We Could Be Dreamers

17

The moment the slow song ends, Brooke pulls away, racing over to Jason. I stand awkwardly on the dance floor as the two talk animatedly for a moment or two, before splitting off to rally the other people we came to prom with.

And before I know it I'm in the middle of a group of people ready to ditch prom and I have no clue where to go from here. 

The others seem to, though. As prom continues around us, gaudy and glitzy and—as Sam put it—aggressively heterosexual, they seem to be thinking up some kind of plan. I think a few people try to get my opinion at some point, but I'm still whirling from the combination of Brooke's lips inches away from my ear and the adrenaline surging through my veins. It doesn't take them long to realize that I'm absolutely useless. 

"I live right near here," Jason offers, and I realize that while I've been to Brooke's place like a thousand times at this point, I've never been to Jason's. 

Everyone else seems to be okay with that, so I nod along, smiling and trying to ignore the thousands of fluttering butterfly's wings in my stomach. 

It proves surprisingly easy to sneak out of prom. We leave individually, one by one, and no one really seems to notice us going. Soon enough we're walking down the sidewalk in full prom attire, laughing and talking, and I feel a little bit of that thrill that comes with being even the tiniest bit rebellious. 

Jason falls into step beside me. He bumps his shoulder lightly against mine, and I glance up at him. His hair's slicked back and I think he might be wearing just the tiniest bit of eye makeup and my heart skips a few beats as he smiles at me. 

"So prom's not really your thing?" He asked casually.

"I—um—no," I admit, staring at the sidewalk because if I look at him some more I might explode and I really don't want to have to figure out what that means right now. "I mostly went for... ah." I glance up ahead, where Brooke is talking with her friends. "For her," I admit. 

"That's sweet," Jason grins. "But prom's not really her thing either." 

"Oh," I say. "Whose thing is it, then?" 

"It's mine," Jason replies simply. 

My heart sinks. "Oh," I say again, since I'm not really sure what else there is to say. "Uh. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," he smiles, waving off the apology easily. "Besides." His eyes glint wickedly in the burnt gold glow of the street lights. "I have a feeling that this is gonna be more fun anyways."

And something about that look—

You know that thing where you smash your hands wildly across a keyboard and it produces a meaningless string of gibberish that somehow conveys some kind of emotion? That's basically my thoughts right now.

"Hey," Jason laughs, grabbing my arm and pulling me back on the sidewalk as I step off to cross the road. The wrong road, I now realize. "Where you going?"

My cheeks flush bright red. I think I might die of embarrassment. "I. Um. Uh."

Yes, I am eloquent sometimes.

"My house is just up ahead," he says, letting go of my arm after a moment and nudging his head towards one of the little brick houses lining the road. "My parents are out since they thought we'd be at the dance and my older brother doesn't care about... anything, I think. So we're good." 

I smile. "Cool!"

And why in the actual fuck would I say that?

But it's fine, because Jason laughs again and winks and drags us up to the steps of his house and  unlocks the door with a flourish. 

Excited, flustered, and a little bit unsure of myself, I follow the others into Jason's house.