Emily’s expression softens. Dorothy nods, apparently satisfied, and drifts back into the crowd after a few more questions. I resist the urge to high five myself.
Emily leans closer. “Thank you. I hate that question. Everyone acts like it’s a deadline.”
“I get it.” And I do.
Later, we slip away from the main cluster and hover near the edge of the dance floor. Music vibrates through the floorboards.
“You holding up okay?” I ask.
“I am. Thanks for checking.”
“Want another drink? Or some air?”
“Air sounds perfect.”
Outside, the mid-August air is cooler. Quieter. The moonlight ricochets off the lake while the city hums in the distance. Nora’s words about what would happen if I stopped trying so hard settles in deep inside me. I’m not panicking. I’m not cataloging facts. I’m just… here. After a few minutes, we step back inside, and I excuse myself to use the restroom.
I push through the door, duck into a stall, and lock it. My heart races, but not in a bad way. More like… progress. I pull out my phone.
Miles
Hey.
Her reply comes almost instantly.
Nora
Is your date over?
A smile pulls at my mouth.
Miles
No.
Nora
Then where are you and why are you texting me?
I glance around at the tile walls, the music thudding faintly through them.
Miles
I’m in the bathroom.
Nora
You’re texting me from the bathroom while still on your date?
My grin widens.
Miles
I wanted to tell you I followed all your directions.
I watch the typing dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Miles
