48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of Buttmunches

6

A baseball player,

a makeover, and a dance—

he’s no Zack Siler

T he rest of my freshman year of high school and my sophomore year were a blur of treatments and time with my dad.

As a family, we did everything possible to check off as many of his bucket list items. We went to British Columbia. We ate hand-cut french fries and licked orange and vanilla ice cream cones on the Boardwalk in Ocean City. We played UNO, laughing until our sides hurt.

By my junior year, the doctors had figured out what treatments worked. The cancer shrank. His primary doctor declared my father to be in remission.

But guilt over my first thought—a selfish one—plagued me. I wish I had noticed something was wrong much sooner. I spent the rest of my dad’s life trying to make up for the first few moments after he told me about his cancer.

Even so , it was an immense relief to us all—the first time we heard the remission declaration. It meant that we could breathe again. I added an orange ribbon charm to my bracelet, thinking the worst was now a distant memory.

But since that day, I learned not to become complacent with the word—remission. Cancer does what it wants without regard to a doctor’s diagnosis. It shows up in the most inopportune places without regard to people’s feelings. Cancer doesn’t listen. It doesn’t care that it’s supposed to be in remission.

Back in my junior year, I put the poison apple of cancer in the past.

I really wanted to get on with finding a fairy tale. And that’s when Zack, the star pitcher at McCracken High, leaned over and tapped me on the shoulder. I was not prepared to turn and stare right into his icy blue eyes.

“Do you understand what the teacher wants us to do with this?” he asked as he waved the worksheet our teacher had handed out back and forth.

I nodded at Zack, who sat across from me in chemistry class. His outfielder teammates, Taylor and Mike, sat close beside him. Most days, I ignored them. They were part of the “popular” crowd. Let’s just say the chorus crowd I hung around was less sporty and more artsy.

“Great,” he said with a big smile that made his eyes sparkle, bringing out his dimples. “Do you think you could help me with chemistry after school today? Let’s make it a study date—go to Honeybees and get some ice cream together afterward.”

What the fluffernutter sandwiches? Did he ask me out on a study date?

“Sure,” I said, attempting to sound a lot more casual than I felt.

“Awesome. Meet me out by the music entrance. I’ll find you, Adelaide, after the last bell.” Zack grinned at me again.

I nodded, not trusting my mouth to form words. At school, despite my kidney-cancer-awareness orange hair, I wanted to hide in the corner, do the work, and head home. My style had changed from cute-new-girl to girl-who-uses-clothes-as-a-turtle-shell. I thought I was invisible to boys like Zack.

I’m not invisible.

Zack Brady knows my name.

McCracken High’s hottest baseball player wants to pick my brain and have ice cream... with me.

At that moment, the bell rang. Zack and his posse got up and walked out. I swear I heard laughter, but when I turned around, no one was there.

Mitzi is going to die when she hears this!

I had to wait, though. My best friend and her family were on their annual no-electronics trip to Yellowstone.

The rest of that school day passed with my brain on autopilot. While my subconscious absorbed the information, I mulled over whether to meet Zack. A part of me wondered that this was some cruel She’s-All-That type of joke.

I should have listened to that part.

But I didn’t.

I walked to the side entrance of the school—the one that usually only the band and chorus members used. When the last bell rang, Zack appeared. We walked to the ice cream shop. His head was down the whole time, and his hoodie was up. I told myself he was shy.

He chose the booth in a hidden corner and sat with his back to the sliver of the shop that was visible. It was quiet. I told myself that he chose that booth because we had chemistry to work on. We needed the silence and anonymity. After all, he was popular. Whenever I had seen him in Honeybees in the past, there were always lots of people around him.

I led him through the worksheet, easily explaining the chemistry on the paper between us. When we finished, I thought we’d get up and go get some ice cream together.

But that’s not what happened. He threw me a curve ball out of left field. “I like you, Adelaide. You’re smart. I was thinking you should come to homecoming with me tomorrow.” He threw the invite out as if it wasn’t the most earth-shattering thing I had heard all day.

“Don’t you already have a date?” The question fell out of my lips. The fact that he assumed I wouldn’t already be going with someone else was not lost on me.

“No, I don’t, and besides, if I did, I’d rather take you,” Zack answered with a sparkle in his crystal blue eyes as he leaned toward me.

