Three Wishes (25 page)

The boys all
guffaw
, while the girls glance over to see my reaction.

Charming. Wonderful.
I glare at him and his smirk disappears.

With a hearty meal and dessert in us, we get back into the limo for our ride to the dance venue. Two of the couples start making out. The third is getting pretty cozy, too, but I manage to keep Pete away from me by saying I don't want to mess up my makeup.

“Aw, c'mon,” he stage whispers. “You don't need any makeup, anyway. You're the hottest girl here by far. Don't be shy.”

The reality is I'm still annoyed, and I'm not comfortable with how he's been talking to me.

At least entering the dance puts me into a more festive mood, and the rocking beats are already setting my toes tapping. The ballroom where the prom is being held is enchanting. The prom committee did a great job arranging for the decorations, with the theme of Romeo and Juliet. There are roses everywhere, and Italian faux-marble pillars for décor, as well as yards and yards of floaty fabric around the room to give it an intimate feel. It's pretty romantic. When I finish taking in the scenery and glance at Pete, I see he's standing quite still and watching me with a serious expression on his face.

“What?” I smile at him. “Why are you staring?”

“You are so beautiful. I love you, you know that?” His sincerity wins me over, and I lean forward to kiss him deeply, sighing in contentment. “Can I get some more later?” he whispers, running his hands down my back and pulling me closer.

“Not here. Not in front of all of these people. I believe in
privacy
.” I pull back, feeling exposed, though no one is paying us any mind.

But Pete's hormones are raging tonight, and he keeps running his hands all over me. “Pete,” I mutter through gritted teeth. “I. Don't. Like. This. You're making me uncomfortable!”

After a while of this back-and-forth, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom and find Leia on the way, dragging her along with me.

“How's it going?” Leia asks, eyebrow cocked.

I can tell she's observed Pete's behavior and my reaction to it. She knows how private I am.

Sighing, I give my usual, “I don't want—”

“I know, I know. You don't want to talk about it. Fine. I get it. But would you feel better if I cut in with him for a while to give you a little break?”

“But Leia, you don't even like Pete. Why would you do that?”

“It has nothing to do with Pete and everything to do with you. We've already agreed we'd be friends forever, so in the grand scheme of things, this is just a small detail.”

She throws an arm around my shoulder, though she's barely able to reach that high, so I bend down as we look at ourselves in the mirror.

“I mean it, G. I won't ever let anything get between us again. Besides, it's your birthday. Since I didn't get you anything — ‘cause — oops, I didn't know we'd be friends again today —
your
wishes will be
my
command tonight.”

There's a hint of sadness reflected in her eyes, but I'm hopeful our history together will fix everything in the long run.

I pat her on the back. “Then get out there, Hirsch! Go find yourself a Pete to wrangle. You're right. I could use a little breather.”

After she leaves, I study myself in the mirror again.
Am I ready for the two big steps I'm going to take tonight?
I wonder. I think back to Pete's sweet compliment when we first arrived at the dance, and decide
yes, he is the one
, because I know deep down he cares about me.
He has an annoying way of showing it sometimes
floats through my brain, and I'm ashamed for having the thought. True, I could do without the public displays of affection. But you always have to compromise in a relationship, right? I square my shoulders and give myself a brisk nod in the mirror. I can do this. Confident, I go back out to the dance floor.

Stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone ought to be. — Elizabeth Gilbert

Leia's still grooving with a befuddled Pete, who's probably wondering why she would get anywhere near him, but he's going along with it in my absence.

I wave at them and then seek out Joel. Since his date is now dancing with mine, I figure he's hanging out alone and could use the company. I want to prove to myself everything is back to normal.

I see him over by the ubiquitous punch bowl and walk over to him. He still looks awed by my appearance. I feel myself glowing from a different kind of power.

Recovering, he says, “Care for a drink?”

I nod.

