My brother’s brow lowers and his mouth grows rigid as he blinks a few times.
“Katie and I aren’t together anymore,” he says, and instantly my mind goes to my best friend. This is Izzy’s chance!
“Oh, honey…” my mom says, falling into her doting habit.
“I broke it off; it’s okay. We just…I don’t know, she’s like really into clothes and shoes and shopping. We’re too different.”
“So you’re coming…alone?” I ask, my head leaning to one side as I ask.
“Uh…yeah…why?” my brother asks.
“No reason,” I respond quickly, my answer clipped. He pinches his brow, and I wink, now wanting to sprint to the gym, to find Izzy and tell her the good news.
I kiss my parents on their cheeks, leaving them with my brother while I take Nico’s arm and walk toward the gym. I drown in his scent, a mixture of soap and cologne, and something else that is always so distinctly him. I’ve come to recognize it, noticing when he’s near and missing it when he’s gone. It feels silly to love the way someone smells so much, but I do with him.
He stops me at the corner of the building, taking both of my hands in his, lifting the one with the corsage slightly higher.
“I hope it’s okay…the flower. My mom insisted I give you one, and she said blue would match your eyes,” he says, laughing out the last few words and shaking his head, embarrassed. When he looks back up at me, he bites his lip. The silence is unsettling, but in the best possible way.
“What?” I ask.
“You look really pretty,” he says.
I suck in my bottom lip and stare back at him.
“Thank you,” I say, the words coming out in a whisper.
Nico looks over his shoulder as a rush of couples walk by, a few saying “excuse me,” and causing him to step in closer to me to let them pass. He takes advantage of the nearness, sweeping my hair back on one side and leaning in to press his lips just below my ear.
The feel of his hand sliding down my arm grounds me, and when his fingers meet mine, I flex them open, everything falling into place when his knuckles glide against mine and fit where they just belong.
We walk side by side to the gym, Nico handing a pass to the students at the table, guiding me through an archway made of balloons, and bypassing a row of tables near the entrance, leading me straight to the middle of the floor. Nobody has started to dance yet, but a slow song is playing. It’s country, and I don’t recognize it, but I can barely hear it over the thumping of my pulse rattling my entire body.
I can feel eyes on us, people watching to see who is moving to the dance floor first. I was hoping we’d sit for a while, maybe work our way up to a slow dance or two, but then I remember Nico’s warning—that I’d spend the night here with him, in the middle of the floor where everyone can see us.
“They’re all looking at us,” I giggle nervously in his ear, and he draws me close. His hands rest on my hips, and I link mine around his neck, our cheeks close while my eyes snap around the room, tallying up where people are, who’s watching, and deciphering if anyone really cares.
“They’re all looking at you,” Nico says.
I pull back and tuck my chin, glaring at him.
“Not being corny. Just being honest,” he says.
My lip ticks up on one side into a half smile, and I move back in against him. I let my eyes wander around the room, and while a lot of people are looking, I think they mostly see us as a couple they don’t recognize. A few of them might be wondering why the new quarterback is with the coach’s daughter—even fewer probably thinking our pairing has something to do with his position. But mostly, people seem to move on with their own dates, their own insecurities, their own crushes, jealousies, gossip-fests and more. Nico and I make slow circles in silence, under glittering lights installed just hours ago, and with every pass of the eyes that were moments ago watching us, fewer look up, until at last—we’re alone.
Nico doesn’t let me go for four songs, and we talk very little. I pay close attention to the feel of his fingertips on my waist, to where they move, how far up my back they travel, how they graze my arms and move my hair. I note every touch and shiver with the feel of it. I’ve forgotten about my repurposed dress, about the eyes around the room—I’ve forgotten about anything that was before there was a me and Nico, and then I start to laugh.
I try to hold it in at first, but he can feel my chest moving, my shoulders raising with each chuckle. Finally, he steps back enough so we can look at one another, and I fail at trying to hide my laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he asks.
“Do you know how much I used to hate you?” I say.
His eyes flash wide, and his mouth falls open. I realize instantly how my sentence sounded, but there’s no other way to say it, so I shake my head slightly and simply own it.
“Wow…hate, huh?” he asks, lifting his brow when he says the h word.