Matching Leather Jackets

Prom Night.

WARNING: CURSING. ALSO, IT'S REALLY LONG (9/10+ pages). HANG IN THERE. (get some tissues) /:

            "We have to hurry," Dell urges. From her tone, I know that she's over-exaggerating about the time we have before we have to go to the beauty salon. It's only three in the afternoon. Prom officially starts at seven, but most people wait until seven-thirty or eight to start showing up. I'll be leaving the salon around six, then be here at home getting dressed around six-thirty. By seven thiry, I should be ready, and by seven-forty-five, Matt should be here to pick me up.

            I'd said yes to going to prom with him those days ago. I still wish that Asher was taking me, though. He would make me so much more comfortable. He's officially my bestfriend now, and even though he can't exactly be by my side, he texts me almost all day, and talks with me on the phone at least twice a week. We won't get distant. Definitely not. Our hearts aren't set on it.

            Anyway, I think Matt's a cool guy... but something deep down is telling me not to trust him. What guy comes out of nowhere and asks you to prom?

            Okay, maybe Asher, but that was different. We actually dated. Although we should've. But I don't regret it. So of course, that was a different situation than this one.

            My mind considers Blake for a few milliseconds, but I reject any further thought of him. Yes, I admit, I love him, but I think it's best for me to stay away from him. If that's possible.

            Better to not get hurt a third time.

            I pull my hair into a loose bun and scratch behind my ear. They're going to make me look good. I want to feel glamorous walking into the school. I just want to be a girl tonight. I don't want to think, I just want to have fun.

            "Penelope Fr—"

            "I'm coming! I'm coming. Jesus freaking Christ." I adjust my sweat jacket on my shoulders and grab my money. I push it into the back pocket of my jeans and gallop doen the stairs. My leg is so much better.

            Dell's standing by the front door, her hand propped on her hip, waiting. When she sees me, she opens the front door for us to leave. "Finally. On the way, I need to stop by the post office and pick up some things for your father."

            "That's fine," I mumble. Now I see why she rushed me.

            We start to leave the house, but my father's voice stops me. I don't look back. "Do you need money?"

            "No, but thank you," I reply respectfully. For a moment, I think he might have walked away or something, but then he says, "Take this anyway." In my hand, he places two one-hundred dollar bills and one fifty dollar bill.

            Why give me money? I know it's an act of kindness, and effort for him to be civil with me, but I have my own money.

            "Take it as part of your graduation gift. I'll see you later. Be safe, Penelope." Then he walks off with no further words or explanation.

            Don't question it any further, Pen, I mentally demand of myself. It will only make me stressed out. My fingers curl around the cash, one by one. It's crisp, like it's never been flexed before. I'm going to be it's first time.

            I laugh out loud at my own joke, probably looking mentally disturbed. Dell honks the horn of her car and I start towards it immediately. Now I'm really making us late. I move into the passenger seat and buckle up.

            Dell already has the car on. As we leave the driveway, she asks, "What did your dad say to you?"

            I stare at her for a minute before answering. She must have been watching the short ordeal curiously. "He gave me money," I admit in a hushed tone. "When I said no, he gave it to me anyway."