I stepped out onto the curb, heels meeting cracked concrete, and straightened the hem of my dress. Red had felt right when I bought it. Loud without being desperate. Confident in a way my seventeen year old self had never mastered. Now it felt a little like I was trying too hard.
Landon climbed out behind me, suit jacket already unbuttoned, tie loosened just enough to look intentional. He’d actually listened when I told him this wasn’t strictly black tie but he had to look nice. His hair was combed back, neat at the sides, no rebellious swoop threatening to undo the effort.
I smiled up at him. “Thanks for taming the hair.”
“For you? It was worth the trauma.”
I snorted, then caught myself watching him adjust his cuffs. Clean lines. Broad shoulders. The kind of man people noticed without trying. A thought slipped in uninvited, unwelcome and persistent.
This might’ve been a better plan all along, coming here with Landon instead of James.
I shoved it aside and started toward the entrance, the thump of music bleeding through the gym doors. Halfway there, my feet slowed. Then stopped.
Landon noticed immediately. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I just need a minute.”
I stared at the doors, the high balloon arch against the familiar yellow paint I’d once thought was cheerful. Not so cheerful anymore considering what my last years here were like.
He stepped closer, but not to hurry me along. His presence was steady and patient beside me.
“High school wasn’t great,” I said, the understatement almost laughable. “Walking back in there feels… bigger than it should.”
“It’s just that memory scale thing, remember? No big deal.” Then he added, “I won’t leave your side. Bathroom breaks excluded. I have boundaries.”
Something in my chest eased. “Deal.”
I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and started walking again. Landon matched my pace easily, close enough that I could feel the warmth of him without touching.
“Before we go in,” I said, holding up a finger. “Ground rules.”
His mouth curved. “Knew there’d be fine print.”
“Touching’s allowed,” I said. “But not my chest and not my butt.”
“Tragic. I had grand plans for that swooping neckline of yours. Anything else?”
“Cheek kisses only. No mouth.”
He made a thoughtful sound, tapping his chin lightly. “Cruel but fair. What else?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, the music suddenly louder even though we hadn’t moved. It made no sense that I would feel so stupid about this. “You can hold my hand.”
“That one I like,” he said, a half-smile creeping onto his lips.
“These are rules, Landon,” I emphasized. “Not suggestions.”
He dipped his head, voice pitched low so only I could hear. “Let’s see where the night takes us.”
I shot him a look that was meant to be annoyed and landed somewhere else entirely. There was no hiding with him, no pretending I wasn’t enjoying this as much as him. He smiled, unrepentant, and reached for the door.
The gym exploded with sound and light the second we stepped inside. Streamers in school colors crisscrossed the ceiling, and whatever balloons couldn’t fit into the arch were strewn, well, everywhere. Someone had gone all in on nostalgia, right down to the playlist of songs that had once felt groundbreaking and now sounded slightly ridiculous.
I was still taking it all in when I became aware of the hush coming over the general buzz of conversation. Then out of nowhere, it surged back louder.
“Oh, my God, Nicole Gordon?”
“Is that you?”
