Lark (6 page)

             
I don't want to admit that I saw him staring at Brian. That would require admitting that I was staring at Grey.

             
“Um...Well, I was just wondering. Seemed weird, right?” I ask.

             
He nods once in agreement.

             
“There is something about him...” He trails off like he can't quite put a finger on the reason Brian creeps him out. At least, I know that’s how I feel.

             
“Yeah, the dude has a serious staring problem,” I offer.

             
“What do you mean?” Grey looks concerned all of the sudden. He puts his hands on my shoulders, forcing me to look up into his eyes.

             
“It's probably nothing,” I say, trying to wiggle free before I lose my willpower and do something stupid. Like kiss his luscious lips. “I just notice him staring at me a lot.”

             
His eyes harden.

             
“He stares at you a lot?”

             
“Yeah. At least I think he’s staring at me.” I am suddenly embarrassed. I don't know why he is asking me this. I know he saw Brian watching me earlier.

             
“When did you first notice this?”

             
“I don't know. Recently,” I stammer, made uncomfortable by the seriousness in Grey's tone. “I think the first time I gave him a ride to work? A week or so ago?”

             
“Have you noticed anything else strange about him?” I’m not really sure what Grey is getting at but his intensity is making me nervous.

             
“Other than the fact that he smells bad? No.” I try to lighten the mood, but I’m not sure it's working.

             
“Let me know immediately if you do notice anything, okay?”

             
“Um, sure?”

             
“No. Promise,” he insists. “Promise me you will let me know.”

             
“Okay, Grey. I promise.”

             
“Thank you.” He sighs in relief. “And don't pick him up anymore. I don't want you to be alone with him.”

             
“That's a little over the top, don't you think? He hasn't done anything except stare at me. And yeah, it’s creepy, but it's not like he is trying to hurt me,” I snapped. “Besides, I can take care of myself. I don’t need you protecting me.”

              I don’t really like him telling me what do.

             
“Just please don't pick him up anymore. I don't trust him.”

             
“Fine. Whatever.” Who does he think he is? It's not like he’s my boyfriend. But maybe that’s why he is acting like this? Did he change his mind about us? He did hold my hand tonight. But still, I don't see the need for his overreaction.

             
“Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow.” He gently kisses my cheek and my irritation vanishes. I’m half tempted to turn my head and finally introduce his lips to my own, but I control myself. “Good night,” I whisper as I get into my car.

Chapter 4

             
Since I didn't plan on actually going to the dance until the last minute, I never scheduled a hair appointment. Hannah offered to help, but her appointment ran late so I decided to wing it myself. Unfortunately, I lack the girly-ness gene that most females have, making them naturally good at applying make-up and styling hair. Simple ponytails for games I can handle, but anything more complex than that and I am at a loss. As for applying make-up? I don’t ever wear it. Hannah says my skin is perfect so I don’t need to wear anything other than a light powder, but she is always trying to get me to play up my eyes. She actually buys me make-up for my birthday every year, so I’m well-stocked though I have no idea what to do with any of it. I know what it’s all for, I just lack the artistic ability to apply it to my face without ending up looking like a clown.

Can’t go wrong with just a little mascara though, right? I might even put on some tinted
lipgloss instead of my usual chapstick.
Hannah will be so proud
, I laugh to myself as I pull out the tube of black goopy stuff.

In typical Mia form, I stab myself in the eye with the mascara wand.
Twice. I couldn't even figure out how to work the curling iron right. All my attempts at perfect bouncy curls fall pathetically limp. I am tempted to give up and just leave it long and straight down my back. What I wouldn't do for the curls that Maddie has been blessed with. I eventually manage to get my hair to somewhat cooperate and twist it up in a high ballerina bun. My one errant lock of hair that always kinks out funny falls loose, framing my face. It looks like I did it on purpose, so I don't fret over it.

             
Grey picks me up about a half an hour later. He looks dashing of course. I can only hope I look half as good in my dress as he looks in his nicely fitted khakis, dress shirt and tie. Which is just wrong. Even the plainest girl in the world should still feel prettier than her date. I suppose when your date is Greyson St. Clair, that is a nearly impossible feat to accomplish. 

             
“Wow. You are stunning.” His eyes sparkle as I make my way down the stairs.

             
I guess Hannah was right all along about this whole make-up thing. Who would have known a little mascara and pink-tinted lips would get such a reaction out of Grey?             

“Thanks.” I blush and reply, “You don't look too bad yourself.” Swoon-worthy is what I actually am thinking, but I restrain myself. Just friends, remember?
Just friends. You can't be swooning over your just friend. The way he is staring at me is making me so self-conscious. But his eyes are so captivating that I can't seem to stop staring back at him.

             
“Oh, honey!” My mom squeals as she turns the corner, toting her camera, as always. “You look gorgeous! I really love that color on you.”

             
She snaps a quick candid shot before Paul and Maddie enter the living room.

             
“You guys make a sharp looking couple,” Paul says rather embarrassingly. He’s such an old guy.

             
“Mi-mi! Pitty!” Maddie exclaims happily as she reaches for me.

             
“Oh no you don't, messy girl! We don't want to ruin Mia's pretty dress before the dance. Bath time for Maddie!” Paul says as he heads up the stairs with my sister. “Have a great time at the dance kids. Grey, you better take good care of my daughter.”

