It’s hard for people to refuse me, even teachers, and Mrs. Wakely is quickly swept up in my enthusiasm and making arrangements with Headmaster Higgins. After that I’m the hero of the day, getting high fives in the hallways and whispers in my ear of “I’ll sneak the vodka.” Mrs. Wakely will be chaperoning, which might have been a wet blanket on the night if I hadn’t remembered a key detail. “I could sleep through a tornado,” she once said mournfully, when recounting to the class a comet that blazed across the sky in the 2000s—something everyone in her life managed to stay awake to witness but her. I’m banking on history repeating itself, and Mrs. Wakely being a fabulously unobservant chaperone.
Part of the deal was that I’d be in charge of setup, but I don’t even mind. I enlist Stephanie, Derek, and Brandon for the morning of the party, and of course Nicole offers to help as soon as she hears what we’re up to, so I have four other sets of hands pitching tents and stringing lights from the trees on the South Lawn. When Stephanie asks Nicole who she’s “tenting with,” I feel a momentary pang of worry that I’m expected to invite her to share our tent. I mean, don’t I deserve one night off from making small talk with this girl I have nothing in common with? Thankfully, Nicole replies that she’s sharing with Brianne and another chick from orchestra. It’s a relief to know she has actual friends besides that violin of hers.
Friday night approaches, and dinner flashes by in an excited blur. Soon it’s time for Mrs. Wakely to lead our class out of the dining room, past the envious stares of the seniors, who never had the sense to come up with an idea like this when they took Astronomy. Moments later, we’re outside and hiking toward the South Lawn, adjacent to the soccer field. It looks like a summer dream after our decoration job.
Twinkling lights and paper lanterns hang from the trees, patio chairs fill the spaces between tents, and a large patch of grass is kept clear for dancing. Three tables stand together on the outskirts of the tents, holding pitchers of ice water and lemonade, dessert platters, portable speakers, and, to placate our teacher, astronomy cards. From our classmates’ whoops as they enter, it’s clear that this outdoor slumber party I dreamed up is a winner.
Stephanie cues up the playlist, and our favorite Rihanna track starts blaring. She shimmies over to me, and before Mrs. Wakely knows what hit her, the sedate little astronomy gathering I promised her turns into a dance-off. I bump hips with Stephanie, let Derek twirl me around, and then I dance alone in the center of a growing crowd, lifting my arms above my head and showing off my toned abs as I do my best Shakira moves. I scan the faces cheering me on, and my eyes find Chace’s. Knowing he’s watching sends a thrill tickling down my spine. I look away, pretending I didn’t see him—but he’s the one I’m dancing for.
After starting with such a bang, I’m thrown when the rest of the night doesn’t go according to plan. I don’t know what I expected exactly, but it definitely wasn’t watching as my crush got chatted up by every other girl in our class. Two hours and three drinks later (yes, we spiked the lemonade, duh) he still hasn’t even approached me. Of course, it only makes me hunger for him more. So I do what any girl in my position should. I laugh harder and louder than everyone else. I dance with whichever guy bops over to me, regardless of whether or not I find them repulsive. I keep that “Happiest Girl in America” smile fixed on my face, ignoring Chace as steadfastly as he appears to be ignoring me. But when my eyes flick back over to him and find him deep in conversation with Nicole, of all people, I feel my energy deflate. Why is he wasting time with all these other jokers, when I’m practically offering myself up on a silver platter?
After half an hour of pretending to pay attention to my friends’ chatter while secretly watching Chace and Nicole out of the corner of my eye, I finally stalk past the two of them, heading for the telescope. I don’t give a hoot about what’s going on in the sky, but at least it gives me something to do while I formulate my next move.
I’m squinting into the lens, trying to figure out what’s so thrilling up there, when I feel a hand on my shoulder.
“Hey,” Chace says, his breath warm against my neck. “What’s up?”
“Hey,” I reply, still looking into the telescope. I’m not about to turn around and drop everything just because he finally decided to pay attention to me.
“Something tells me Mrs. Wakely is going to pull the plug on the music soon,” he says into my ear. “Want to get a dance in before she does?”
Based on the panicked expression I saw on our teacher’s face while watching a group of us grind our hips and shimmy our shoulders to “Bitch Better Have My Money,” I have a feeling Chace might be right. But still. I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of a dance so easily.
“I’m a little busy right now,” I tell him, nodding at the telescope.
“Is anything happening up there yet?” he asks.
“I can’t tell,” I admit grudgingly.
He laughs, a warm and wonderful sound, and leans in so his shoulder is touching mine.
“Let me look.”
“So what were you and my roomie talking about?”
The words just slip out, and my cheeks blaze in embarrassment. Why did I say that aloud? It must be because I’m just so baffled that he even has two words to say to her. They couldn’t be more different.
“We were talking about you, actually.”
Now I can’t even feign indifference. I step away from the telescope, eyeing him.