Cupcake

Mom was awake when I got home, and she helped me bring in the groceries. When she asked why I was later than usual, I mentioned running into Rhys.

“Wait, so he carried the bags to your car?” she said then sighed. “How romantic.”

My cheeks heated. “Not really, Mom. He was just being nice.”

“I like him,” she declared.

I…think I might like him, too, I thought but didn’t say.

“Hey, what’s this?” Mom lifted the frozen peas with a frown. “How’d these get in here? I thought you hated peas.”

I swiped the bag as a blush stole up my cheeks.

“I do…usually,” I said. “But these are special peas.”

Mom squinted at the bag in my hands. “They look normal to me.”

“They can be used to make tons of things,” I said quickly. “Chicken pot pie, shepherd’s pie, peas and carrots.”

“Hmm,” she said, “but again, all of those involve peas, which you said have a weird, mushy texture and taste like sadness in your mouth.”

I forced a laugh. “Did I say that? I don’t remember.”

Mom nodded. “You absolutely did.”

“Well…maybe I’ve had a change of heart.”

Mom hummed again, studying my pink cheeks and no-doubt-guilty expression. I turned away before she could ask more questions. Opening the freezer, I placed the peas inside with care, pushing them to the back corner so Mom wouldn’t wonder why I wasn’t eating them. She was right, of course—I still didn’t like peas. But these were special because they reminded me of a certain someone who I seriously needed to stop thinking about.

“That Rhys seems like a great guy,” Mom said as if she’d read my mind. “It’s pretty cool that you got paired up with him for Homecoming.”

She was quiet for a moment, then…

“Speaking of,” she tacked on, “if you wanted to look at dresses, I’ve got the whole day free.”

“Smooth, Mom,” I said. “Real smooth.”

“What? I thought it would be fun.” Her voice was all innocence. “You know how much I love to shop, and I can’t think of a better thing to search for than the perfect Homecoming gown for my baby.”

I sighed, giving in. “Okay.”

She whooped as I pulled out my phone, and she opened hers.

“Awesome!” she said as I typed. “There are so many great choices. I’ve already found a few.”

Glancing over and seeing all of the open windows on her phone, I blanched.

“A few?” I repeated weakly.

“Well, only like twelve.” Mom kept flipping through the pictures. “There are so many possibilities. I remember you saying the theme is Vintage Hollywood. Kudos to whoever came up with that one.”

“I think it was voted on by the student council,” I said.

“Well, there’s so many ways you can go with that. And my baby deserves the best, so don’t worry about price. I—”

“There, all done,” I said.

Mom blinked. “Excuse me?”

I shrugged. “I found a dress.”

“You…you already found one? That fast?”

“Yeah,” I said, “it wasn’t hard. I just typed in Homecoming dresses and gowns, skimmed the page and picked one that looked nice. It’s black, classic, affordable. And it’s my size. You know how I hate to shop, so I one-clicked. It should be here in a couple days.”

Mom shook her head. “Did you read the reviews at least? Sometimes ordering on the internet can be tricky. The pictures aren’t always accurate. Quality matters.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“But don’t you want to research all your options?”

“A dress is a dress, right?” I said.

“Yes,” she replied, “but is it the dress? Ariel, I’m really not trying to be a pain. But this is a special occasion, and you’re a special girl. I just want you to be happy.”

I smiled, patting her hand. “I’m good, Mom. Now that that’s done, do you want to watch a movie?”

“Fine.” Mom gave a gusty sigh. “But we better make it a funny, romantic one. I need cheering up, since my daughter stole all my shopping joy.”

“Rom-com it is,” I said.

She nodded and, though I knew she was a bit crestfallen that we hadn’t shopped till we dropped, I felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I could finally cross “find a Homecoming dress” off my mental list. And I hadn’t even had to try on a stitch of clothing.

That was a win in my book.

As Mom and I watched French Kiss for the millionth time, I couldn’t stop thinking about a certain boy with stormy blue eyes. Those eyes followed me into my dreams as well. That should’ve been my first clue that something was wrong.

Actually, no.

The peas were definitely a warning sign.

But sometimes when you see the cliff, it’s too late.

You’re already falling.