He gives me a cheeky grin.
“Wow, I...” I don’t get flustered around boys. Around boys is usually where I feel most in command, a shameless flirt. “I don’t get it. Where’s this coming from?”
Alex lifts a hand into his hair, raking it through his curls. Then he extends his arm, pointing. “Know the tracks down there?”
“I’ve graffitied my initials on them.” I shouldn’t sound so proud of this.
He laughs at me, a loud bark that makes me think he doesn’t let it loose enough. That he’s not usually like this, either, but he tried something different and is liking the way it’s working out for him. It isn’t the reaction I expected from Mr. Honors Boy, but I find myself grinning back. I keep trying to shock him and the reverse happens instead.
I am delighted.
“This morning I was walking along those tracks to school, had my headphones on, almost got hit by a train.”
My smile dies.
I’m picking up that nervous energy from him again, and he walks faster, has to double back for me because my feet hurt, so I’m progressing slowly. He glances down at my shoes like he can actuallyguessthat. “Right? Crazy. Could’ve gotten my insides splattered all over the Moonville tunnel and I’d never even gotten up the nerve to ask you out yet. I would become a ghost with unfinished business; you’d feel cold spots following you all the time, but you’d never know what it was about. Wouldn’t know anything about me, wouldn’t miss me. I’d have been a memorial service that got you out of school for half a day, and that’s all.”
I stare at him. Air sticks to my lungs, unable to circulate.
His forehead creases, serious now. “I just wanted you to know who I am. I made it off the tracks with seconds to spare, and my first thought was,Fuck! She wouldn’t have even cared!”
“I’d care,” I force out.
“Listen, I didn’t mean to freak you out. I’m not dead. Say no if you wanna say no, that’s cool, no pressure.” I hang back, so he returns, but can’t stand still. His shoe taps the concrete sidewalk, fingers drumming against his thighs, reaching to muss his hair, base of his thumb skimming up the bridge of his nose. I can’t stop staring at all the ways he’s in motion even when he remains rooted to one spot.
“You’ll have fun with me, I promise,” he goes on earnestly. “I know you’re more outgoing than I am, but I’ll catch up. I’ll be the most attentive date you’ve ever had. I’ll carry your purse, your shoes, I’ll dance the slow songs, the fast songs, I’ll sit down with you when you want.”
The dance is two weeks away. I have a dress but no date: I’ve had my sights set on Corey, but despite my lending him a stick of gum in third period every day all year, he’s still going with LeAnne.Andrew and Javier are my reserves. Alex from world history (and apparently algebra) did not even register. Until now.
I swallow. “My dress is pink.”
His face transforms. And now he’s the one who can’t bring himself to speak, lips pressed tightly together as his mouth twists, fighting back a smile that I’m scared might change my life if he lets it free.
We’ve reached my porch. He halts. Butterflies twirl in my stomach.
“Night,” I say, voice cracking.
“Is it all right if I text you?”
I nod. After a few seconds, I’m not sure what else to do—I think he was counting on hearing a rejection, and hadn’t prepared for what would happen if the outcome went how he wanted—so I hop up the long, low, wooden steps to my porch. Our front window pours yellow light onto the narrow boards, making my slanting shadow wobble. I hear loud, furious voices inside. This house is where most of my stress lives. It blazes high and sweltering as I approach, ready to feast on me for hours.
He looks at the door, then at me. I don’t want him to have heard, but I think he did.
“You can text me, too,” he says, softer. “And call. Anytime.”
I give him a small, embarrassed wave. “All right.”
Before he gets too far down the sidewalk, he jogs backward, skidding to a stop in front of the house again. “Seriously, please call. I would fucking love it if you called.” The lopsided grin is back. “Oh! Also! What shade of pink? If I show up in a hot pink tie and you’re in, like, coral, I’m gonna look stupid.”
I smile into my hand. “Dusty rose. I’ll send you a picture.”
“Great!” He gives a thumbs-up. Begins to run again.
“You should watch your step.”
“I love that you want me to watch my step, Romina Romina.”
“Hey, Alex!”
