cocktail of the night. “And what about me? How do I look?”
I looked her up and down, then tried to whistle, but ended up making a blowing/spitting sound instead. The leopard print dress she wore clung to her perfectly. Kristy always knew how to dress; nothing was ever too tight or too over-the-top. “You look as gorgeous as always.” And she did.
Kristy and I were often mistaken for sisters, but it wasn’t because we truly looked alike. We just had the basics in common—we were both five-foot-seven, both had long dark hair and light brown eyes. Calling us sisters was like calling every set of blond girls you saw twins.
“Let’s not keep the masses waiting any longer. You ready to do this?” she asked, and I reached for her drink before downing it. “Hey!” she yelled at me in mock anger.
“I needed that. Thanks.” I smiled before reapplying my red lipstick and putting the tube in my clutch. Sucking in a deep breath, I moved toward the door. “Here goes nothing.”
“Here goes everything.” She chuckled from behind me.
We made our way downstairs and headed toward the check-in table, where we were greeted by classmates who stood to hug us both before handing us our nametags and pointing us in the direction of the evening’s photographer.
Glancing down at my tag, I realized that it not only said my name, but it had a printed copy of my senior picture next to it. My seventeen-year-old face fake-smiled back at me, and I hurt for the girl I was during that time.
The day my senior pictures had been taken was not a good one. I had been crying all morning, but it was my last chance at being in the yearbook at all. It was either a puffy-eyed, red-faced photo, or none at all. And since it was my senior year, I figured I’d eventually regret it if my picture was one of the stock silhouettes. Looking at my sad face now, I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right choice.
“Did they really have to include our pictures? Ugh, I have bangs. Bangs!” Kristy rolled her eyes before pinning the tag to the bottom of her dress.
“I think it’s a great idea, actually. Not that I like this picture, but what the hell good is someone’s name if you don’t have their teenage face to put with it?” I said before pinning my tag a little above my waist. The top of my dress refused to be covered by anything other than Dalton Thomas’s hands.
What? Well, that’s what it told me when we got ready.
Kristy and I waited as a couple got their picture taken at the photographer’s station before it was our turn. Digital cameras made everything super quick, and they were done in what seemed like two seconds before we took our place and stood on the X marked with masking tape on the floor.
“Let’s pretend it’s formal. I’ll be the boy and hold you like this.” Kristy wrapped her arms around my waist, and I laughed before tilting my head to the side overdramatically and smiling with way too many teeth showing.
The photographer laughed as he took our picture, and we walked away arm in arm toward one of the rear entrances, avoiding the check-in table and its long line.
“Ready?” She looked at me and I nodded in response as we walked through the open double doors into a large room that was decorated to the nines.
Flower centerpieces adorned the middle of each round table, and candles floated in tall cylinder vases that were filled with water. It felt like we were at a wedding reception, with the exception of the balloons. I craned my neck, taking in the sheer number of them that covered the entire ceiling, curled ribbons hanging from them in various lengths, tempting you to reach up and pull them down. More were scattered on the floor, the ribbons splayed out around them, just waiting to get caught in someone’s high heel. The rest were tied to the back of the chairs, like you would see at a kid’s birthday party. Every single chair had a balloon.
“It looks like a balloon factory threw up in here,” I said, raising my voice over the soft music that played in the background.