Page 7 of One Hundred Lights
“Yup, let me find the email.” Liz scrolls on her phone.
I sneak a look over at Adrian, who hasn’t said a word. He’s watching me. Waiting for me to make eye contact. An electric current crackles between us. There’s so much unsaid, so many stories left to tell... so much that I ruined with my dumb confession about my stupid feelings.
His lips curl up in a small smile and he mouths:hey.
My eyes grow wide and old butterflies rise from the dead in my stomach. What’s happening here? I look away quickly as Liz updates us all on what the caterer said.
Thirty minutes later, we’ve established Jill will coordinate the setup and cleanup volunteers, Grace will follow up with the DJ, and I’ll manage the main chaperone list, which Vicky thankfullyhadstarted in a Google Doc.
“Finally, the lights, I guess,” I say. “I can find new ones. I have a few days, maybe I can order them online or something...” A gym full of fairy lights by Friday, two weeks before Christmas? Still, I have to make it happen. After school yesterday, I told Jackson I was in charge of the dance and his eyes lit up, a big smile on his face.
“Yeah. You’ll probably need a hundred boxes.” Liz raises her eyebrows. “Literally.”
A hundred boxes? Sounds like a holiday nightmare. Crowded stores, empty shelves, grumpy employees.
“I’ll help you.” Everyone’s head whips around to Adrian, except mine, which rotates in super slow motion. He hasn’t added a word to the conversation. I bet the other moms forgot he was even there.
I didn’t, though.
“You’ll help me?” My voice does not sound normal. My eyes dart to the moms on the couch, who are all watching us interact, eyes wide and interested.
“Yes. I can help you find lights. For the dance?”
One mom giggles. No clue which one.
I swallow a lump that appears in my throat, threatening to choke me.
Why would he volunteer for this? It’s bad enough he’s here, in my house, looking the way he does, making me feel things I’ve been trying to beat down for the past six months. But now he wants to spend extra time together this week? One on one?
I can’t do this. What would we even talk about? What if I say something stupid again? What if Reese finds out? I want to talk to her at some point. Apologize. Beg for her friendship. I’ve been desperately lonely. I need my best friend back.
Only what if she finds out about me and Adrian going on this light-hunting expedition?
But that isn’t my greatest fear, not right now.
My greatest fear is this: what if I find out that my inappropriate feelings for Adrian are still raging? That me removing myself from the situation not only screwed up their marriage, but didn’t do what I’d intended? It would mean I’m like my ex-husband’s new wife, who let herself fall for a married man.
I hate that I broke my best friend’s marriage.
“You might need to run to a bunch of stores to find enough lights. I’ll help. Okay, Britt?” His voice is steady, as if he’s trying to calm a freaked-out child or an anxious cat. I feel like a little of both.
“Great. Thank you.” I practically bark the words to sound confident and normal. Sara flinches dramatically. Jill snort-laughs.
Perfect. The PTO moms think I’m a freak show.
The meeting wraps and the four moms jet out of the Idea Garage, promising to connect within the next day, leaving me standing by the door with it cracked open. Adrian remains seated at the table. He hasn’t moved.
I turn, but feeling half like crying and half like hysterically laughing, I can’t bring myself to make eye contact with him. I want to run over and throw my arms around his neck, but I also want to stand here like a statue until he leaves me in peace.
Adrian is untouchable.
We can’t work together to find one hundred boxes of lights.
If I keep doing things wrong in life, I’ll never find what I’m looking for, whatever or whoever that is.
I’ll never be happy.
“Britt. Look at me.”
