She crossed her arms. Uncrossed them. Crossed them again.
The air was heavy with the smell of beer, body spray, and too many boys in one space. Her messy bun was failing her now, strands falling loose and sticking to her neck, frizzing out in the humid coastal night. She swiped at them absently, blinking through the fog of noise and movement and too many eyes.
She shouldn’t have come.
Daisy was off somewhere flirting with the starting kicker from the team. Daisy would be annoyed when she realized Ali was looking for a way out. Her chest felt tight. Like the walls were too close and the music too loud and the lights too sharp.
She was three feet from the door when she felt a hand wrap gently around her forearm.
She froze.
“Hey,” Dylan said.
She turned. Slowly. His voice was soft and calm— completely at odds with the chaos around them. And he was holding out a red Solo cup.
“I figured you could use a Coke Zero,” he said, grinning. “Not spiked. Promise.”
She blinked at him, surprised.
“Dylan—”
“You were about to ghost,” he said, stepping closer, his tone teasing but not unkind. “C’mon. We’re not letting you escape that easily.”
She gave a half-hearted smile and looked toward the door again.
“Five minutes,” he offered, nodding toward the porch. “Just fresh air. I’ll even keep an eye on your skort so it doesn’t try to strangle you again.”
Her cheeks flushed. “I’m not— how do you even know about that?”
“I have a sister. And eyes,” he said, nudging her shoulder lightly. “You keep tugging at it like it owes you money.”
That startled a laugh out of her. Just a small one.
Without waiting for her answer, he opened the front door and led the way outside. The porch was quieter, the cool breeze a welcome relief. He dropped down onto the wooden porch swing and patted the seat next to him.
She hesitated. Swallowed hard. That swing creaked under normal people. She wasn’t sure she wanted to risk the embarrassment.
He caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“Ali,” he said gently, “if I can bench three hundred pounds and sit on this swing without it snapping, I think you’re good.”
Her heart beat louder than the music now. But she gave in, slowly lowering herself beside him.
“There we go,” he said, draping his arm casually across the back of the swing. “See? No structural damage.”
Ali rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips.
They sat like that for a beat—just the creak of the swing, the far-off sound of cheers from the backyard, and the faint smell of the bay drifting in with the breeze.
“You looked like you were having fun tonight,” he said quietly. “Cheering and all that.”
She looked at him sideways. “I wasn’t exactly front and center.”
“I noticed anyway.”
Her stomach flipped. She took a sip of her Zero to cover it.
“I’m glad you stayed,” he added, his fingers brushing her shoulder lightly. “This party would’ve sucked without you.”