We stand there sipping and watching the dancers, commenting on the people we know and discussing who came with whom. “Your buddy Marc actually brought a guy with him,” Joel says, shrugging a shoulder in Marc's direction.

“So what?” I respond. “Everybody deserves love.”

He clears his throat. “You're right. Everybody does deserve love. Even us.”

It's kind of a funny comment, but I let it pass with a little laugh, though I wonder if he's referring to my botched attempt to set him up with Leia. Instead I ask him about college. The rift between my friends and me lasted long enough that I don't even know for sure where he has decided to go this fall.

“Tufts University, outside of Boston,” Joel says. “They've got a great international studies program, and I'm pretty sure that's what I want to major in. How about you?”

“Wellesley, also outside of Boston. Hey, we'll be able to drive home on breaks together!” I say.

“Yeah, well, I'm sure you'll be busy, and you'll have, you know, other people to drive with,” he says with a nod to Pete.

“Actually, Pete's going be in New Hampshire, the wrong direction for us to travel together. I mean, whatever,” I say, shaking my head. “We don't have to decide all of the details now. I guess I mean I'd like to stay in touch even after we graduate.”

“Me, too,” Joel says, patting me on the shoulder with the hand not holding a drink.

The fast song segment ends and the music transitions into something slower. As I would expect, Leia's not up for an intimate dance with Pete, and she's making her way over to where I'm standing with Joel.

“I'm needed on the dance floor,” I tell Joel and wave goodbye to him and Leia as I walk back to Pete.

“What were you doing with
him
?” Pete grouches at me as he takes me in his arms.

Rolling my eyes, I say, “He's my
friend
. Like Leia and Luke are my friends. It's not like I was making out with him or anything. Don't worry about it.”

“You don't have to get all sarcastic.”

“You're right. Sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Now, do you think you can behave yourself?”

“Sure, sure,” he replies, but soon his hands start roaming again. We're going to get kicked out of the dance if he keeps this up. One of the teacher-chaperones notices us and taps Pete on the shoulder, shaking a finger to tell him his behavior is a no-no. Of course he knows the rules, and for a little while he eases up on the physical contact.

But the next song is a great fast tune, heavy on the beat, and he again moves closer, with an intense look in his eye. I resist getting too close for comfort, but he starts kissing my neck while we dance together. Again I push him away, self-conscious about his aggressiveness. Leia and Joel are dancing nearby, and I see Joel frowning at me over her shoulder.

“What the — you're so busy watching
him
you can't even give
me
any attention?” Pete demands when he notices me looking at Joel.

I lean in to whisper in his ear. “It's not that. I don't like getting so physical in front of everyone, okay?”

“You know what, you're my girlfriend, and everyone except you is fine with what I'm doing.” He stops dancing, and his voice grows louder and can be heard even above the noisy music. “You're too busy looking at other guys to notice me tonight. I know that's why you sent Leia over here, so you'd get a chance to spend time alone with Joel. You can't wait to cheat on me, now you've gotten all your friends back.”

I gulp as the guilt comes rushing back, even as my lips tingle, remembering the amazing kiss I shared with Joel on Valentine's Day. “Pete, come on, you know I—I love you.” Was I trying to convince him, or myself? I rub his shoulder, trying to get him to chill out. “Let's get some air and calm down.”

Everyone in the room has heard the conversation, and all eyes are on us. Joel and Leia start to come over. I'm still hoping to avoid a major scene and try to defuse the situation, tugging at Pete's arm and urging him to come outside with me.

But Pete notices Joel approaching. “Why should I leave?” he says, even louder now, stabbing a finger at Joel. “Make
him
leave. He's trying to make the moves on you.”

Oh no, oh no. Just the one time — don't think about it again.

“Please, Pete.” I plead with my eyes. “It'll be worth it, I promise.” He glowers at me but finally complies. As we leave, we hear the class president announcing our names as prom queen and king, though it's the last thing on my mind right now. I can't believe he is acting so ridiculous.

