And I’ve read the placard with the history of this building, thus knowing how old it is.
Now, I lean against the wall and look out at the sea of bodies yearning to hold each other close while avoiding the attention of chaperones who want enough space to fit a ruler between them. I try to watch all the couples equally, but my eyes keep going back to Lily and Hardy. They smile at each other as they talk. Lily laughs at something Hardy says. She melts into his touch. They’re good for each other, and I’m happy for them. Truly, I am.
But I’m also sad.
I’ve been so busy with trying to get Citrus Scholar that I haven’t had as much time with Lily as I’d hoped. What was supposed to be a senior year filled with epicmemories has felt more like death by a thousand paper cuts. She’s still my best friend, but the last few months have been a slow and painful breakup.
I know things can’t stay the same forever, but I thought I had more time. And if Mrs. Grafton is right, the second semester is going to fly by even faster than the first. The thought is too much.
I turn to find something to drink so I don’t continue to watch them like some overzealous private investigator. And slam into something hard. Well, someone.
“Adams,” the person says in a low, amused voice.
I tip my chin up and see Connor. He’s wearing a deep blue suit but no tie. His hair is slightly less messy than usual but still has enough wave that he looks like himself. And his smile is warm.
“Hey,” I say as I regain my balance.
“Having a good time?”
I sigh.Not really.
My two best friends are slipping away, and somehow Connor became just as important to me while I least expected it. Things are weird to say the least.
Ever since our almost kiss, things with Connor have felt stiff. He still comes to help me with set design, but we’ve never had a repeat of what almost happened a couple of weeks ago. It’s been shallow, forced conversations that have left me wondering if I imagined the whole thing because maybe deep down I wanted it to happen.
I. Wanted. It. To. Happen.
What is wrong with me?
Connor and I have one little heart-to-heart about how hard it is to live with our families—and how this scholarship would make things better—and all of a sudden, I want him to shove his tongue down my throat? Are my insecurities so deep and my hormones so wild that my only solution is kissing him?
No, I know it’s not some bizarre coping mechanism. It’s more than that. I like Connor, and not just as a friend. It’s been a slow transformation. One that started at Hardy’s party and has shifted so slowly I almost didn’t realize it was happening.
Until he almost kissed me.
Until I almost let him.
Until I couldn’t stop thinking about what it might feel like.
Until I spent way too much of my savings to buy the floor length gown I’m wearing tonight because it’s light blue, and he once told me that was his favorite color.
I wanted him to see me in it, and now he is. Not only that, he’s staring at me, almost expectantly. That’s when I remember that he asked me something. He’s waiting for me to answer, and all I can think about is what it might feel like to kiss him and if he likes my dress.
My cheeks burn as I try to recall the question, but my brain revolts and thinks about his lips even more. I panic and cup my ear with my hand. “What did you say?”
Connor leans in so his mouth is inches from my face. “Are you having a good time?”
My face burns even hotter, and I step back. Barelyresisting the urge to use my hand as a fan, I smile. “Yep. Noel is such a fun Citrus Prep tradition.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as the words escape my mouth. Did I really just say that? I mean yes, I like Noel, the winter dance our school does instead of homecoming, but did I need to sound like Dr. Freck with my response?
Connor laughs. “Yes, Citrus Prep has such unique experiences that sets it apart from other schools. Go Orange.”
I open my eyes to glare at him, but his smile is so warm that all feelings of irritation and embarrassment vanish at the sight of it. I grin back.
“Want to dance?” he asks.
My heart skips a beat then swiftly plummets. I’d love to dance with Connor and wonder if it might force us out of this strange place we’re in, but we’ve been standing here for several minutes. Already, I can hear the shift in the music. “The song’s almost done.”
