Always and Forever, Lara Jean
Page 71
We cry throughout the vows, even Margot, who never cries. They go with the traditional ones, and when Reverend Choi, the pastor from Grandma’s church, says, “You may kiss the bride,” Daddy turns beet red, but he kisses Trina with a flourish. Everyone claps; Kitty whoops. Jamie Fox-Pickle barks.
* * *
The father-daughter dance was Trina’s idea. She said she’d already been there and done that and didn’t feel the need to do it again, and that it would be far more meaningful for us girls to do it instead. We practiced earlier this week, on the dance floor Daddy rented.
We planned the father-daughter dance to go Margot first, then I cut in, then Kitty cuts in. The song Daddy chose is “Isn’t She Lovely,” a song Stevie Wonder wrote for his daughter when she was first born.
Kitty and I stand off to the side, clapping to the beat. I know she’s already relishing her moment to cut in on me.
Before Daddy releases Margot, he pulls her close and whispers something in her ear, and she gets tears in her eyes. I won’t ask what he said; it is a moment just for them.
Daddy and I have practiced a few moves. The crowd-pleaser is when we dance-walk side by side and shimmy together in unison.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says. “My middle girl.” It’s my turn for my eyes to fill. I kiss him on the cheek and hand him off to Kitty. Daddy swings her around just as the harmonica starts up.
I’m walking off the dance floor when I see him. Peter, in a suit, standing to the side, beside the dogwood tree. He looks so handsome I can hardly stand it. I cross the backyard, and he watches me the whole time. My heart is pounding so hard. Is he here for me? Or did he just come because he promised my dad?
When I’m standing in front of him, I say, “You came.”
Peter looks away. “Of course I came.”
Softly I say, “I wish I could take back the things I said the other night. I don’t even remember all of them.”
Looking down, he says, “But you meant them, right? So it’s a good thing you said them then, because somebody had to and you were right.”
“Which part?” I whisper.
“About UNC. About me not transferring there.” He lifts his head, his eyes wounded. “But you should have told me my mom talked to you.”
I take a shaky breath. “You should have told me you were thinking about transferring! You should’ve told me how you were feeling, period. You shut down after graduation; you wouldn’t let me in. You kept saying everything was going to be fine.”
“Because I was fucking scared, okay!” he bursts out. He looks around to see if anyone heard, but the music is loud, and everyone is dancing; no one is looking at us, and it’s like we are alone here in this backyard.
“What were you so scared about?” I whisper.
His hands tighten into fists at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out raw, like he hasn’t used it in a while. “I was scared that you were going to go to UNC and you were gonna figure out I wasn’t worth it, and you were going to leave.”
I take a step closer to him. I put my hand on his arm; he doesn’t pull away from me. “Besides my family, you’re the most special person to me in the world. And I meant some of those things I said the other night, but not the part when I said I only wanted to lose my virginity to you to close a chapter on us. I wanted it to be you because I love you.”
Peter puts one arm around my waist, pulls me in, and, looking down at me, he says fiercely, “Neither of us wants to break up. So why should we? Because of some shit my mom said? Because your sister did it that way? You’re not the same as your sister, Lara Jean. We’re not the same as Margot and Sanderson or anybody else. We’re you and me. And yeah, it’s gonna be hard. But Lara Jean, I’ll never feel for another girl what I feel for you.” He says it with all the certainty only a teenage boy can have, and I have never loved him more than at this very moment.
* * *
“Lovin’ in My Baby’s Eyes” is playing, and Peter takes my hand and leads me out to the lawn.
We’ve never danced to this kind of song before. It’s the kind of song where you sway together and make a lot of eye contact and smile. It feels different, like we’re already older versions of Peter and Lara Jean.
Across the dance floor, Trina and Kitty and Margot are dancing in a circle, with Grandma in the middle. Haven is dancing with my dad. She catches my eye and mouths, He’s so cute. Peter, not my dad. He is. He is so, so cute.
I will never forget tonight, not for as long as I live. One day, if I’m lucky, I’ll tell some young girl all my stories, just like Stormy told me hers. And I’ll get to live them again.
When I’m old and gray, I will look back on this night, and I will remember it just as it was.
Is.
We’re still here. It’s not the future yet.
* * *
That night, after all the guests have gone, after the chairs have been stacked back up, and the leftovers put in the fridge, I go up to my room to change out of my dress. Sitting on the bed is my yearbook. I flip to the back of the book, and there it is, Peter’s message to me.
Only, it’s not a message, it’s a contract.
Lara Jean and Peter’s Amended Contract
Peter will write a letter to Lara Jean once a week. A real handwritten letter, not an e-mail.
Lara Jean will call Peter once a day. Preferably the last call of the night, before she goes to bed.
Lara Jean will put up a picture of Peter’s choosing on her wall.
Peter will keep the scrapbook out on his desk so any interested parties will see that he is taken.
Peter and Lara Jean will always tell each other the truth, even when it’s hard.
Peter will love Lara Jean with all his heart, always.
41
THE NIGHT BEFORE I LEAVE for college, there is a Perseids meteor shower in the forecast. It’s supposed to be a good one. Peter and I are going out to the lake to watch. Kitty doesn’t say so, but she wants to come too; she’s dying to. Her whole body is rigid with wanting and not being able to ask. Any other time I would say yes. When I say good-bye, her lips twist in disappointment for just a second, but she hides it well. How hard it must be to be the youngest sometimes, to be the one left behind.
