Our Story Part One: the Prom

Scott was one of my brothers best friends growing up. So we’ve known each other since we were kids. He says he barely remembers me back then though because I was the “little sister” and so it was an unspoken rule amongst friends to ignore and barely tolerate the younger, insignificant siblings. It’s a good thing he wasn’t paying attention. I was a dork. A big big dork.

I don't know what's dorkier, the fact that I thought I could actually play volleyball, which I sucked at, or that hideous pink ball. Although I like to think the fact that my foot is propped on a sprinkler some how makes me look cooler.

But you know who was even dorkier? Him and my brother. And Ryan. Might as well throw him under the bus too since we’re scanning old pictures.

Junior High graduation. Which would have put me in the 5th grade.

This went on for all of our childhood and adolescent years.

Then they all went away to college. Scott would stop by our house every once in awhile when he was in town to see us and hear about how David was doing. He claims it was because when his sister went away to college his mom missed seeing and hearing about all her friends. So he made a point to visit some of his friend’s families to check in. But I'm pretty sure we were the only ones he did that too. And then when he came home for Christmas he brought me nail polish. Blue nail polish. My little 16 year old heart swooned. And thus began our friendship.

I still have it. I'm such a sentimental shmuck. And no I can't even open it.

That spring my junior prom was approaching and I didn’t have a date and there weren’t any prospects. Maybe it was the random, sporadic emails that always made me laugh. Maybe, just maybe, my little 17 year old mind was playing tricks on me, but I think that guy Scott that use to go toilet papering with my brother might be interested in me. Because boys only buy girls presents when they like them. And he had bought me blue nail polish. I called his mom one day. Our conversation went something like this.

“Hi Brenda this is Lorie.”

“Hi Honey how are you?”

“Good, hey I have something to ask you.”

“Sure, what?”

“Um, so…do you know, I mean… what do you think Scott would say if I asked him to my prom?”
“Wow, Um, I don’t know. I think he might go. I don’t really know.”

“Do you think you could ask him without really asking him? Just see if he would go without telling him who would be asking and stuff?”

“Yeah I could do that, I’ll call you later.”

“Okay thanks Brenda.”

Seriously, how junior high was I?

She called to tell me that she thought he’d go.

Later I would find out that her conversation with Scott went something like this:

“Hi honey.”

“Hi mama”

“Scooterpie, if someone here in town asked you to go to the prom would you go?”

He said he honestly couldn’t figure out who she was talking about and really was caught blindsided by the whole thing. Until I called him, which I had never done. He said as soon as he heard me on the phone he started smiling, knowing exactly why I was calling. I asked him. He said yes. My heart began beating again. I hung up the phone and yelled down stairs to my parents who were waiting to hear the results;

“He said yes! And next we’re going to have red-headed children!”

Scott was quite the sweet heart. He came into town a few weeks prior to the prom and him and his mom and I went to the mall to pick out a shirt and tie to match my dress.

Now that I really know Scott I realize what a stretch that night was for him. So outside of his comfort zone. Very Mr. Darcy-esq. He does not converse easily with people he has never met before. But that night he sucked it up and made nice. He met all my friends and their various dates. He took pictures at someone’s house he’d never met. He drove his mom’s Yukon and filled it to the brim with all my friends. Little did I know at the time what sacrifices of himself he was doing that night.

As we pulled up to the prom I casually joked.

“Oh and by the way, when we get married one day and have red-headed kids, I have to have a red headed Hayley.”

Without skipping a beat he replied.
“That’s fine, as long as I get an Emma.”

I was nervous about dancing with him. I mean you know what kind of dancing goes on at proms. And this was Scott. David’s friend. Someone I knew from church. Did he want to dance that way? Would he think badly of me if I did? Some how we navigated the night without said dancing. To which he still gives me a hard time. Towards the end of the evening, as the dancing was winding down and the music grew slower, he wrapped his arms around me for one final slow dance. As we swayed to the music I felt him toy the ends of my hair with his fingers. My head tingled and my heart started beating faster. This was Scott. Scott. He couldn’t really like me could he? I mean, it’s Scott. I was confused and befuddled to say the least. The night was over and time to go. My feet hurt really badly (um, idiot you wore flip flops!) and somewhere between my complaining and his car he swooped me up in his arms and gallantly carried me. I giggled because half way through he had to stop and switch arms. In his defense it was a really long trek to the car and neither one of us have ever been very fit.

We had such a great time that night but the days following were confusing. He went back to San Luis and his college life and I went about my high school days. I was not sure how to proceed with Scott. I knew he was not some you just date. He was the marrying type. And I was a junior in high school. I still was in denial that those sparks between us at the prom were real. Then suddenly, within a week someone I had had a crush on since freshman year began showing interest in me. Let’s call him Mr. Colgate. He had a smile that could light up a room. And within a month, like any stupid girl high school girl would do, I began dating Mr. Colgate. And I closed the book on Mr. Chambless. Or so I thought.