What Happens After Midnight, page 25
I grinned.
“Did I really mention that debate?” he asked. “When I invited you to formal?”
“Yeah.” I laughed. “You really did.”
He groaned. “God, why did you say yes?”
“Because I’d been waiting the whole year to hear your voice on the phone.”
Again, Tag was quiet.
“I’ll pick you up at 6:30,” I said before hanging up on him and breaking into a run.
I had so much to do.
My prom dress was beautiful, but I couldn’t find the enthusiasm to take it off its hanger and finally slip into it for real. I knew exactly why.
Daniel.
I had bought the light blue gown after he’d promposed to me, so I’d imagined taking pictures with him while wearing it and dancing together while wearing it. Why would I ever wear it with Tag? Maybe someday I wouldn’t think of Daniel when I looked at the dress, but that day was definitely not today.
And besides, I had something so much better. My lungs fluttered like frantic butterfly wings as I dug through my closet, and I let out a long sigh when I found the cocktail dress still hanging in its dry cleaner’s bag.
“Hello there,” I said after ripping away the plastic. “Please still fit.”
I had to suck in my breath when doing up the zipper; the hemline was a couple inches too short, but other than that, it looked perfect. I loved the deep shade of gold, the jacquard fabric’s textured but delicate floral pattern, and the sweetheart neckline with crisscrossing spaghetti straps. “You’re a daydream,” my mom had said when we’d found it at Nordstrom together. “Tag’s going to lose his shit when he sees you.”
And I suppose he had lost his shit three years ago—tripping over a stray rock on our driveway—but when I pulled up to Grundy House later and saw him waiting out front, I almost forgot to put my golf cart in park before getting out to greet him.
That’s my man, I thought.
“Nice dress!” he called as I wobbled in my mom’s silver strappy sandals. His arms slid around my waist. “Hops, you look…”
“Like a daydream,” I said after kissing him. “You look like a daydream, Tag.”
He laughed, and it only made him more handsome. His dark brown hair was tamed for the moment with product, his green eyes shined, and instead of the traditional black tuxedo, Tag had opted for a white dinner jacket. I swooned like a Bond girl. “Trust me, I’m no 007,” he said. “Since I believe it’s you who has supplied our sweet ride.” He took my hand and escorted me to the golf cart. “Where are we going?”
Thanks to a test drive earlier, I knew the woodland trails were wide enough to accommodate our golf cart. It was a tight fit in some spots, pine branches brushing up against us and wheels bumping over the uneven terrain, but I squeezed the steering wheel in excitement. Tag didn’t know our destination; in fact, I’d blindfolded him with a scarf before we had left his dorm. “This smells like you,” he’d said, “so I’m not actually complaining, but how long must I be shrouded in mystery?”
“Okay!” I now announced, slowing the golf cart to a stop and shifting it into park. “We’re here!” I stepped down to the ground and hurried around the hood so I could help Tag out of his seat. “Are you ready?”
He nodded eagerly, but after I untied the scarf and he blinked, his face dropped. “I knew we were in the woods,” he murmured, “but I thought you were taking the shortcut to the ropes course.” His throat bobbed. “Not bringing us to the sculpture sanctuary.” He gestured to the plank walkway, which I’d lined with paper luminaries. The sun hadn’t set yet, but it was dark enough under the trees. “I never thought you’d want to come back here.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I told him. “I don’t care about Blair, Tag. I care about you. I know you love this place; you’ve always loved it.” My cheeks warmed. “You even made a wish here sophomore year. We blew off watching the pre-prom and came here, and you tossed a penny in the fountain and wished to take me to prom. And while we’re not on a bus to Boston, I pulled a lot of strings to make it come true.” I gestured to the lighted path. “So if you don’t mind?”
“I don’t.” Tag shook his head. “Not one bit.”