This guy was smooth.

He stared at me, and I felt a blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. A glimmer of a smile appeared on his parted lips as he continued to stare at me. I cleared my throat. “I don’t have a dress. I wasn’t planning on going to the dance.”

He reached over and stroked my arm. “That’s fine. I checked with Cynthia, and she said she’d help you get ready. Her mom has plenty of dresses... there she is. Cynthia, over here!” Zack leaned back and yelled as he waved Cynthia over with the same hand that had touched me.

My fingers drummed the booth under me as Cynthia walked over. She was the epitome of a cheerleader and southern belle—someone who I thought was far too stuck-up to speak to the likes of poor old chorus me.

Why, oh why, had Mitzi’s parents chosen this week to go on their annual family hiking trip? And why didn’t they allow electronics? At the bare minimum, I needed her texting wisdom!

“What do you want, Zack?” Cynthia asked with her deep southern drawl as she folded her arms and tapped her foot.

A playful grin danced on Zack’s lips as he explained. “I need your help, Cynthia. I want to take Adelaide to the homecoming dance tomorrow, and she doesn’t have a dress.”

“Oh, bless your heart. I can help you with that,” she said, patting my arm. I tried to decide if that was a nice “bless-your-heart” or the other kind. Her posture said it could go either way.

“Great, then it’s all settled. Cynthia will help you get ready tomorrow. Then Taylor and I will pick you girls up at Cynthia’s house for the dance.” He got up and nodded at Cynthia. Then he turned to me. He raised his eyebrows, gave me a lop-sided grin, and winked before he walked out of the ice cream shop.

What just happened?

Meanwhile, Cynthia was writing down her number and address. She handed it to me, telling me to be there at three the next day with my mom. She walked away before I could get a word out.

What the fluffernutter sandwiches? Came to my mind for a second time that day. This is not how I thought this day would go. I really need Mitzi here. And what happened to getting ice cream?

I checked my phone. Will was driving Mom’s car today. I planned on meeting him in the parking lot an hour after school. I saw I didn’t have long before he came out. I got up and walked back over to the school. As I made my way over to Mom’s car, I reviewed the events of the day.

Zack asked me on a study date.

That study session turned into an invitation to the homecoming dance.

But he was already planning on asking me—right? It seemed like he had already made the plan about Cynthia in his mind.

But Zack was Zack Brady, star of the All-Star baseball team with an easy-on-the-eyes style.

I was Adelaide Ann Monroe, a second string chorus member with flame-colored-hair and turtle-shell style. It’s not exactly the match made in fairytale folklore.

Was I in the middle of some real-life version of She’s All That? Or was Zack serious about liking me?

Was this some crazy baseball-boys bet? Was Cynthia in on it?

And please, please let my parents say no, so I don’t have to figure this out on my own.

I still wish that the last one had happened, but it didn’t.

When I got home, my mom was ecstatic. Her baby girl was going to homecoming and making some new friends after all. I wish she had seen what was coming, but like me, she saw the best in people. Plus, she knew Cynthia and her mom, Margaret, from volunteering at the local thrift store. My mom trusted them.

The next day, we drove to Cynthia’s Victorian-style home, complete with wrap-around porches and gingerbread molding. But the star of the show was the sweeping views of the water. I felt like an ugly duckling, but Cynthia greeted me with a warm smile and a hug.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

Mrs. Pritchard-Kennedy was a southern ray of sunshine, embracing my mom in a charming hug. She had been a fashion designer in Hollywood when she met her husband. She had continued her work as a consultant when her schedule freed her up to do so. As a result, she had tons of dresses and makeup samples to choose from.

They had taken two rooms on the third floor and turned them into a closet plus a dressing room. The rooms were fully stocked, including two makeup chairs. A hairdresser and makeup artist waited for us in the room and helped us get ready. This family knew how to get ready for a dance in the Southern style.

As I took all this in, my teeth clenched. My stomach started doing somersaults. I almost grabbed my mom, turned tail, and ran when Cynthia put a hand around my shoulder.

She squeezed me and whispered, “I know this is a lot to take in, but we’re going to have fun today. We’re going to transform into princesses, and those boys won’t be able to resist us!”

Is she for real?

Is any of this real?

I sighed, shrugged, and gave myself over to her mother for a dance-ready makeover.

