Happenstance 3 (Happenstance #3)(14)
Author: Jamie McGuire

I turned and felt liquid explode against my skin, from my mouth to my waist. Brady was holding an empty cup. The red punch that had been inside was now dripping from my chin and dress. His eyes bulged wide as I held my hands out to my sides.

Weston charged toward Brady, but I pushed my hand out, holding it against his chest. “Weston, it was an accident!”

Brady’s expression morphed from shock to smug satisfaction. “It wasn’t shit soup, but I’m sure Alder would have been just as happy.”

He pulled another cup from behind his back and began to pour it over my head, but Weston tackled him to the floor.

“No! Weston, stop!” I said, red liquid dripping from my hairline.

Chaperones rushed from every dark corner of the room, and what had once been just Weston and Brady scuffling became a large ball of body parts jerking, grabbing, and reaching.

Coach Morris finally made it to the middle and pulled everyone apart. He held both young men by their collars. “What the hell’s gotten into you, Weston?” he said, barely acknowledging Brady.

“Look at her!” Weston said, his eyes wild.

He pointed to me, and Coach Morris blinked when he saw that I was covered in punch.

“Did you do that, Beck?” Coach Morris asked, jerking Brady by the collar.

Brady’s mouth was bleeding, and both of his eyes were already beginning to swell.

“It was an accident! She turned right into me!” he whined.

“Is that how it got in her hair?” Coach asked, his cheeks flushing with anger.

Weston was turned loose while Coach yanked Brady to the entrance. Light from the streetlamps outside briefly lit up the indoor area when the door opened before it closed again.

Coach Morris came back empty-handed and pointed at Weston. “Sorry, Gates. You, too. But I want you to wait until he’s cleared the parking lot.”

Weston’s expression turned severe. “I promised her I wouldn’t let Brady get away with anything like that. Look at her!”

“Weston,” I said, touching his arm.

“Look at her!” he screamed again.

Coach’s eyes turned sad. He pulled a stack of napkins off the closest table and handed them to me. “I’m really sorry, Erin. You still look lovely.”

“Maybe she smells better,” Janelle mumbled.

Weston opened his mouth to defend me, but Coach Morris held up his hand.

He pointed to Janelle. “You. Out.”

“What?” she shrieked.

“Get your things and go. Anyone else want their night ruined?”

The crowd dispersed, and Janelle picked up her clutch, her eyes glossing over.

She waited for Brian. “Let’s go!” Her voice broke as she stamped her foot.

Brian shook his head. “Too bad you weren’t nicer to Erin. Weston might have given you a ride.”

“Brian!” she whined.

Brian patted Weston on the shoulder. “I would have done the same. Sorry y’all have to leave.”

Weston nodded, and then Brian walked to the other side of the room.

Janelle spun around and stomped to the exit, holding her cell phone to her ear.

“I’m…” Weston began, but he couldn’t finish. He was too upset.

Coach Morris motioned to us. “Okay, Gates. He should be gone by now. I’m going to walk you out. I’m sorry, Erin.”

I shook my head, my skin feeling stickier by the second. Embarrassment hadn’t come, and I wondered if it would. I was more worried about Weston than me. He’d been looking forward to prom for so long, and now, we had to leave.

We held hands as we walked to the limo, and although the driver seemed shocked to see the mess Brady had made of my dress, he didn’t comment.

Weston tightly held my hand without saying a word until we walked through my front door.

“Don’t tell them,” I said before running up the stairs.

I could hear Julianne’s and Sam’s muffled voices mixing with Weston’s before I shut the door to my room and stripped off my dress. I nicely laid it on the bed and then kicked off my heels before rushing to the shower.

“Erin?” Julianne called from the hall.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” I said back as cheerfully as I could muster.

“Are you all right? What happened?”

“Nothing. It was just overwhelming.”

She didn’t respond.

The water ran over my head and skin, mixing with the punch, making a light red pool at my feet before swirling down the drain. I rubbed the shampoo into my hair, scrubbing quickly, and then rinsed it out. I did the same with the body wash until my skin no longer felt sticky.

I pulled down the lever and ripped the towel from the rack. I stepped out of the shower before furiously rubbing the moisture from my hair and skin, and then I dressed in a comfortable T-shirt, jeans, and tan leather ballet flats.

When I walked downstairs, Weston was standing by the front door, his hands in his pockets, still wearing his ruffled tux. A button had busted off during the kerfuffle, and more of his chest was showing than before. Specks of red in varying sizes were spattered on the white fabric of his dress shirt, and I recoiled, knowing none of the blood was his.

“You okay?” Weston said quietly.

I nodded, reaching up to straighten his shirt and tie the best I could.

“Erin? What happened?” Sam asked.

“I told Julianne upstairs that prom just got to be too overwhelming. Weston agreed to bring me home, so I could change.”

Julianne watched me speak, but my words didn’t alleviate her obvious concern. “Erin, honey, why does Weston look like he was in a fight?”

Weston started to speak, but I shot him a look.

“Erin—” Sam began, but the doorbell rang.

Weston stepped to the side, and Sam opened the door to reveal Lynn Beck standing on the porch with Brady, Peter, and Veronica. One of Brady’s eyes was swollen shut, and the other was threatening to do the same. His top lip was swollen with a dark blood blister.

“Glad to see you’ve stopped bleeding,” Weston said.

“Weston!” Veronica said, shocked. “Did you do this?”

“You’re damn right I did, and if he pours punch—no, if he comes within ten feet of Erin, he’ll get it again,” Weston snarled.

Brady looked ridiculous, standing behind his mother with various injuries. I couldn’t tell if he was embarrassed or happy that she had brought him as evidence, but he wasn’t as vocal as usual.

“Poured…what?” Julianne said, her voice rising an octave. She looked to me, horrified.