“Alex.” His name sounds so sad in my mouth.
But he just shakes his head. “I—”
I don’t know what he’s going to say because it falls quiet on stage. The lights dim, casting darkness in our small corner.
Alex leans back ever so slightly, his shoulder brushing against mine. My stomach flips. Was that intentional? No, I’m reading too much into it. This desk is so small. It was an accident.
Right?
In the darkness, my eyes find his chest. His breaths accelerate.In-out-in-out-in-out.Does he feel it, too? Am I the only one who feels this undefined friction between us? I don’t know. I try looking at him, but I can’t read his expression in the dark.
I focus on the stage. The only source of light is the spotlight that pours down on the two actors on stage. Alex adjusts his posture, leaving a bigger gap of space between us. The hopeful expansion in my chest immediately deflates. I’m imagining this. I’m overreacting to everything.
That’s when the lights go completely dark, startling me. Scene change. It must be. We both move to get off the desk at the same time, but I stumble. He quickly grabs my shoulder to stabilize me. The warmth of his hand penetrates through the sleeve of my shirt.
He doesn’t let go.
Not immediately.
Alex’s touch isn’t the VOOSH of raw energy I felt with Jay. It’s stronger. His contact is a gravitational pull, tilting my universe off axis. My skin is made of stars, and I am spinning, spinning, spinning through space.
“Are you okay?” he says, reeling me back to reality. I’m dizzy in a way that has nothing to do with the darkness. “I should have warned you.” He lets go, and it takes everything in me not to protest. “I have to move these real quick.”
I watch as his silhouette positions new props on stage. All I can do is stand there, trying to figure out what just happened.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I already know.
Alex disappears from the main stage just as the light filters back on. He’s smiling, adjusting the back of his beanie as he heads toward me.
“Try not to look so impressed. Those things can’t move themselves.”
I laugh, but it comes out strangely. My throat is dry, and I’ve suddenly lost the ability to string together an intelligible sentence.
He scratches his neck. “I won’t make you stay. You probably have better things to do.”
The thing is, I don’t.
I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.
“No,” I tell him. “I want to stay.”
It’s hard to tell because it’s so dark, but I swear I catch him smile.
That’s when I know.
Oh god.
I like Alex.
TWENTY FOUR
TODAY IS HOMECOMING, BUT INSTEADof meeting my friends in homeroom I’ve been sitting in my car for the last several minutes. Groups of freshmen snap selfies outside of the gym while flaunting their mums like badges of honor. Red-and-white ribbons billow in the breeze and entangle their legs as they parade through the double doors.
My freshman mum from Jay is still hanging in my closet. I remember when he gave it to me, and how most of the ribbons were wrinkled and glue-gun spiderwebs hung from the fake petals of the mum. Even the lettering of my name was crooked. I knew it was a haphazard disaster, but I was so enamored with him that I didn’t care.
Jay had walked me the long way to my English class that day, specifically maneuvering past the gym so the basketball guys could see us together. When I sat down at my desk, Alex was looking at me like he was trying not to laugh.
“What?”I’d snapped.
