“Only because of homecoming!” I make an effort to lower my voice. “I just can’t believe you’d do something like this . . . You were supposed to be my best friend.”
She lowers her chin in what appears to be genuine remorse. “I’m so sorry. It was beyond wrong and immature to let a guy affect our friendship. I know that now.”
I don’t doubt she’s truly sorry. Kassie has never been one to apologize, even when she knows she’s wrong. And while I can try to forgive her for the past, I don’t know that it’s enough to repair us.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” she pleads.
“Stop lying,” I demand. “You lie to me, all the time. Not just about big things, but about insignificant things too. And I know you don’t like conflict, but it hurts because I know you’re lying. Change plans, do whatever it is you’re going to do, but at least give me the respect of telling the truth.”
She winces. “I know. I really do need to work on that. I’m sorry for hurting you. I never meant to. I swear. We just have really different ways of dealing with things and sometimes it makes it hard.”
“Tell me about it,” I huff.
“In the end . . . we’ve always been different, haven’t we?” She’s not wrong. We’ve always been polar opposites. And without a common town, a common high school, and a common group of friends, who are we really to each other?
“We were always opposites,” I agree. Yin and yang. That’s what Mom calls us.
“Well, from here on out, it’ll be one hundred percent honesty. I promise.” She reaches for my hand and squeezes. For a flash, I see Adult Kassie in yoga-wear. While I appreciate the gesture, I think we both know something has changed. Something irreversible. It’s like the tiniest hairline fracture that will inevitably deepen with time.
Maybe Mom was right. Maybe not all friends are meant to be in your life for the long haul. Not being friends anymore doesn’t have to involve a catastrophic fight. No one means to hurt the other person. People just move on with life. Sad as it is, it also brings me a sense of peace.
“Well, for the sake of honesty, I need to tell you something too.” I contemplate telling her everything. But I settle for the heart of it. “I have feelings for Renner.”
Her eyes bulge. “No. Way. What? Since you guys kissed at the sleepover?”
That doesn’t seem right either. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened. Was it that first smile he gave me on the bleachers the first day of school? The hours of bickering? That kiss on the rooftop? It doesn’t really matter. Somehow, Renner took hold of my heart and made it whole. Fuller. Happier. “For . . . a long time. I think.”
And while Kassie doesn’t know everything, she can interpret the look in my eyes. Somehow, she just knows what I need, because she’s still my best friend, for now at least. “Go find him,” she says with a nudge.
With her approval, I march back into the gym, head held high—only, the mood has slowed. And that’s when I hear it. That familiar tune.
The Dirty Dancing song.
FORTY
The lighting is low, and glittering dots of yellow swirl around the dance floor.
It’s like wading through a starry galaxy as I pass through the crowd, the rhythm of the music thrumming in my ears. You know it’s the end of the night when the girls’ hair is plastered to their foreheads with sweat, and guys’ dress shirts are wrinkled and partially unbuttoned. It’s nearing eleven o’clock, but everyone is holding strong on the dance floor. These are the last precious moments of high school.
As I round the refreshment table, I spot a tall figure chatting with the DJ. I know it’s Renner. No one else has that self-assured stance. He beams when he spots me, handsome face backlit by the blue lights near the stage. Human sunshine.
When our eyes meet, the crowd seems to part, opening a direct path to him. There’s a knowing look in his eyes. A look of realization, fear, adoration, all wrapped into one. Without even saying a word, I know he’s experienced it too. I know it deep in my soul.
It’s only when my feet start to ache that I realize we’re walking toward the middle of the star-filled dance floor.
We stop and he holds his hand out. “Dance with me?”
“I’m scared you might drop me,” I say.
A smile dances across his lips. “Touché. No fancy lifts this time. I promise.”
I pretend to look around. “But what about your date?”
He smiles ruefully. “She’s over there . . . making out with Cliff.”
I crane my neck. Andie and Cliff Johnson are making out against the bleachers. “Oh? I didn’t know they were a thing.” In fact, I’m fairly certain Cliff had a date from another school at the beginning of the night.
He shrugs. “Guess they are now.”
My eyes flare. “But I thought . . .”
“Andie and I went to prom as friends.”
“It didn’t look like you were just friends. Andie likes you.”
“She does.” Renner’s Adam’s apple dips. “And I told her I wanted to stay friends.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I told her I had feelings for someone else. And have for a long time. I told Andie I wasn’t sure if this girl felt the same way, but I had to see. That I’d regret it if I didn’t.” He makes a come-hither motion with his hand. “Now come here before our song ends.”
My stomach loosens and I finally feel like I can breathe. “You requested it?”
He dips his chin and nods.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me it happened to you too?”
He smirks. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I thought you’d think I’d lost my mind,” I say, peering up at him.
“We both have. Clearly. And you seemed too angry when we woke up in the gym . . . I thought there was no way.”
I blink, confused. “I could say the same to you. I mean, you did tell me I looked like shit.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m a dumbass. What can I say? I don’t think that’s ever gonna change. Even when we’re thirty.”
“Fair.”
“How did you know for sure?” he asks.
“Kassie. She told me the truth about homecoming. You?”
“I kinda put the pieces together when you jumped me on the roof. And you said that thing about my sister and taking the burden for my parents and I just . . . I hadn’t told anybody that before.”
“I can’t believe this. It’s so weird.”
He nods. “It would be slightly less weird if you’d dance with me.” He extends his hand again and I take it. He gently pulls me into him, one hand splayed on my waist, while the other tucks a ringlet behind my ear and then wraps around my lower back. “I like your hair.”
“Ugh. Don’t lie. It looks awful.”
He chuckles as he twirls me. “Any style would suit you. I promise.”
“Good, ’cause I was thinking of getting an angled mom-bob.”
He cringes. “How do we even begin to explain this to our grandchildren?”
“Wow. Now we’re having grandchildren? We haven’t even broached the topic of kids yet.”
“Hey, you’re the one that went there, talking about mom hairstyles.”
“Was it . . . real?” I ask, burrowing my head into his neck.
“I don’t know. It felt real. Everything I said to you was real. To me. And those feelings haven’t stopped since we’ve come back. And I can’t just continue pretending it never happened because real life doesn’t feel real without you. I can’t pretend I don’t love you.”
I’m filled with a warmth I’ll never forget, like a soft, fizzy drink. I tilt my eyes to his. “You love me? Are you sure?” I ask, leaning closer to confirm I’ve heard him correctly.
His thumb sweeps along my jaw in a gentle rhythm. “Surer than I’ve ever been.”
“I love you too,” I shout over the music, though it comes out more like iloveyou!
His shoulders sag in what looks like relief. “I didn’t know if you were gonna admit that.”
I relish the low vibration of his voice. “I had to. We only have one week left,” I remind him, unable to hide my disappointment.