After a moment, the door opens a crack. Her face is flushed, her eyes panicked. “Are you crazy? What if our parents heard?”
“So, we’re even?” I press, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s hardly the same thing, considering I’m fully clothed. Maybe you should reply the next time I ask if there’s anyone in the bathroom.”
She attempts to close the door, but I wedge my foot in the frame. “Wait. Where did you learn to dance like that?”
“Why, so you can tell everyone at school?”
Ouch. She doesn’t pull any punches. “I promise I won’t say a word.”
“I’m serious Theo, no one can know about this. It’s private business.”
“Wait a second,” I say, grinning. “Am I the first guy to see you dance like that?”
I love that look of a deer-in-the-headlights she gives me when she’s flustered. I love it that I’ve seen a side of her no one else has.
“Wipe that grin off your face,” she says, but there’s no anger in her voice, only a hint of vulnerability.
“Chrissy,” I start, dropping the teasing tone, “I’m sorry about today. I never meant to make your life difficult.”
Her gaze softens. “So, what was your intention?”
I step a little closer, so there’re only inches of space between us. “Just . . . wanted to hang out, I guess. Like we used to—before we stopped being friends.” Her expression flickers with something I can’t quite read. “Mind if I come in?”
She stands there for a while and then steps aside so I can enter.
Books, a few plush toys, and—no way, a Nintendo Switch—fill her shelves. I pick up a controller, inspecting it.
She snatches it out of my hand. “Touch nothing.”
“Noted,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. I spot a poster on the wall above her bed, filled with guys in sharp suits and colored hair. “What’s up with these guys?”
Her face lights up like holiday decorations, and I start wishing I had that effect on her, too. “BTS. They’re from South Korea. Their music resonates with me, and they’re such great dancers.”
I don’t like ’em already. “Is that what you were dancing to?”
She nods, unfolding her arms. “Dancing is how I deal with troublemakers.”
Something tells me I belong in that group. “Do you see me as trouble?”
She rolls her eyes and walks toward her bed.
“C’mon it’s a simple yes or no.”
“Yes,” she says, no hesitation this time.
I arch a brow, not knowing if I should laugh or cry.
“No,” she corrects herself, then lets out a sigh. “Okay, yes, sometimes.”
Now I can’t help but laugh, and she narrows her eyes at me, but I can see the corner of her mouth twitching up. “You know, if you danced like that at the talent show, you could make a big splash.”
Color disappears from her soft face. “Absolutely not. Everyone would make fun of me.”
I shake my head, baffled. “But you were amazing just now.”
She moves to sit on her bed. “You wouldn’t get it. Being noticed isn’t always a good thing. It opens you up to judgement. I’d rather stay in the background.
