Ignite

“Do you want me to stop?” The question threw me off. He looked down at me, blue eyes glowing with sincerity. Oh my God, he’s being serious.

“No,” I said slowly. “What you do is your own business.”

Looking thoughtful once again, he eventually nodded and looked away. I didn’t know why he was acting so weird. It was so unlike him. “I can take you out to Prom if you want,” he quietly said after some time.

My eyes widened. “Why?”

“Because no one’s asked you, and you’ve run out of time.”

I scoffed. “Oh, so it’s just a pity offer–”

“No,” he interrupted sternly. He leaned in so that his face was mere inches from mine and seriously said, “It’s not pity, Sara. I want you to have a fun night. Plus, I’d be a good date for you. I can drive you there, dance with you, give you a good time and there won’t be that underlying expectation to deflower you.” There’s that word again. Deflower? Really, where did this guy pick his words from?

I wanted to be happy by his offer, but I was disappointed. I didn’t care how he looked at it; it was still a pity date.

“Come on, stop wallowing,” he said, nudging his shoulder into mine. “Let me take you.”

“Because you feel bad.”

“No, because I want to.”

I studied his face. He looked genuine. Then he did a pout, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Jaxon, in all his annoying, thieving, man-whore ways could be so damn adorable. He smiled, showing me those dimples and straight teeth; he knew he won me over.

“Okay, Jaxon. I’ll let you take me.”

“Let me? You act like I’m dragging you…” He looked wounded.

“No, it’s not that at all.” I shook my head at myself; I shouldn’t have picked those words! I grabbed his hand and looked him square in the eye and said, “Thank you for asking me out to Prom, and I would love to go with you. Especially if it means you won’t deflower me – that’ll take a load off my shoulders.” To emphasize my point, I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, and his eyes brightened.

Lightly laughing, he arched a brow. “Gratitude. That emotion suits you, Sara. I promise you’ll have a great night.”

“Yeah, fine, just never use the word ‘deflower’ again when you’re around me or my friends.”

“I’d never bring that up around people you know.” He was so sincere saying that, and I couldn’t help but wonder what was up with this serious shift in mood. I wasn’t accustomed to him being so… genuine and caring.

We stared at each other for a long while as he softly drew circles around my palm with his forefinger. All the while I kept trying to decode the face he was giving me; it was an expression he’d only started giving me lately, filled with an admiration that ran deep in a way that fluttered my heart uneasily. Every time it snuck on by, I squashed it like a bug; prolonging the denial was the only way I could get out of the truth of what was unravelling between us.

Five

You would have thought Christ returned in the flesh to proclaim saviour to all his followers the way Lucinda reacted to the news. She was over the moon – no, over the Milky Way would be more accurate – at learning that Jaxon would be my date. It was like Christmas every day leading up to Prom.

I eventually felt better at having him as my date. If it was up to me, I would have preferred someone ask me out of true romantic interest, but I’d gotten over that disappointment.

I’d picked out a pink coral heart shaped bodice dress encrusted with jewels (fake of course) with a flowing A-line chiffon skirt. I left my dark hair down in long curls, decorated myself with stud earrings and a fake pearl necklace that Lucinda had picked up the day before. She gave me a French manicure that morning, and due to last minute timing, picked up my pink jewel encrusted high heels to match my dress. Then she came home, did my make-up, fed me nothing but an orange and water so that I wouldn’t get “bloated” and told me to wait in the bedroom until Jaxon was done dressing in her room.

When she finally let us see each other, my eyes bulged out of my head. He was wearing a black tuxedo, hair so completely slicked back it almost looked like he had short hair; he looked polished, and even his cologne smelled fresh when it wafted into my nostrils. The suit made him look extra masculine the way it framed his broad shoulders and chiselled body.

He looked me up and down with a hard to read expression. I half expected him to laugh and make fun of me like he usually did for looking so girly, but he didn’t say a word for the longest time. Lucinda directed us to stand in front of the living room area so she could take photos. Then she marched us outside to stand in front of her well-manicured garden for even more photos. All the while she kept telling us to get closer, for Jaxon to put a hand on my lower back and for me to lean into his side as if we were a couple.

This would have made us giggle like idiots any other day, but I felt strangely nervous. It didn’t help that he didn’t laugh about it either, and that he was stiff next to me when I got any closer to him. He loosened up after the photos, and we left in his car to the recreation centre where the prom was.

There were so many people there, people I’d seen every day in class, or around the cafeteria, and ones I never had the chance to associate with. The girls were dolled up, dressed in flashy looking dresses, and I had a momentary anxiety attack at having to blend in among them. I certainly didn’t feel as confident as them. I had half the urge to turn back and go straight home.

“Let’s go have some fun at your prom,” Jaxon said to me as he turned off the engine.

We got out and walked inside, hand in hand. Tables were set up everywhere for the buffet, and a dance floor was already starting to crowd with couples dancing to fast paced music. As we made our way to our table, I felt like someone had set me on fire. The amounts of stares from everyone made me want to shrink my shoulders into myself and disappear.

The girls were of course gawking at Jaxon, but the guys…. Well, that was nerve wracking.

“Is there something wrong with my dress?” I asked Jaxon as we neared our table.

He looked me up and down, scrunched his eyebrows and then broke into a smirk when he realized why I asked the question. He noticed the stares too. “They’re not looking at you because there’s something wrong with your dress, dummy,” he said, giving me a light push on the shoulder. “They’re looking at you because you look gorgeous.”