The Last Virgin Standing

Chapter 24: Choux à La Crème, Escargot, and Prince Charmings

Dedicated to amourkills for coming up with the previous chapter's title. Banner by emilymadison_16.

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Chapter 24: Choux à La Crème, Escargot, and Prince Charmings

"Hey, Kitten. Can I talk to you in private?" Ian's eyes shuffled around the table, darting from one person to the next.

       Taken off guard by his sudden lack of attitude and quiet voice, it took me more time than it should have to nod. He took me by the hand and into the hallway, which was empty save for a few underclassmen that immediately scattered at the sight of Ian.

       "What's going on, Ian?"

       He serious expression was replaced with his usual smirk. "Nothing. I just wanted to get you alone."

       My eyes immediately narrowed. "Why?" I asked suspiciously.

       "I thought it would be rude to ask you in front of your friends."

       He was being awfully vague today. I tapped my foot against the tiled floor. My leg wasn't always bouncing, but I enjoyed the sound it made. "Ask me what?"

       "I need you to come with me to my dad's work party."

       "That wasn't a question."

       He rolled his eyes. "Will you go with me?"

       "When is it?"

       "Next Saturday. It's some posh event that he throws for his company. It's to help him make connections and having the family there gives him that 'family man' image that he doesn't have. And I'm going to be super bored there without you."

       "Do I have to wear something fancy?"

       "A formal gown."

       "Would it be wrong to wear my prom dress from last year?"

       He shrugged. "It's up to you. I'll pick you up around eight."

       I nodded. "Okay, but I'm expecting good food."

       "Trust me. My dad goes all out for this."

       I wouldn't have agreed to go if I didn't know how much of a jerk Ian's dad was. I felt sorry for him, and he shouldn't have to walk around and act like his dad was Father of the Year. And if I was going to be a distraction from that, even minor, I would do it.

***     

       "Hey, Dad? Do you know where my prom dress is?" I called, shuffling through my closet. Once-neatly-hung-clothes were strewn throughout my room—on my bed, on the floor, everywhere.

       He appeared in the doorway, remnants of sleep on his face. He was still in his pajamas: plaid pants and a grey t-shirt. Tufts of hair stuck up in different places, like a two year old rubbed gel in his hair. His stubble was dark, which meant that he hadn't shaved yet. He rubbed his eyes. "The one from last year?" he yawned.

       I nodded, still frantically searching. "It's the long, blue one." I didn't bother mentioning the beading or the intricate detailing. It would just go through one ear and out the other.

       "Oh, that one? I gave it to Pamela."

       "Cousin Pamela? The one who lives across the country?"