Page 42 of My Return to the Walter Boys
“I appreciate your tactic, that’s all.”
“Tactic?” I echoed. “What are you talking about?”
“No need to play coy, Jackie.” He stepped closer to me and gently tugged on the curl framing my face. I fought off a shiver when he brushed it behind my ear. “You purposely left some of your clothes behind to have a reason to visit me.”
I scowled and slapped his hand away. “I don’t need a reason, Cole. I literally see you every day.”
“Yet here you are, making excuses,” he teased, “Am I really that irresistible?”
“No, you’re obnoxious.”
Fed up with the conversation, I marched over to the closet and flipped on the light. Between my and Cole’s belongings, the moderate-size walk-in was packed to capacity. I had to shuffle around a stack of moving boxes and step over an overflowing laundry basket to reach the back.
Cole trailed in behind me. “What’s in the bag?” he asked when I extracted it from the rack where it was hanging.
“One of Lucy’s dresses.”
His face went blank. “For homecoming.”
“I don’t think I’ll go to the dance, but I figured”—I swallowed the lump in my throat—“my mom made this. I should try it on at least once.” I draped the garment bag over my shoulder. “I’ll be back later to put it away.”
He reached out to stop me. “No. I can wait outside while you change.”
Before I could protest, Cole stepped into the hall and closed the door. It would take just as much time to extract myself from his insistence as it would to get dressed here, so I unzipped the garment bag, shimmied out of my clothes, and pulled the backless a-line on.
Even with the light from the closet, the bedroom was dark, so I turned on the desk lamp before moving over to the mirror. I stared at my feet for a few seconds—trying on Lucy’s clothes always made me feel like a kid playing dress-up—before finally finding enough courage to look at myself.
The air froze in my lungs. Everyone always told me how much Lucy and I looked alike, but I’d never believed them until this exact moment; the girl—no, the young woman—gazing back at me was the spitting image of my sister. All I could do was stare, tears prickling in my eyes as I momentarily pretended there was no mirror and Lucy was standing here in front of me.
A knock on the door shattered the fantasy. “Jackie? Everything okay?”
My lips parted, but no sound came out. There were so manyfeelings coursing through me—surprise, joy, wistfulness, anguish—that I turned away from the mirror before they could overwhelm me and opened the door.
Cole was smirking like he planned on saying something teasing at my expense, but when he saw me, the mirth melted away, and his chest hitched. He was quiet for a moment before he swallowed and cleared his throat.
“You should go to the dance,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. The sound made my stomach flip.
“I don’t have someone to go with.”
Eyes flashing, he stepped into my personal space and grasped my upper arm, but his grip was gentle. “That’sbullshit, and you know it.”
Goose bumps swept across my skin, emanating from his touch. “Is that… I mean, are you asking me?”
“That depends,” he said carefully. “Are you saying yes?”
We were standing so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face.
“I—yeah,” I whispered. “I think I am.”
“Then I’ll be your someone, Jackie.”
Nine
I’d never experienced high school homecoming before.
Attending an all-girls boarding school made it difficult to meet guys, and even though our formals were held in conjunction with St. Clement’s School, our male counterpart, I was too timid to go by myself. My confidence had grown since moving to Colorado, but this was still my first dance with a boy, and I fiddled with my mom’s necklace as Cole pulled the Buick into the parking lot. He hopped out, skirted around the front of the car, and opened my door before I could even unbuckle my seat belt. When he smiled down at me, eyes warm and lips curled in that charmingly reprehensible way of his, my heart launched itself into my throat. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t nervous because I was here with any old boy: it was because I was here withhim.
“Here,” he said, offering me his hand. “The pavement’s uneven, andthose heels look dangerous.”
