“Senior year,” says Brandon. “It’s your last high school Homecoming. Don’t you want a picture with your best friend?”
“I do,” says Rowan.
And that’s enough for me. I can do this for her. I force a smile onto my face.
Brandon takes a few steps back. “Try not to look like someone is killing you, Juliet.”
I’m tempted to give him the finger, but his voice is light, teasing. Everyone here is having fun. I should be, too.
Maybe I can fake it. I put an arm around Rowan’s waist and lean into her.
She puts her head against mine. “I’m proud of you,” she murmurs. “I know you don’t want to be here.”
A wave of emotion hits me hard, and my eyes are welling before I’m ready for it.
Brandon lowers the camera. “Are you okay?”
A tear escapes. I grab a napkin to stop it before any more can damage my makeup. “I’m fine. I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Rowan says, getting a napkin herself and dabbing gently to get something I’ve missed. “You’re amazing and brave and—”
I push her hand away and throw my arms around her neck to hug her. “Stop.” My voice is broken. “Stop, Ro. I’m none of those things. And I’m sorry I’ve been a bad friend.”
“You haven’t been a bad friend,” she says. “Not even once.”
A camera flash flares, and I draw back, sniffing away the tears. “Great,” I say to Brandon. “That’s a moment I want saved forever. The time my makeup dripped off my face at Homecoming.”
He presses a few buttons on his camera and turns it around to show me. “How about the moment two friends supported each other?”
Rowan and I look at the image on the screen. Brandon captured us with our eyes closed, midhug, and you can barely make out the fine line of tears on our lashes. Even on the small preview screen, emotion pours out of the camera. It’s a great photograph.
“You’re really talented,” I tell him, meaning it. He was great last year, but this is miles ahead of what he was shooting last spring. “It’s almost wasted on the yearbook.”
“Thanks.” He snorts. “And you’re right. Half the guys in our class won’t look past the fact that your boobs are touching.”
“How about you?” I say. “Are you looking past that fact?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Maybe.”
He’s flirting. I wish I could do the same in return. I’m smiling, but it’s probably on par with the expression from earlier when he told me to stop looking like someone was killing me. I feel so hollow inside.
I wonder, if I keep faking it, will I eventually believe it? A part of me worries that I’ll keep faking it and completely forget what’s real at all.
“Do you have to shoot all night?” I ask him.
“I can take breaks.”
“Do you want to dance?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize what I’m even saying. I was looking for something to do that wouldn’t involve talking or taking more pictures.
His eyes widen, and then he smiles. “Sure.”
I grab Rowan’s hand. “Ro has to come with us.”
“No, I do not,” she hisses. “You’re on a date, Jules—”
But then she sees my expression, and she allows herself to be dragged. “I hope you like threesomes,” she teases Brandon.
“Do you hear me complaining?”
We dive into the crowd. The theme of the dance is Songs through the Ages or something else completely lame, and the songs range from current, floor-pumping hits to bubblegum pop from the sixties. They’ve got a good DJ, though, because even the oldies are undercut with bass, the tempo altered to give everything a modern vibe. Right now we’re jamming to “It’s My Party.”
I’m not a great dancer or anything, but I can hold my own. I’m glad the music is fast so I don’t have to press close to Brandon. My hair is pinned up on my head, but I must not have enough bobby pins, because some of it has come loose. I don’t care. Now my hair can match my makeup.
The loud music is cathartic, and I begin to lose myself in the beat. Brandon has taken my hand a few times, but I’ve drawn away. He doesn’t push, which I appreciate. He’s also paying equal attention to Rowan, but she doesn’t avoid his hand. He spins her until she laughs. Her dress is white and strapless with silver beading through the bodice. The skirt is chiffon and flows past her knees, but it flares when she moves.
He’s a good guy. I wish I felt something.
Well, I do. Gratitude. He asked me out, giving me the opportunity to say yes.
Though he’s not the one who gave me the strength to say yes.
My eyes flick around the crowd again. He said he’d be here. I’m surrounded by people—hundreds of them—but somehow I’m trapped in a sphere of loneliness. Knowing The Dark is here keeps it from collapsing around me.
Would he be dancing? I don’t think so—though I don’t really know for sure. I feel like I know him so well in some ways, but in reality, I don’t know him at all.
The song is ending. This one is more modern, with a really peppy beat. Rowan and Brandon are doing some goofy move, and when the song ends, she collapses into giggles, almost crashing into him. He’s got a grin on his face as he catches her and sets her upright.
Looking at the two of them, I think he asked the wrong girl to the dance.
I wave a hand at my face, fanning air at myself. “I need to get some punch. You guys keep having fun.”
Brandon loses the smile. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah! Just thirsty.”
Rowan comes after me. “I’m sorry. I got carried away. I’m totally crashing your date.”
“No!” I put my hands on her arms. “I think he’s really into you. I want to step out of the gravitational pull for a few minutes.”
“But he asked you out—”
“Ro, trust me. I’m not into Brandon. I told you that all last year when you kept telling me I should date—” I stop short. “Oh my god. Ro, did you have a crush on him? Do you?”