The Improbability of Forever (Kismet #2) ✓

19. Tu Parles Français?

Nineteen

Tu Parles Français?

The next day was prom day.

Naturally, this was the first thing I thought of when I woke up.  As I stared at the ceiling, squinting blearily into the shadows the sun was creating on the paint, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement mixed in with all my worry and dread.  I was going to prom.  With Andrew Summers.

I knew how proud of me Old Quinn would be.  It had been a long, twisty journey, but at last I was here: in my bedroom, lying on my back with the sheets pulled up to my chin, smiling at the fact that the day was finally here.

Of course, I had endless obstacles to overcome before I could enjoy myself, the first being my visit to Cody's house.  It didn't matter that Maybelline and Julia would also be there and we were supposed to be working on our French project—I was hoping to have a chance to talk to him, even if it meant he'd get angry at me again.  

I plucked my phone off my nightstand and saw that I had just enough time to get ready before I had to head over to Cody's.  Since Vanessa had insisted that she would do my hair and makeup before prom, I only put on a hint of mascara and brushed through my hair a few times before pulling on leggings and a t-shirt.  The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and already it seemed like the perfect day.

As I brushed my teeth I put on my pop playlist, nodding along as it blared through my phone speakers.  I had barely made it through the first song when Vanessa poked her head in the bathroom, glaring.

"Can't you turn that down?  Some of us are still trying to sleep."  When she saw me fully dressed and ready to leave, she straightened and added, "Gone to talk to Cody? Good luck.  Wow, I hope this doesn't end in tears."

"Thanks," I said absentmindedly, trying not to let her comment register.

Vanessa leaned against the doorframe as I swiped on some chapstick.  "No, seriously," she said.  "Crying creates puffy eyes, and that'll be hard to cover up with your makeup.  And you don't want that kind of look for prom."

"Sure."  I shut my drawer with my hip and grabbed a hair tie on my way out.  "I'm leaving now.  I'll keep you posted."

She watched me go with a raised eyebrow, her hand characteristically planted on one jutted-out hip.

I couldn't help but let her advice get to me as I climbed into the car and started the engine.  I wasn't planning on crying, but who knew how this would end?  He could very well kick me out of his house, insisting that he didn't even need my help on the French project.  Or he could suddenly decide he hated me and make sure to tell me—that would definitely ruin my entire day.  All I wanted to do was talk to him and let us be friends again before I moved away, but I didn't know if he wanted the same.

Cody's driveway was empty other than his car and his mom's, and I figured I was the first to arrive.  Nervously, I swung my backpack over one shoulder and climbed his familiar porch steps, my tennis shoes padding lightly on the brick.  When I rang the doorbell, his Mom answered.

"Oh, hi Quinn," she said, furrowing her forehead.  "Can I help you?"

"I'm just here to see Cody," I said.

She sucked in her cheeks, hollowing them out on the sides.  "Honey, I don't think he really wants to talk about the break-up right now.  I know you probably—"

"Hey, Quinn."  Cody appeared behind his mom, cutting off her sentence.  Then he turned to her and said, "She's just here to work on a group project for school."