Page 42 of Meet Me on Love Street
He shakes his head, like he’s coming out of a trance, then smiles. “I thought it would be weird to get you a corsage because you live with a florist, so I made this at my parents’ house when I went to get my suit,” He hands me something out of a tote bag I hadn’t noticed.
It’s a corsage made with Lego flowers glued to an elastic wristband. It’s so pretty, even though it’s made of hard plastic. “Is that a Lego wrist corsage?”
He nods. “I have a lot of Lego. I kind of… collect it.”
The flowers are pink with brown stems. I think they’re cherry blossoms, like the trees we went to see together. How incredibly kind and thoughtful of Miles to make this for me.
My skin tingles as I put out my hand for him. “Look at you, embracing prom rituals. Thank you so much.” He slides the corsage over my hand. The pale pink flowers work well with the dark plum of my dress.
“Now, shall we?” I say. “Warning, Mom will probably want to take a dozen pictures of us before we call the Uber. She’s downstairs in the flower shop, so there’s really no way to avoid her.”
Miles just laughs as he smoothly lends me his arm to take, and I try to ignore the jolt of electricity as I slip my bare arm through his.
The prom looks fantastic. Our committee did an excellent job in planning, so the decor, the photo booth, the food, and music are all exactly as we envisioned. The theme is Starry Night—I know it’s a cliché, but I love the van Gogh painting, and the deep navy along with bursts of gold and yellow make the banquet hall look magical.
Miles is a great date. Honestly, I can’t even believe he’s the same surly dude I first met at the BOA meeting, because he’s nothing but pleasant smiles and attentiveness today. We’re sitting with some of my art class friends, and he’s personable and even chats with them when I have to leave him to go put out some fires in my role as prom chair. It’s weird, when he asked me to prom, I thought it would be hard because of my massive crush on the guy, but this isn’t hard at all. Maybe because we’re not alone and are surrounded by my school friends, but honestly, nothing has ever felt easier than being on a date, even a friends-only date, with Miles.
He’s just so nice to be around. Comfortable. Whether we’re arguing about the festival or talking about our families, it feels effortless. I can completely be myself—be my real, positive, idealistic, and sometimes messy self, and I know it’s not going to change how he feels about me.
When one of my favorite slow songs comes on after dinner, I don’t even have to ask Miles to dance, because he asks me. I grin.
“I didn’t know you danced,” I say as I stand and take his hand.
He nods. “I did three years of modern Bollywood dance as a kid. Don’t worry, I’m capable of keeping to the beat of non-Hindi songs too.”
I laugh at that. As we walk arm in arm, we pass Priya and Amber, who are leaving the dance floor. I smile at Priya. She looks fantastic in the dusty-rose dress and matching pink makeup. “Hi, Priya!” I say. I honestly don’t have any hard feelings about her canceling on me and taking my dress, because my night is turning out fantastic anyway.
But Priya only gives me a tight smile, then glances at Amber. And if looks could kill, I’d be dead on the dance floor right now, thanks to the glare Amber gives me.
They keep walking, so I shrug and head to the middle of the dance floor with Miles. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he lays his on my waist. The press of his hands through the soft satin of my dress shoots a current of electricity up my spine.
I take a shaky breath. He’s so close. He smells like cardamom and rose water again—I have to remember to ask him what that is… when I’m able to speak, that is. The skin on his neck looks so soft, I just want to bury my face in it as we sway lightly to the soft nineties love song. Okay, this is the sweet torture I was expecting, but thank goodness I said yes to bringing him to this dance because I would not want to trade this moment for anything in the world, no matter what comes next. I lightly rest my head on his shoulder and sink into the sensations.
“Can I assume that was the ex who ditched you?” he suddenly asks. My head jolts up to look at him. His brow is furrowed with concern. “That girl shooting daggers from her eyes at you, that’s your ex’s new girlfriend, right?”
“How’d you know?” I ask.
“They were wearing matching dresses.”
I chuckle lightly and nod. “Yeah, that’s Amber andPriya. Priya is my ex. I have no idea what that look was about. Amber and I are… were friends. I even introduced them.”
Miles smiles. “You and your matchmaking. At least now you can retire from that little hobby.”
I have no idea what he means by that. Does he mean I can retire on a high because Priya and Amber are in love? Or because I matched Miles and Sarina and it’s going so well that I won’t need to matchmake for him again? I clench my teeth. I really don’t want to think about Sarina right now. I don’t want anything to ruin this night.
“Did you really take Bollywood dance for three years?” I ask, changing the subject. This slow song isn’t really showing me whether he has any impressive dance moves.
He nods, laughing. “I did. From when I was three to six. There were only two boys in the class, so we took turns being Shah Rukh Khan. My father’s a huge Bollywood nut.”
I grin. Despite being Indian, I never really got into Indian movies and music, but I love that Miles was more connected to our culture. “You must have beenadorable.” I’m imagining tiny and serious Miles with a furrowed brow focusing on complex dance moves.
He nods. “Stick around, Merali, and I’ll show you pictures. I was nauseatingly adorable.”
I laugh, squeezing his shoulder. He still is. And I don’t know what he meant by stick around, but that’s exactly what I want to do.
When I smile and wave at a friend coming onto the dance floor, he tilts his head at me.
“You’re such an extrovert.”
