Fat Girls Return

26. Prom

Elle's P.O.V

The crisp, spring air hits my skin and makes me wish I'd fought Rosie harder on the whole wrap debacle earlier. A few moments after Peter slides out of his truck to join me on the pavement of our high school parking lot, I take back my wish and accept the romantic gesture of him sliding his coat around my shoulders. I smile gratefully at him and wonder once again how I got so lucky.

Peter's hand strokes my cheek gently as he tucks a stray curl behind my ear. His brown eyes look almost black in the dimly lit parking lot; they're staring into mine with such an intensity, my breath catches in my throat. A funny feeling rises in my stomach and I laugh awkwardly, deciding to end the intimate moment before my anxiety gets the better of me and I end up puking on my date.

Peter offers me his arm, whisking me through the parking lot as gracefully as he can considering I'm trying not to stumble in my heels. I don't know why I let Eleanor talk me into these things - they're gorgeous but they don't help my natural clumsiness. They've also proven to be quite uncomfortable - ten steps away from Peter's truck and my feet are already sore.

We step up onto the curb and Peter checks his watch, announcing we're about half an hour late to the dance. It's a good thing the teachers supervising tonight aren't incredibly strict. I'm secretly relieved we waited out the flood of high school students by kissing in Peter's truck; now we don't have to fight our way through a mob of tipsy teenagers hoping they'll get lucky as they race to the doors so they can be the first to grind their pelvises together on the dance floor.

A few stray couples are hidden in the shadows around the building, most of them stealing a chance to make out without a chaperone around to ruin the mood.

A loud bang sounds as Mr. Samson throws the metal doors open wide, startling said couples out of their intimate moments. He hits everyone with a fatherly glare that looks abnormal on his young face, yelling for them to get back inside unless they want to be escorted home for the night. A few groans and angry whispers sound through the air but everyone obeys.

Peter and I join the shuffle awkwardly, trying not to look guilty. Mr. Samson catches my eye and crooks an eyebrow in surprise.

"We weren't making out! We're just late!" I blurt, cringing the moment the last word leaves my mouth.

Mr. Samson shakes his head, probably not sure what to believe after dealing with wild teens for the past 30 minutes. "Well, come on in before I lock the doors," he sighs, gesturing towards the gym with his arm.

I bite my lip nervously, praying there will be a few plus-size junior girls here so I don't stand out too much. Peter slides his hand through mine, squeezing it gently as we enter.

"Wow." I look around the gymnasium and marvel at how different it looks. Colored paper covers the brick walls, meeting the layer of fake snow that borders the room. Fairy lights hang from the ceiling, adding to the romantic atmosphere. Apart from the smell of sweat and testosterone that lingers in the air, whoever's on the junior prom committee has done a pretty good job of turning this place into a winter wonderland.

Peter smiles at my reaction before placing his hand on the small of my back so he can lead me to join the line of couples waiting to get their pictures taken. My heart flutters at his touch, my pulse quickening as the conversation Rosie and I had a while ago comes to my mind.

I sneak glances at Peter when he's not looking, searching his face though I'm not quite sure what it is I'm looking for. Does Peter have the same goal in mind as those horny teenagers squishing their bodies together inappropriately on the dance floor? And if he does, am I ready for that?