“Wait, what are we doing?” I asked in an urgent whisper, digging in my heels.
“Going to talk to him. Obviously.”
I stole another glance in his direction. He really did look the part, mysterious and dashing in his dark sweater and sleek haircut. It was a level of elegance seldom witnessed at Millville High, where being sharply dressed meant tying both your shoes. I could easily picture him brooding in the corner of a drawing room while listening to classical music, or whatever was on NPR at the time. Was this the moment I’d read about so often, when two strangers caught sight of each other across a crowded ballroom? The connection would be instantaneous, drawing us together like magnets—as soon as he put down his phone.
“Ready,” I said.
Arden snapped her fingers at Lydia and Terry, signaling them to fall in behind us. My heart hammered as we closed the distance to where Mystery Guy—Will,I reminded myself—was sitting. From a chance sighting at the mall to a meaningful encounter on the sidelines of a field hockey match, the hand of destiny seemed to be nudging us together. With a little help from Arden, who cleared her throat before addressing the young man who had yet to acknowledge our presence.
“Hey,” she said brightly, dropping onto the bleacher at his side. “Will, right? How’s it going?”
At last his pale, sharply defined chin lifted. While waiting for him to notice me, I attempted a coquettish pose, glancing down through my lashes without being too obvious about it. His piercing hazel eyes rose. They moved across my face—
And kept going, until they landed on Terry. The double-take, that sudden inhalation of surprise and interest, his newly intent stare: it all happened exactly as I’d imagined. Unfortunately, it wasn’t happening tome. While Terry tried to cringe her way to invisibility, Arden’s surreptitious hand movement urged me to take up a position on Will’s other side.
“It’s so great you’re having a totally American experience,” she said to Will, who sat ramrod straight between us. “Friday Night Lights.”
“Except it’s supposed to be football, not field hockey,” Lydia pointed out.
“The school board was worried about traumatic brain injury,” I volunteered, showing off a heretofore undiscovered knack for banter. Let’s talk more about concussions!
“Where are my manners?” Arden smacked herself on the forehead. “We haven’t even introduced ourselves.” She left my name for last, which might have been a reasonably subtle tactic if she hadn’t followed it up by adding, “Mary actually comes from a family of geniuses. Both her parents are professors at the college, and she knowsallabout Millville, if you ever need a guide to the local attractions.”
His eyes flicked to Terry at the wordattractions. Leaning past me, he repeated her last name in a caressing tone.“Larios.”This was followed by a stream of rapid-fire Spanish, of which I caught the obviousyou speak Spanish?and Terry’s reluctantof course. As for the rest, I suspected it was along the lines ofyou walk in beauty like the night,because Terry blushed and looked away.
“So, Will,” Arden cut in. “Do you have any hobbies?”
He frowned at her.
“Sports? Clubs? Extracurriculars?”
“I like to ride my bike.”
Arden looked hopefully at me; I shook my head. No spandex shorts for me. When Will started to speak again, she brightened, clearly encouraged to see him taking an active role in the conversation.
“This country has no respect for cyclists,” he said in his clipped accent. “Your bike lanes are a disgrace.”
“Interesting.” Arden propped her chin on her hand. “You must have a unique perspective. What are some of the things you like?”
“Some of the people are charming,” he said, with another betraying glance at Terry.
Arden bit her lip; I could tell she was worried on my behalf. I also knew she was too much of an optimist to give up on her vision of how this evening was supposed to unfold without a fight. My feelings were more fatalistic. The dream of romance was like a butterfly that had been savagely pinned to a specimen board. If Terry and Will were meant for each other, far be it from me to stand in their way.
“You don’t paint your face like some girls,” Will murmured approvingly to Terry. “Why do they do that in this country?”
Terry shook her head, unable (or unwilling) to answer. Arden widened her eyes at me, urging me to seize the opening.
“At least it’s not lead-based, like they used to wear in the eighteenth century.” I laughed nervously. “People aren’t rotting their faces off.”
Although Terry appeared intrigued by this tidbit, Will’s lip curled in disgust.
On the field, the cheer team began shouting out a chant. The fans clapped in time, stomping the metal bleachers until the whole stadium shook.
Will winced. “So much yelling.”
Arden laughed as though he’d made a joke. “That’s kind of their job. You want me to teach you the words? You can impress all your friends at home.”
“We don’t do this where I’m from.” He sniffed in distaste. “Even the women are loud here.” His eyes strayed to Terry. “Most of them.”
