I waited in the bathroom for a few minutes, playing on my phone and turning what Trent had said over in my mind.
Trent Bolger was a bully, no matter what anyone said. No matter how many times he avoided punishment because he was on Chapel Hill High School’s varsity football team.
And Cyprian Cusumano was my friend. Even if I still didn’t understand why, exactly.
But what did Trent mean, that Chip had a boner for me? He was jealous of us being friends, and jealous that Chip was outgrowing him, and he would say anything to make trouble.
There was no way Chip liked me as more than a friend.
For as long as I’d known him, Chip had only ever dated girls. If he liked guys too, he would have said something.
Even if he didn’t like me, he would’ve said something.
Right?
I slipped my phone into my pocket. Landon was waiting, and I refused to let Trent Bolger ruin my night.
“You okay?” Landon asked as he led me back to the dance floor.
“Yeah.”
“Your face is red.”
“It’s hot in here.”
Landon’s hands rested on my hips as we swayed along to the music—DJ Loud Noises had picked a nice slow song, one I’d heard Dad sing to Mom when he thought no one else could hear.
I waited for one of the chaperones to come along, but no one did.
“This is nice,” Landon said. He stepped in closer to me, so close our bodies were nearly touching. I could smell his cologne and a little bit of his sweat too.
The song switched to a faster one, with thrumming bass and some innuendo-laden lyrics. Landon stepped closer, and even though I was okay with breaking the Chaperone-Mandated Minimum Distance, I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with him grinding against me on the dance floor. Not when everyone could see us.
Landon did this thing where he rolled his hips against me. I arched my back to pull away a tiny bit.
“What?” he asked.
“I just don’t want to get in trouble,” I shouted over the music.
He rolled his eyes.
“You’re no fun.”
All around us, everyone else was dancing and smiling and even stealing a few kisses here and there.
But Coach Winfield was prowling the fringes of the dance floor, frowning at anyone who got too close to their dance partner.
Landon followed my gaze and kind of shrugged. He backed away, just a little bit, but kept dancing. I did my best to keep up, swiveling my hips to the beat. I wasn’t the best dancer, but I wasn’t the worst. Years of dancing at Persian functions had at least given me a sense of rhythm, and some decent footwork.
Cyprian Cusumano, on the other hand, was an abysmaldancer, but he didn’t seem to care. I caught sight of him across the gym: He was jumping and flailing and smiling and laughing, like he didn’t care who saw him. He caught my eye and waved, this goofy grin splashed across his face. I shook my head.
“What?” Landon shouted. He glanced behind him and watched Chip hopping around. “Wow.”
He took my hand and spun me around. I grinned and spun him back.
And then I decided to risk it: I leaned in and gave him a super-quick kiss, barely more than a peck on the lips.
“Kellner!” Coach Winfield bellowed from behind me. “Watch it!”
