The Hope of Valentine's Day

         Blair peeked around the corner of the house, her heart pounding beneath the flimsy pink blouse she wore.  It had looked so cute and cozy in the store, with the dark pink faux fur collar, but it was as thin as a bed sheet as the wind sliced through it.

         This is stupid, she told herself, as her fingers tightened on the siding, holding herself in place.  What do you think you’re doing?

         Getting a date for the Valentine’s Day Ball, the other half of her mind retorted firmly.  You had to take matters into your own hands.  Remember?

         Blair sighed.  She couldn’t believe she was arguing with herself.  And over something like this!  A gorgeous, blue-eyed, blonde, seventeen-year-old senior…who didn’t have a date for the Ball.  She felt like Cinderella.  Only she didn’t have wicked stepsisters or an evil stepmother.  Just an absentminded father who was gone most of the time and a fluffy Pomeranian named Pooh Bear.

         Somehow, she didn’t think that explained her current insanity.

         “What was I thinking?” she muttered.  “Sneaking to Luke’s house like this.  What was I going to do, Romeo and Juliet?

         “You know…” she mused.  “That’s not a bad idea…”

         Blair tiptoed away.  Her original plan of breaking into Luke’s house and surprising him was so monumentally stupid, she couldn’t believe she’d ever thought of it.  But then teenage love did do some pretty stupid things to your head.

         Luke lived just down the street from her.  Her window was still open, just the way she’d left it.  She carefully shinnied up the latticework and crawled head-first into her room.

         Her father was waiting for her.

         “Oh!  Uh, Dad, I, um, didn’t know you were home,” she babbled, flustered, her cheeks stained bright red.  She was guilty as hell, and they both knew it.

         “I realize that,” he said, unsmiling, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Where were you?”

         Blair realized that plotting to commit a crime wasn’t really a good answer, so she crossed her fingers behind her back and lied.

         “I was just at my friend’s house,” she said.  Technically, it wasn’t a lie, she argued with her conscience.  Luke was her friend.  Kind of.

         “And the whole dive through the window?” her father asked, arching one eyebrow.

         “Conditioning for track?” she tried, her voice guilty.  “I’m sorry, Dad, I just lost my house key last week, and I didn’t want to bother you…”

         “So you’ve been leaving your window open as an invitation to burglars and taking headers into the shrubbery,” Dad stated.

         Blair shrugged, staring at the floor, her cheeks reddening again.

         “I’ll get you a new house key,” her dad sighed.  Blair looked up, almost wild with hope.  Did he really believe her story?  He came over and kissed her cheek, looking tired.  She only then remembered that he’d just gotten home from a long and tiring business trip.  She kissed his whiskery cheek back, feeling an overwhelming flood of guilt.  But not enough for her to confess all.

         “Stop leaving via the window, please,” her father requested, leaving her room and closing the door gently behind him, his parting words, “I love you.”

         “I love you, too, Dad,” Blair said, again feeling horrendously guilty.  She had just lied her ass off, and he’d bought it.  Shouldn’t she feel exhilarated?

         Well, no, she thought, sinking down onto her bed and hugging her stuffed panda Rex.  I hardly ever see Daddy in the first place, and then to lie to him just because of a boy…it seems rather…heartless.

         “Never mind that,” Blair cried, jumping up, her mood changing like lightning.  “I have a boy to ask to the dance!”

         She peeked out her door, but her dad was already in bed, the light switched off.  As long as she locked her bedroom door, she should be fine.

         She slipped into tight pink leggings, then pulled a fluffy pink dress over her head.  It had full, bouncy skirts and a pretty, embroidered bodice, and it would be awful to sneak out of the house in, but if she wanted to put the idea of Juliet in Luke’s mind, it was necessary.  Her hair she put up in a messy bun, letting curls of it spill over her ears and down her neck.  Light pink makeup and pink high heels, and then Blair was good to go.

         Going out of the window was much harder than getting in, especially in the dress.  The skirts crumpled around her and she sucked in her stomach, wriggling her way out the narrow aperture.  The windowsill scratched her wrist and she swore, staring at the shallow, oozing wound.  But it wasn’t severe enough for her to try to wiggle her way back in, and she carefully descended the latticework, her heels catching in tiny nooks, making her swear under her breath again.

         Finally, though, she alighted on the narrow strip of lawn between her house and her neighbor and smiled in triumph, albeit sweaty and flushed triumph.

         From careful questioning of Luke’s younger brother Michael, Blair knew that his bedroom was the top left one.  Sure enough, a yellow lighted square remained on the left side of the house.  Luke was still up.

         “Yes!” Blair whispered under her breath.  Victory was imminent.

         She bent and scooped up a handful of gravel from the sidewalk.  It was cold and gritty on her palm, and she was pretty sure she had gotten a little mud, too, but she persevered, tossing the gravel up to his window. 

         The light patter of stones on the glass brought Luke to his window, as Blair had hoped it would.  She saw the confusion on his face as he raised the window to peer out.

         “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore are thou, Romeo?” she called up whimsically, smiling and twirling so that her skirts floated around her in a big, puffy cloud.

         “Blair?  Is that you?” Luke asked in disbelief, his voice a hissing whisper.  “What are you doing?”

         “What does it look like?” she replied, smiling at him again.  “Will you go to the Valentine’s Day Ball with me?”

         Luke laughed, flashing perfect white teeth.

         “Of course I will, you silly girl,” he said, still laughing.  “I was going to ask you tomorrow, anyway.”

         “Oh,” Blair said, feeling stupid.  Her big, grand gesture!...pretty much for nothing.

         “I must admit, nobody’s ever asked me out like this before, though,” Luke continued, banishing the feelings of stupidity from Blair’s mind.

         “Really?” she asked, a broad grin stretching her mouth.  Her lovely, pink-painted mouth.

         Luke nodded solemnly.

         A light went on in the back of the house.

         “You, uh, might want to go,” Luke said.  “I think my dad just woke up.  You could get in trouble.”

         “Okay,” Blair said.  A huge, dopey smile still stretched her mouth into cartoon proportions.  She couldn’t stop smiling; it was like strings were attached to the corners of her lips and pulling them constantly upward.  A big bubble of happiness filled her middle, banishing all the nervous butterflies into oblivion.  “Well, then.  Uh, bye!”

         “Goodbye,” Luke said, smiling back at her.  Even from this distance, she could see his dimples.

         “Bye,” she said again, then turned and fled, her heels scuffing the grass.  She wondered what Luke’s father would say if he came outside and saw the marks, if he would think that perhaps it was like a miniature crop circle, and had to clamp her hand over her mouth to stop a wild burst of laughter.

         She was barely able to climb the latticework, she felt so happy.  Her entire body was as buoyant as a balloon.  Luke had said yes.  He said yes! she thought and grinned so hard her face hurt.

         As she climbed back into her room for the second time, she heard the click of the light switch, and then her father’s voice:

         “Care to explain yourself, Blair?”

         Oh, not again, she thought and sighed.