"That's great! Well, you two should definitely check out the photo booth later. We have props!" Jessica's already scanning the room for someone more important to talk to. "Owen, we should catch up later. I want to hear all about the city."
She's gone before I can respond, swept up in a conversation with someone who was probably prom court.
Ivy lets out a shaky breath. "See? Invisible."
"She's an idiot."
"She's just like Marcus, like everyone here."
"Then everyone's an idiot." I turn to face her fully. "Hey. Look at me."
She does, reluctantly.
"I see you," I say. "I've always seen you. And anyone who doesn't? Their loss."
She bites her lip, and I can see her trying to believe me. Wanting to, but not quite able to. I'm about to say something else when Marcus Webb appears at my elbow with two beers.
"Harper! There you are again. I brought you a drink." He thrusts one of the beers at me, barely glancing at Ivy. "Come on, the guys are all over by the bar. We're taking bets on who got fat."
"Classy," I say dryly, but I take the beer because refusing would cause a scene.
"Right? Johnson put on like fifty pounds. Dude looks like he swallowed a basketball." Marcus is already pulling at my arm. "Come on, you gotta see this."
I don't move. "I'm here with Ivy."
"She can come too, I guess." He says it like he's doing us a favor, and I feel my jaw tighten.
"Actually, we're good here."
Marcus blinks, like he can't comprehend why anyone would turn down the chance to mock former classmates' weight gain. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Huh. Okay, man. Your loss." He wanders off, already laughing at something on his phone.
Ivy's looking at me like I just did something extraordinary. "You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, I did." I set the beer down on the nearest table without drinking it. "Marcus was an asshole in high school and he's an asshole now. I'm not interested in reliving the glory days with him."
"Then why did you come to this thing?"
"I already told you. I came to see you."
She shakes her head, but she's almost smiling. "You're crazy."
"Probably." I spot an empty table near the back of the room. Far enough from the speakers that we might actually be able to hear each other. "Come on. Let's sit down before someone else tries to steal me away to judge people's weight gain."
We claim the table, and I pull out Ivy's chair before sitting across from her. It's a small gesture, something Granddad drilled into me and Levi when we were kids, but Ivy looks at me like I just hung the moon.
Has no one ever pulled out her chair before?
The thought makes me irrationally angry.
"So," I say, trying to focus on something other than the sudden urge to find every man who ever overlooked her and shake them. "On a scale of one to ten, how much are you regretting this decision?"
"To come here?"
"To come here with me after I had a minor emotional breakdown in the bar."