In the car I feel sick with guilt for being so possessive about my time with Peter. It’s just that there’s so little time left now. . . . I’m a terrible big sister. Margot would have brought her.
* * *
The father-daughter dance was Trina’s idea. She said she’d already been there and done that and didn’t feel the need to do it again, and that it would be far more meaningful for us girls to do it instead. We practiced earlier this week, on the dance floor Daddy rented.
We planned the father-daughter dance to go Margot first, then I cut in, then Kitty cuts in. The song Daddy chose is “Isn’t She Lovely,” a song Stevie Wonder wrote for his daughter when she was first born.
Kitty and I stand off to the side, clapping to the beat. I know she’s already relishing her moment to cut in on me.
Before Daddy releases Margot, he pulls her close and whispers something in her ear, and she gets tears in her eyes. I won’t ask what he said; it is a moment just for them.
Daddy and I have practiced a few moves. The crowd-pleaser is when we dance-walk side by side and shimmy together in unison.
“I’m so proud of you,” he says. “My middle girl.” It’s my turn for my eyes to fill. I kiss him on the cheek and hand him off to Kitty. Daddy swings her around just as the harmonica starts up.
I’m walking off the dance floor when I see him. Peter, in a suit, standing to the side, beside the dogwood tree. He looks so handsome I can hardly stand it. I cross the backyard, and he watches me the whole time. My heart is pounding so hard. Is he here for me? Or did he just come because he promised my dad?
When I’m standing in front of him, I say, “You came.”
Peter looks away. “Of course I came.”
Softly I say, “I wish I could take back the things I said the other night. I don’t even remember all of them.”
Looking down, he says, “But you meant them, right? So it’s a good thing you said them then, because somebody had to and you were right.”
“Which part?” I whisper.
“About UNC. About me not transferring there.” He lifts his head, his eyes wounded. “But you should have told me my mom talked to you.”
I take a shaky breath. “You should have told me you were thinking about transferring! You should’ve told me how you were feeling, period. You shut down after graduation; you wouldn’t let me in. You kept saying everything was going to be fine.”
“Because I was fucking scared, okay!” he bursts out. He looks around to see if anyone heard, but the music is loud, and everyone is dancing; no one is looking at us, and it’s like we are alone here in this backyard.
“What were you so scared about?” I whisper.
His hands tighten into fists at his sides. When he finally speaks, his voice comes out raw, like he hasn’t used it in a while. “I was scared that you were going to go to UNC and you were gonna figure out I wasn’t worth it, and you were going to leave.”
I take a step closer to him. I put my hand on his arm; he doesn’t pull away from me. “Besides my family, you’re the most special person to me in the world. And I meant some of those things I said the other night, but not the part when I said I only wanted to lose my virginity to you to close a chapter on us. I wanted it to be you because I love you.”
Peter puts one arm around my waist, pulls me in, and, looking down at me, he says fiercely, “Neither of us wants to break up. So why should we? Because of some shit my mom said? Because your sister did it that way? You’re not the same as your sister, Lara Jean. We’re not the same as Margot and Sanderson or anybody else. We’re you and me. And yeah, it’s gonna be hard. But Lara Jean, I’ll never feel for another girl what I feel for you.” He says it with all the certainty only a teenage boy can have, and I have never loved him more than at this very moment.
* * *
“Lovin’ in My Baby’s Eyes” is playing, and Peter takes my hand and leads me out to the lawn.
We’ve never danced to this kind of song before. It’s the kind of song where you sway together and make a lot of eye contact and smile. It feels different, like we’re already older versions of Peter and Lara Jean.
Across the dance floor, Trina and Kitty and Margot are dancing in a circle, with Grandma in the middle. Haven is dancing with my dad. She catches my eye and mouths, He’s so cute. Peter, not my dad. He is. He is so, so cute.
I will never forget tonight, not for as long as I live. One day, if I’m lucky, I’ll tell some young girl all my stories, just like Stormy told me hers. And I’ll get to live them again.
When I’m old and gray, I will look back on this night, and I will remember it just as it was.
Is.
We’re still here. It’s not the future yet.
* * *
That night, after all the guests have gone, after the chairs have been stacked back up, and the leftovers put in the fridge, I go up to my room to change out of my dress. Sitting on the bed is my yearbook. I flip to the back of the book, and there it is, Peter’s message to me.
Only, it’s not a message, it’s a contract.
Lara Jean and Peter’s Amended Contract
Peter will write a letter to Lara Jean once a week. A real handwritten letter, not an e-mail.
Lara Jean will call Peter once a day. Preferably the last call of the night, before she goes to bed.
Lara Jean will put up a picture of Peter’s choosing on her wall.
Peter will keep the scrapbook out on his desk so any interested parties will see that he is taken.
Peter and Lara Jean will always tell each other the truth, even when it’s hard.
Peter will love Lara Jean with all his heart, always.
41
THE NIGHT BEFORE I LEAVE for college, there is a Perseids meteor shower in the forecast. It’s supposed to be a good one. Peter and I are going out to the lake to watch. Kitty doesn’t say so, but she wants to come too; she’s dying to. Her whole body is rigid with wanting and not being able to ask. Any other time I would say yes. When I say good-bye, her lips twist in disappointment for just a second, but she hides it well. How hard it must be to be the youngest sometimes, to be the one left behind.
In the car I feel sick with guilt for being so possessive about my time with Peter. It’s just that there’s so little time left now. . . . I’m a terrible big sister. Margot would have brought her.