Turns out it was real.

Cynthia wasn’t the stuck-up, southern princess I thought she was. She was hilarious, sassy, and sweet. She and I became fast friends as we got ready for the homecoming dance. I couldn’t wait to introduce her to Mitzi. I knew my best friend would love her.

Mrs. Pritchard-Kennedy selected a form-fitting black and white sequin gown for me. The stripes on the dress were on a bias cut, and they gathered on the left side of my waist. I didn’t look like a zebra in my mind. Rather, the dress highlighted the good parts and smoothed out the ones I didn’t want people to see. My mom approved. Cynthia’s mom found a pair of peek-a-boo flats and a purse in a shade of sunset orange. All my accessories matched my hair, which was swept up in a loose ballerina bun. In the end, I felt like a princess going to a ball.

When Zack came to pick me up, he had a sunset orange rose with pink highlights on his lapel. He handed me a corsage with the same roses. We took pictures by the water, and my mom had tears in her eyes as we waved goodbye.

Zack wasn’t the most attentive date, but I brushed it off. I knew from experience that the dance was where the real magic happened.

This year, the McCracken High cafeteria was bathed in soft light and decorated to look like a sunset. Everything was working out for me. I was on the arm of the coolest guy in the room. My dress was a killer. My shoes were danceable. And my hair matched the theme.

The princess feeling stayed with me until I saw who Mike’s date was—Libby. Libby Jane Barnes.

She wore a silver dress that shimmered as she walked up to me with outstretched arms. I caught a whiff of melons and the ocean as she pulled me into an awkward hug. “Tonight, you look like a real princess. As long as you took your allergy medicine, everything will be fine.” She let go of me and winked. “Just kidding. I’m so sorry for how I treated you before.” Her head bowed as she looked at me with wide, innocent eyes.

“Thanks, Libby,” I said through pursed lips, stammering as I pulled back. My eyes narrowed, taking her in. We hadn’t seen each other since the incident with Tyler almost two years ago. So much had changed for me, and apparently, much had changed for her.

Libby smiled and offered me a pale hand. “Let’s get these guys to dance!”

I cocked my head to one side, considering the offer. Zack placed a hand on the small of my back and said. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

We boogied, congaed, slid, and shimmied with a group of Zack’s baseball and cheerleader friends. It wasn’t until the DJ put on a slow song that the night imploded.

Cynthia and her date disappeared, but Libby, Mike, and the rest of the baseball crew were still close by. Zack grabbed my waist and pulled me in close. He turned me round and round, all the while staring at me with his icy blue eyes.

I admit it. The moment mesmerized me.

So, when he leaned down to kiss me, I ignored the warning bells. The ones that went off in the back of my mind. The ones that said something like this should not be happening right now.

Instead, I closed my eyes and puckered my lips. His earthy spice wrapped around me.

Right at the moment when I anticipated our lips would meet, I heard his friend Mike yell, “You got it! You won, Zack!”

The spittle from a burst of laughter hit my lips instead of the pressure of his mouth. I tasted apples and wood as Zack released me, almost dropping me onto the floor. I recovered my balance and opened my eyes to see the group around us laughing.

The baseball boys slapped Zack on the back. “I knew I could win the bet. I knew I could get any girl to want to kiss me in less than a week,” Zack gloated to his friends.

“At least Princess Snot-Rocket didn’t sneeze on you!” Libby tipped her head back. Her blonde hair shimmered in the lights as a fresh wave of laughter hit the group.

Zack turned to look at me. My stunned feet stuck to the same patch of ground. My eyes blinked rapidly, and my mouth fell open.

I thought all of this was real.

That he was for real.

“Oh, man!” For a moment, I thought he was going to take it all back and apologize for what had happened. Instead, he burst into a fresh round of laughter. Words squeezed out between cackles, “That’s hilarious... you thought... I would... kiss a carrot-haired... zebra-clad girl... like you!” Zack and his baseball boys howled with laughter.

My feet finally woke up and carried me running out of the room. In the bathroom, I collapsed in a puddle of misery. I sat sobbing on the floor, realizing that to Zack Brady, I was Laney, the ugly duckling.

Only this wasn’t a movie. And he was no Zack Siler.

Zack Brady was the Prince of the Buttmunches.