I exhaled but then swiftly inhaled when he playfully threw me over his shoulder. He didn’t put me down until we’d reached the sanctuary itself. Buildings and Grounds had agreed to turn on the little landscape lights, which were apparently installed underneath the deck’s benches, as well as spotlights for all the artwork. I’d strung twinkly lights around the bubbling fountain and set a dinner table for two. Mrs. DeLuca had lent me the linens and created a flower arrangement for a centerpiece. And after a few swipes and taps on my phone, Spotify started drifting through my Bluetooth speaker. Music to add to the mood.
“This is happiness,” Tag said reverently. “Happiness, all because of you.”
My heart twinged. There was serious Tag and goofy Tag and thoughtful Tag and dorky Tag. However, there was also sweet Tag. I’d missed him. “Are you hungry?” I asked. There hadn’t been time to cook a full-course meal, so Chinese takeout it was. We shared the various cartons that had been kept warm in Josh’s YETI, but I’d ordered an extra fried rice so Tag could have his own. “Tell me when it’s over,” I said, covering my eyes while he squirted ketchup all over the poor rice. “It’s disgusting.”
“It’s a religion,” he countered.
After dinner, Tag used his pump to bolus, and we speculated if Alex would pull a muscle on the dance floor before popping a bottle of bubbly. Nonalcoholic, of course.
Tag started humming once we’d at least had two flutes each, even tapping the table in tune. “Why not, junge Dame?” he asked when I shook my head. “We have the music.” He pointed at my speaker, then circled his finger around the hexagonal deck. “And this is a pretty good makeshift gazebo. It’s got benches and everything.”
I rolled my eyes. “Herr Swell, I am not reprising that role. It was two years ago. We were sixteen.”
He shrugged.
“Fine!” I exclaimed. “Fine, you queue it up while I take off these torturous shoes…”
Two minutes later, Tag and I had been transported back to The Sound of Music. We both remembered the lyrics to “Sixteen Going on Seventeen,” but we decided to skip the instrumental version so we could simply sing along and dance. Our choreography was a travesty. Rolf chased Liesl around the deck’s benches before zapping her waist and running the other way while Liesl decided to launch herself on his back and rake her hands through his hair.
And the song was halfway through its second run by the time their kiss ended.
Tag was flushed when we broke apart, and my heart wanted to twirl out of my chest. He turned back to our table and picked up the fake champagne. “Do you want another glass?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “I do, but can we pour it somewhere else?”
We brought the bottle but not the glasses. Tag kept his hand on my knee as I drove us through the faculty neighborhood and haphazardly parked the golf cart in my driveway before we raced each other to the beach. I unbuckled my mom’s heels while Tag suspended the insulin delivery on his pump before wrapping the cannula cord around the device and stowing it in his shoe for safekeeping. “Ready?”
The pearlescent moon gleamed with glittering constellations circling the sky. “Thank you,” I said when Tag offered me the champagne. It might be nonalcoholic, but the drink still sent a special warmth through me. I could feel the fizz in my veins. Tag took a sip as we navigated our way through the sand toward tonight’s tide. The sea swirled, and we laughed while kicking up wet sand and running away before the cold water could catch us. “Shitballs!” I exclaimed when I dropped the bottle, so I also dropped down before it could tip over and spill what liquid was left. I wanted us to drink it all and then put it next to our Chicago Marathon bottle on my bookcase.
Tag’s shoulder brushed mine when he collapsed next to me, and he had to shout over the incoming roar of the Atlantic. “What a stupid place to sit!”
I grinned. “Oh, but what a pretty place to fall!”
And then I fell backward and let the seawater wash over me. The ocean was so icy that my lungs shrieked with pain, but as quickly as the water came in, it left. I glanced at Tag; our eyes met in the moonlight, and we held each other’s gaze. Another wave had yet to crash, but I suddenly felt like I was going to sink and drown and die. “What a pretty place to fall,” he echoed after a moment, and that was it—I rolled on top of him, took his gorgeous face in my dripping hands, and kissed his salty lips before the ocean overtook us again. This time, I didn’t feel the cold cut through me, just Tag hooking his arm around me so we didn’t get separated.
If we were going to wind up shipwrecked somewhere, it needed to be the same island.
We didn’t last more than five minutes before our teeth started chattering.