             
“Yes, sir.” Grey’s voice is tight, almost like something has made him uncomfortable all of a sudden. I really hope my parents aren’t freaking him out.

             
“I'll have her home by midnight, Mrs. Carrington.” His voice is much warmer as he speaks to my mother.

             
“Wait! You can't go yet,” my mom stops us. “I'm not done taking pictures yet! This is a special occasion! I have to document every moment.”

             
“Mom, it’s just a dance,” I sigh.

I’m used to her sentimental ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if she started singing Barbra Streisand’s
The Way We Were
like she does when she is feeling particularly sappy about me growing up too fast. The thought makes me groan inwardly, but Grey cracks a smile. I am glad he finds her amusing, because at times like this, I just think she is annoying.

             
“But it’s not just any dance, Mia. This is your Homecoming. The first dance of your very last year of high school. It’s a huge deal,” she says as she wipes a fresh tear out of the corner of her eyes.

             
“Oh Mom, please don’t start crying!” Oh my goodness this is so humiliating.

             
“Sorry, I just can’t believe you are a Senior. It seems like just yesterday--”

             
“Moooommmmm!” I really hope she isn’t going to start breaking out the photo albums of my childhood.

             
“Honey, let the kids go already,” Paul calls down from the stairs in good humor. “You’re going to make them late for the dance!”

             
“Oh fine, just a few more pictures,” she promises. 

When the customary pre-dance photography session is finally complete to her satisfaction, my mother kisses my cheek, tells me I look beautiful again, and then finally Grey and I are able to make our escape. He didn’t rent a limo or anything for the evening, which is completely fine by me. This is the first time I have been in his truck. It’s very clean and smells like him. He opens my door for me and helps me climb up into the cab. We don’t talk much as he pulls onto the highway that will lead us to the dance, so I stare out the window at the stars.     

              “Paul seems like a nice man,” Grey says as he turns the radio down.

             
“Yeah, he’s great. I was so happy when he and mom got married. I didn’t think she would ever find love and happiness,” I admit.

             
“What do you mean?”

             
“Well, my real dad sort of just left. I don’t think mom ever even got a chance to say good-bye, let alone tell him she was expecting me. Or maybe she did tell him and that’s why he disappeared? I don’t really know the whole story. All I know is she was sad for a very long time. Then she met Paul,” I smile. “He makes her happy and he has always been a great father to me. I feel pretty lucky to have him in my life.”

I really do know how lucky I am. But sometimes, I wish I knew what my real dad was like. What did he look like? What music did he listen to? What’s his favorite movie? But I would never say those thoughts out loud. I would never want to risk hurting Paul by making him feel like he wasn’t enough, because I couldn’t imagine a better dad than Paul had been to me.

              “I am glad that he has been a good father to you,” he murmurs as we pull into the parking lot. He walks around to my side of his truck and opens the door for me, helping me down. 

             
Though our Prom will be held inside Manhattan Town Center mall, our Homecoming dance takes place in our school gym. Various shades of blue and white crepe paper and balloons litter the entire space, and silver stars dangle from the ceiling in random places in a cheesy attempt to dress it up. Unfortunately, all the bling in the world can't mask the funky smell that reminds you that it is, still, just a gym.

             
Tables are scattered strategically on the north side of the gymnasium where people can take a break from all the dancing and enjoy some refreshments. That is where I spot Hannah and Seth. We immediately make our way toward where they are sitting, but are stopped several times by girls wanting to compliment my vintage dress, though I secretly think that it is just an excuse for them to ogle Grey. Not that I can really blame them. I am doing a fair share of ogling myself.

As we make our way through the crowd, he doesn’t say a word.  He seems to be too busy inspecting the room as though searching for something.  He hardly acknowledges anyone, responding only with the occasional nod, all the while scanning the room as if he is in charge of surveillance or something. At first, I find this rather odd, but then I remember he doesn't seem very comfortable in social settings. I was thoroughly surprised when he said he was going to attend the game last night. I bet this huge crowd of people packed in such an enclosed space makes him uncomfortable. He is probably just looking for the nearest exit.

              I try not to feel disappointed or offended by that.

             
We finally make it over to Hannah and Seth just as a slow song starts playing. Hannah, still wearing her new crown, squeaks a quick apology and rushes off to the dance floor with her Prince Charming. Grey and I take a seat at the table. He does not look happy to be here at all. He isn't much of a talker by nature, but he is never this silent. He just keeps looking around the room, scowling at everyone and everything. I am not sure what to make of his strange behavior.

             
After a few songs, Hannah and Seth return to our table out of breath and kind of sweaty.

             
“God, I'm, like, dying of thirst!” Hannah exclaims dramatically.

             
“I'll go grab us some drinks,” Seth is quick to offer. “Want anything, Mia?”

             
“Yeah. Sure,” I answer.

             
“I'll go get Mia's drink.” Grey stands up and does this weird sort of half-bow thing before leaving with Seth to get our refreshments.

             
Hannah stifles a giggle.

             
I stare curiously at Grey's retreating back, feeling all sorts of warm and fuzzy inside, but now even more confused about his previous grouchy behavior.