“Okay. So, this is my eighteenth birthday and senior prom, both of which are supposed to be, like, these amazing experiences, and instead I'm out here! What a mess.” I stalk through the sliding glass doors of the hotel and into the June evening outside, leaving Pete in my wake. I go around the corner where I crouch on my heels and let the tears flow.
This whole setup — losing my virginity on prom night — is so unoriginal. And having to find a master, too? It's too much pressure. I can't do it. Not like this.

A few minutes later, I hear quiet, hesitating steps behind me, but I refuse to acknowledge Pete's arrival.

“Genie,” he says, sounding agonized. “Genie, you're so right. I—I don't know what got into me. I can't believe I made this all about me, when it's supposed to be such a special night for you — for us both. Please, please — I have a great room for us upstairs. We can go up there and relax. I have a nice time planned. Please. Give me a chance.”

He's so good at begging, and I want
something
memorable to be salvaged from this night. Plus, away from the loud noise and body heat in the ballroom, I can feel the wish power in every particle of my body. It's already eleven-fifteen and I want — no,
need
— to have a master. It's time for me to make it happen. I allow him to take my hand and lead me up to our room on the third floor.

We're in lucky number thirty-three.

My heart is thrumming, and there's a singing in my veins as I contemplate what is about to happen. He bites his lip as he unlocks the door, and almost before it closes he's kissing me, hard, backing me toward the bed before I even know what's happening.

“Pete — no — slow down — come on — stop!” I've got to tell him I'm a genie, but it's already pretty clear what his first wish will be as my master. He needs to know the sex thing is not happening. Not tonight, and not at his command.

“What, are you teasing me now?” He stops, but he's wild-eyed and his face is filled with lust. “Is it you're worried about getting knocked up? ‘Cause I planned ahead.” He holds the box of condoms like it's a winning lottery ticket.
For her pleasure
, it reads. I wince.

“Look, Pete. I—I'm not ready.”

“Of course.” His eyes soften, and he tosses the box onto the nightstand. “Let me start with a massage to get you nice and relaxed.”

He doesn't quite understand, but I am too nervous to say any more. Leading me to the bed, he pulls back the covers, so I can see the hundreds of red rose petals he arranged there. I'm sure he thinks it's the height of romance, though it's not quite my thing. Still, I have to give him big points for effort. I see he even had my overnight bag brought up from the limo while we were at the dance.

He helps me into the bed and indicates I should lie on my stomach, kissing the back of my neck as I settle down. He starts unzipping the back of my dress and rubbing my shoulders, but I shake my head to tell him to stop with the zipper. Pete lets out a long sigh and proceeds to massage my back through my dress. Soon, his hands begin to wander, and he's massaging more than my back. I tense up.

“What now?” he asks, sensing my resistance. “Seriously. What is the problem? I love you, and you love me, right? It's what people do when they love each other.” He groans. “I'm in agony here, with you in that dress, and wanting desperately to see what you look like underneath it.” He flops onto his back and holds his hands up in surrender. “I can't figure you out sometimes.”

I crawl into his arms and cuddle so my head is on his chest. His heart is beating, strong and fast, and I begin to allow my hands to do their own roving, over his chest and down his arms, keeping it PG-13. “This is nice,” I whisper, hoping I don't have to come out and say I don't want to go any further. He seems to like what I'm doing, too, allowing me to caress and kiss him at my own pace.

But after a few minutes of this, he flips me on my back and starts pawing at me, pushing up my skirt as he grapples with his own clothes. “Oh, babe, you're so beautiful.”

“Pete, please — stop.”

“O-o-oh — come on,” he says, not pausing for a moment. “I can't take it anymore. I want you so badly. It's going to be great.”

It's not that what he's doing doesn't feel
good
, but it doesn't feel
right
. The little voice in my head becomes a shout, and I know what I need to do.

I think back to how controlling he can be, how jealous, and how he has no right to tell me what I should eat.
And I am so
not
going to suffer the same fate as my mom.