With my mom and Josh at the prom, there was only one faint glimmer in my house—the fairy lights in my bedroom. Tag and I were caked in sand, but we didn’t stop to hose off at the back spigot. We were too drunk on each other. “Towels,” Tag mumbled as we stumbled up the stairs in the dark, my legs locked around his waist and his strong hands splayed across my shoulder blades. “We should at least get towels.”
I kissed along his jawline. “They’re in the bathroom.”
“Really?” he asked, mouth on my collarbone. “The bathroom?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “The bathroom.”
“Huh, never would’ve guessed.”
We went straight to my room. Tag gently set me on the floor once he’d untangled his fingers from my mermaid hair. His too was disheveled, sticking up in all different directions. Our soaked clothes had become second skins since leaving the beach, now sealed to our bodies. Tag smiled and kissed me, this one sending a crackling current through my body. I knew he felt it too, because suddenly we were hurrying to undress each other. He peeled off his tux jacket while I feverishly unknotted his bow tie before going to work on his shirt’s buttons. “Take it off,” I breathed. “Please.” I turned so he could undo my dress, my chest now heaving. “You should’ve seen the dance I did earlier.”
After he fiddled with the zipper and slipped the dress over my head, I twirled back around, beaming. “Ta-da!”
Tag stared at me. Green eyes wide and head angled just so, like he was in awe. My pulse wavered, but I tried to play it cool.
“What?” I raised a suggestive eyebrow. “You’ve seen me like this before.”
He silently shook his head.
I unclasped my strapless bra. “Yes, Tag, I’m pretty sure—”
“Lily.”
My heart stopped when he said my name. All I could do was look at him too, shirtless in his dripping boxers. This is different, I realized with a deep ache. After a year of so much secret pining, this is totally different.
We moved toward each other again, but it wasn’t long before I gently pushed him away. It took almost everything in me. He’d been kissing my neck, and my hands had been tugging his hair. “Where are you—don’t—wait.” He couldn’t speak in full sentences. “Hold—Hops—on—”
“Relax, I’m getting something,” I told him, then flicked his shoulder. “Something that wasn’t on the Jester’s packing list.”
The tips of Tag’s ears reddened, remembering our almost during the prank. I laughed and pulled open my top dresser drawer to find the small box of condoms. After first sleeping with Tag (and an honest discussion about it), my mom had left them in my room with a Post-it note attached. Only with someone you love, Lily!
To me, Taggart Swell was the only someone to love.
“What?” I asked after climbing into bed with him. He’d suspended his insulin again and was looking at me in amusement as he set his pump on my nightstand. I grinned. “What is it? Do I have seaweed in my hair?”
Tag kissed both my dimples. “Yes,” he whispered, taking the sealed wrapper from me. “You do, actually.”
I giggled into his neck. “Spare me The Little Mermaid lines.”
“What about a song?” he suggested, sitting up and ripping open the condom. I drew slow stars around the freckles on his back. The seaweed could stay. “Wasn’t it your childhood dream to play Ariel onstage?”
I didn’t have an answer. Nothing witty or even partly clever came to mind, especially when he turned back and grinned at me.
That grin. God, that mischievous grin.
“I’m so happy we’re here,” he said a minute later, our limbs entwined under my covers. “I know it wasn’t easy, but…” He held my gaze. “Aut viam inveniam aut facium.”
“Find a way or make one,” I agreed, and then we kissed before finding a rhythm that made me crest like an ocean wave.
TWENTY-NINE
“We can’t fall asleep,” I whispered.
“We won’t fall asleep,” Tag whispered back, even though his eyes were closed, and I could feel his heartbeat slowing as his fingertips grazed my ribs. “We have something to do.”
“I know,” I said, heart slightly sinking. “We have to get you back.”
Because according to my retro alarm clock, it was 11:15. Josh was probably gritting his teeth on the prom bus. Only forty-five more minutes! I imagined my mom chanting in his ear.
I switched on my bedside lamp to see Tag yawn. “No, no,” he said. “I meant we have something to do before that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “This might be my last chance.” He kissed my shoulder before getting out of bed, and while admiring the view, I saw his shoulders sag. “Shit, my clothes.” He sighed and gestured at the sopping mess on the floor. “I don’t think it’s even possible to put on that tux.”
