More Than Maybe - Erin Hahn Page 0,73

her theatrics. “Smile!”

I make my most ridiculous supermodel pose, and Meg takes several shots, sending them to me immediately after.

“I’m going to put these back,” she says, gesturing to the pile of untouched dresses.

“Thanks, Meg.”

She flings her arms around my neck and noisily kisses my cheek. “I’m so glad you’re doing this. You’re going to have a fabulous time, I can already tell.”

Meg walks out, and I spend another minute spinning in my dress. My mom watches, her eyes sparkling, radiating sunshine.

“Did you tell Phil next Saturday is a go?”

She nods. “Yep. He’s closing the club for a ‘private party,’” she says, making air quotes. “First time ever.”

“Wow,” I tease, “he must really be serious about you.”

She shrugs, sort of bashful. Adorable. “Guess so.”

“Have I told you lately that I’m super happy for you?”

My mom pulls me close, kissing my forehead. “Thanks, baby. I’m happy for me, too. For both of us, even.” She leaves me to change, and I turn to the mirror one final time, ogling my dress.

It doesn’t even need to be altered. I could probably get away with wearing my Converse, honestly.

Or, like, new Converse. Or flats. Pretty, glittery flats. That’s probably better. I can clean up for a night. It won’t kill me.

I hang the dress back up on the hanger and slide back into my jeans and hoodie. Picking up my phone, I scroll through the photos Meg sent, and I can’t keep the smile off my face. I look equal parts ridiculous and glamorous. Perfect. I choose the goofiest one and send it to Luke.

VADA

No backing out now.

LUKE

…

LUKE

…

I chew my lip, ready to jump out of my skin. What if he is trying to think of a way to back out? Or what if I read that last text wrong. What if he wasn’t saying yes? I scroll back, my heart in my throat. I mean. He said, “Duh.” And sent the link to “I’m with You.” That seems like a yes. But oh my gosh. This. This is why you don’t broach important topics via text like a freaking coward, Vada.

I glance at my screen. We’re still at the gray dots. An eternity lives in those gray dots. I’m not being dramatic. It’s fact. There is a universe of possibilities in those three little blinking dots, and I feel like throwing up.

LUKE

I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m speechless, Vada. That’s how incredible you look.

LUKE

Cullen just asked if I was having a stroke. I might be.

My eyes well, and I giggle. Again with the giggling!

VADA

Oh no. Can you feel your face? I hear that’s a warning sign.

LUKE

I don’t know. Maybe?

VADA

So, I should definitely buy this one?

LUKE

Definitely. I’ll just have to stare at your picture three full minutes every hour until I can look at you and still function properly.

VADA

I really like you, Luke Greenly. You know that?

I’m headed out with Meg and my mom, shopping bag happily in hand, when my phone chimes again.

LUKE

YouTube: Counting Crows “Anna Begins”

My hand covers my mouth, and I wordlessly pass the phone over to Meg, who squeals in a way I’m not physically or emotionally capable of. My mom raises an eyebrow.

“Vada. Think,” my best friend gushes. “Did you ever tell him about this song? In all that sexting you do? Ever?”

“It’s not sexting,” I insist, glancing at my mom, who is smirking, of all things. Meg makes a face. “No, never,” I say.

Meg shakes her head and whistles low.

“Maybe it should be sexting. Up your game a little. Dude sends you Adam Duritz, you’d be silly not to have his babies.”

I smack her arm, feeling my face flame. “Okay, that’s enough, you weirdo.”

“I’m just saying. That song has been your adorable Achilles’ heel since the second grade. You used to make me listen to it on repeat and perform it in your front yard for your neighbors as they drove by. People would stop, thinking we were selling lemonade.”

“I remember.”

“And it’s not, like, a cute song for kids to perform. We sounded like deranged potheads. Isn’t that your first tattoo? ‘Anna Begins’ lyrics?”

“Okay, okay. Settle down. I’m not getting a tattoo. What is it with you and tattoos?”

She barrels on, “And of the bajillion songs in the world he could have sent, he picked that one. It’s fate.”

“We don’t believe in fate.”

“True. But wouldn’t it be fun if we did?” With that, she flounces off after my mom, her wings flapping behind her. I glance at my phone again, Luke’s last text still lit, and I