The Unconditional Pledge

22 Hannah

I stare at myself in the mirror. "Who are you kidding?" I ask my reflection. "This is Nick Sawyer you're talking about. Of course he's late."

I pace back and forth in my bathroom, trying not to overthink and failing. I had dug out the same dress I'd worn to Josh's party a few weeks ago and bought a mask at the local craft store last-minute — all because of Nick's unexpected appearance last night. I had every intention not to go to the Fall Ball, to stay at home curled up with some popcorn and Netflix, and every intention to say no to whatever Nick Sawyer was going to say to me on my porch so late in the evening. So I'm not sure why, after just a few minutes looking at him, I'd said yes.

I close my eyes and sit on the edge of my bed. My phone lies next to me. Five more minutes, I tell myself. Five more minutes, and if he's still not here, you call to tell him you're not going.

I'm not even sure why I'm this worked-up. This is Nick Sawyer, a boy I've known since we were in elementary school, a guy I've seen go through puberty, braces, all the ugly boy haircuts, everything — like everyone else in Fieldbrook who've grown up together, his memories are my memories. And although he's always made it clear he likes me, and people are constantly teasing us about it, I'm not sure why it wasn't until last night I took him seriously. No, not last night — the day those photos of Jay and I were spread around school. The look in Nick's eyes, when he'd found out, wasn't just disappointment. It was hurt.

I put my head in my hands. Maybe, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispers, that's why you agreed to go. You felt that guilty. Then, as though to prove I'm going insane, the same voice adds, Or maybe, you're a little disappointed Jay didn't ask you, and you want to see him at the dance.

"Shut up," I say aloud, just as I hear the doorbell ring.

I start down the stairs, quickly at first and then slowly. By the time I open the door, my heart feels like it's pounding in my ears.

"H—" I stop. "Uh, Nick, are you okay?"

Whatever I'd been expecting Nick to look like, it wasn't this. He's sweaty and out of breath, the outer layer of his tuxedo thrown over one arm, the previously crisp white dress shirt now crinkled everywhere. There's mud on his dress shoes, and his dark, wavy hair looks like he's stuck his head out the window of a car going eighty miles per hour. "I'm sorry," he pants, "I'm late."

"Did you — did you run here?" I ask incredulously, scanning my driveway.

He runs a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it and clears his throat. "Yeah. I was giving the guys a ride, but my car broke down ..."

I cross my arms. "So what? You ditched them and ran to my house?"

"It wasn't far," Nick says quickly. "I just didn't want to be late."

I chew my lip, studying Nick's earnest expression. I'm not sure why I feel a small twinge of annoyance — it's none of Nick's fault, and I should feel happy any guy went through that much effort for me. Instead, I hear myself saying, "Well, how are we getting there now?"

Nick ruffles the back of his hair as though stalling for time. "Well, uh, I was thinking if your parents had a car we could borrow —"

"They don't," I snap. "My parents are both out and my brothers took the other cars."

Nick frowns. "Shit."

I let out a small sigh, angry at myself now for sounding so angry at Nick, when I'm not even sure why I'm angry at all. It's not like I had wanted to go to the dance in the first place. "It's fine," I say finally. "I don't mind missing it."