“Well,” I said brightly, “if you give me a little more intel regarding this secret mission of ours, you won’t need to try…”
We left my house looking like we were off to meet the Jester at King’s Court. I wore a dark sweatshirt and pulled up its hood to hide the hickeys that were blooming on my neck while Tag had buttoned up the Scotch-plaid flannel he’d let me borrow on prank night. It also hadn’t taken me long to find a pair of black sweats he’d left behind in my closet last year. Tag drove the golf cart while I swatted his sleeve after we soared over the faculty neighborhood’s speed bump. “What were you thinking?” I teased. “This is a residential area! Children are at play!”
He chuckled and cut the cart’s ignition once we reached Hubbard Hall, and after a grand flourish of my mom’s faculty ID, we snuck inside and made for the mail room. I watched Tag unlock his mailbox, shaking my head when he reached in and emerged with what looked like a single playing card. It had been taped to the mailbox’s roof. “I wanted to be ready at a moment’s notice,” he explained.
“Sound logic.” I nodded. “Here we are at exactly that.”
Tag grinned. “This ritual is extremely sacred,” he told me. “Every Jester taps their successor by slipping them this.” He flashed me a joker card. “I never really wondered who tapped me.”
I gave him a look. “Really?”
He shrugged. “Really.”
“It doesn’t feel appropriate for me to be here, though,” I said. “I’m not the Jester.”
“No, but you’re still in the deck,” Tag countered, then casually nodded his chin to the left. I caught his drift and shook my head when I unlocked my mailbox to find a different card. He laughed. “Hey, Bunker called you our crown jewel!”
I carefully slid the queen into my back pocket. Anyone else would say it was silly, but I believed it was also poetic. Tag and I had been broken, and these cards had brought us back together. “But I’m not a queen,” I told him. “No matter what Bunker thinks, I’m definitely not. I’m just Lily.” I took his hand. “I’m just Hopscotch.”
Tag let out a long sigh. “I feel that,” he said. “Because I don’t want to be the joker anymore—on special occasions, maybe, but I’m so ready for someone else to be the Jester. I’ve gotta go back to being Tag.”
I winked. “Who shall it be then?”
“That is the question…” he mused. “Although we both know there’s only one answer.”
And with that, he marched forward and tucked the joker card into Anthony DeLuca’s mailbox. The first fac brat Jester—I was already proud of him. No body, no crime, I thought before we vanished from the mail room like ghosts.
The stars still shimmered outside, so Tag and I decided to walk the rest of the way to his dorm. He wanted to hold my hand but couldn’t grasp it; I kept five steps between us, walking backward and smiling at him. “Come on,” he said, reaching for me. “Come here.”
I responded by melodramatically extending my arm, our fingers still not touching.
He groaned. “Hops!”
Even irked, his voice was everything.
“How about tag?” I grinned, but since I loved him, I dropped the teasing and stopped to wait…or so he thought. I had an end game. “You’re it!” I exclaimed when he held out his hand, and I quickly kissed him before darting off up the street.
I knew he would follow.
He caught me from behind within ten seconds, snaking an arm around my waist and pulling me close. Sweet and spellbinding shivers went through me. “Yes,” he murmured, lips brushing my ear. “You are.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Okay, this book took a village to write and almost a decade to untangle how to write, so please, kindly give me a few minutes…
We’ll start with the creative genius in the room: Taylor Swift. You will never read this, but I wish you would. I grew up singing along to your songs, and I still do—but now I also ardently admire and am inspired by you. If I have writer’s block, you help smash it to bits. (Legally) incorporating your work into mine has been mind-boggling fun!
Thank you to my fabulous agent, Eva Scalzo. You are not only the most caring and considerate agent but also the most caring and considerate friend. When I needed my hand held last year, you squeezed it tightly. Thank you for answering all my texts and giving me such thoughtful life advice. It was an honor to sprinkle pieces of you throughout WHAM.
