“I’m not here with anyone, just snuck in to see the band,” I said. Her eyes got round. Had I made the wrong call? She leaned toward me.
“Then why are you staring into the vending machine?” she whispered. “Especially this one—seriously, who would actively choose papaya fruit leather over peanut M&Ms?”
I laughed. “Well, I kind of got hassled at the door, so I’m, um, flying under the radar.”
“C’mon.” She motioned for me to follow her. I looked down, careful not to step on the back of her dress. We walked up to the table. The girl in the black dress handed Madison a camera on a long strap. Ah, the other Thursday Girl from yoga.
“Thanks for watching it,” Madison said as she put the camera over her head. “Look who I found wandering around the cafeteria.”
“Hey, Mugshot,” the girl said.
“It’s Jesse,” I said.
“Wren,” she said, smiling. “Your friend just wandered through here a little while ago.”
“Really? No one hassled him?”
“Not that I saw.”
“Where’s the ball-and-chain? He bailed on cupcake detail already?” Madison asked her, fiddling with the camera and pointing it at Wren.
Wren put her hand over her face and waved the camera away. “The band played some Nirvana song he wanted to check out. No reason the two of us should miss out. If you see him, tell him my shift is done in about ten minutes.”
“I’m off to be roving photographer—don’t forget we need to get a picture of the three of us later,” Madison said, sneaking in a few fast clicks of Wren, who finally smiled for the camera. The three of us? She tugged my sleeve again and I followed her through the side doors of the cafeteria and right into . . . Legs. Who immediately recognized me.
“I thought I told you—”
Madison grabbed my arm. “Ava, he’s with me.”
Legs/Ava blinked fast a few times and looked between us. Madison moved even closer to me.
“Wait, I thought you were with Zach O’Keefe.”
“I am, and I’m also with Jess. It’s ladies’ choice, right? I can have two dates, there’s no weird Sadie Hawkins bylaw I’m not aware of, is there?”
This stunned her speechless.
“Ava, come on, stop being a dance Nazi. It’s a success. Enjoy it,” Madison said, pulling me along. “And Wren wants to dance with her boyfriend, no one cares about cupcakes!”
Ava opened her mouth to say something but then just shook her head and almost, almost smiled before walking into the cafeteria. Did that mean . . . ? I was in the clear. Madison held on to my hand, leading me down a narrow, darkened hallway toward the pounding thrum of the band. People were coming and going, like an ant tunnel, but she held on to me, looking over her shoulder once and saying something I couldn’t hear. It was hot and loud; I gripped her hand a little tighter. We finally made it to a door that opened to the gym.
The gym floor was thick with people in front of the stage dancing to a craptastic version of “What I Like About You.” Kenny was breathless as he sang—probably from jumping around the stage like an idiot. We wove our way through the mob, stage lights flashing red and green and purple over the crowd. Madison stopped to chat with a few people, then held the camera in one hand over the mass of heads and started snapping random pictures. The flash made my vision spotty. We made it to the far wall, where she finally let go of my hand.
“So are they friends of yours?” she yelled, gesturing to the band and rocking a little to the beat.
“Not really—that’s our old drummer. Just checking out the competition,” I yelled back. She nodded. The gym was less crowded than it appeared from up front. Most of the people were toward the stage, with a few stragglers hanging around the perimeter of the room. Tanner was still MIA. I checked my phone. Nothing.
“Hey, I’m going to find my date. You okay?” Madison asked.
I wouldn’t have minded hanging out with her some more, but yelling at each other over the music wasn’t exactly the perfect situation to get to know someone. Oh yeah, and the fact that she was here with someone made the whole thing a bit inconvenient.
“Yeah, thanks for helping me.”
“You still owe me that chai.” She waved as she walked off into the crowd. What guy would be idiot enough to let her out of his sight at a dance?
I leaned against the wall and finally spotted Tanner. He was dancing with Tori Ashe and her friends. I guess he threw the lying-low plan out the window. I laughed. He looked a little spastic, but it worked for him. I’d forgotten that Kenny’s sister went to Sacred Heart, which probably helped with them getting the gig. One thing Kenny had was connections. I tried to be objective—just a dude listening to a band. They weren’t that bad and the crowd seemed to like them.
Then I saw her.
Hannah. She was in a dark dress, hair down, and moving to the music, her face lit up red. Green. Purple. I hadn’t thought about seeing her or if the band could bring dates. Anytime I thought I was over it, that she hadn’t crossed my mind in a few hours—zap. This awful jolt Tased me. Maybe it hurt a little less.
Or not.
I fiddled absentmindedly with the infinity band—okay, bracelet—that I still wore . . . for her. For us. Hoping.
“Come on, Jess, just get them. One for me, one for you,” she’d said. We’d been walking around the street fair for a while, browsing the table of, like, the tenth jewelry vendor we’d seen.
“Guys don’t wear bracelets,” I’d said, even though I knew I was going to cave.
“What’s that big-ass ugly thing you’ve already got on?”
“That’s a wristband. There’s a difference.”
“So call it a wristband—pretty please, sugar on top, and all that stuff.”
The look in her eyes was worth the forty bucks. Worth a million.
I hadn’t taken it off since that day. Even at my worst moments, when I hated HannahDunk more than I thought I could hate anything, it was still on my wrist. I tugged at it and looked away.
The band finished the song with a crash. Kenny breathed into the mic—Back in ten!—and the guys walked off. I sent Tanner a text where to find me; I didn’t want to walk over there to his dance circle. I’d seen enough. We could pick the shittiest drummer and still be better than Smegma. Booming dance music blared out of the speakers and the crowd swelled as some rapper sang about talking dirty. My head pounded with the beat. My jacket felt tight. The edges of the room blurred. Madison was suddenly in front of me.
“Couldn’t find him,” she said. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yeah, fine. I just hate this music.”
“I know, right?”
“Mads! I’m free!” Wren scurried across the dance floor to us. “Where’s Jazz? I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
Madison shrugged.
“Duuuuude, did you get a load of . . . Hey, Thursday Girls,” Tanner said, joining us. His stunt on the dance floor must have given him some swagger because I’d never seen him so laid-back in front of these girls. “So what’d you think, they suck, right?”
“Pretty much,” I said.
“Who, the band?” Wren asked.
“Yeah,” T said.
A tall guy crept up behind Wren, putting his finger to his lips. Madison pretended not to notice him. Wren jumped as he wrapped his arms around her, then laughed. The “ball-and-chain” . . . Wait. He looked at me.
“Grayson?”
“No effing way,” Tanner said, realizing his number-one drummer choice was wrapped around the girl he’d drooled over for a month.
“Hey, how do you know—” Grayson said.
“Jess works at Mugshot, we go there after yoga.” Madison motioned back and forth between us.
The five of us stood there, kind of nodding to the overpowering beat and just looking at one another, searching for something to talk about. I knew what was coming, could feel the subject swirling there in the center of us, building up energy. Grayson spoke first.
<
br /> “So did you ever, um, you know, find anyone?” His eyes darted from me to Tanner.
Grayson was not my first choice; the other dude, Plasma’s old drummer, was technically better and more experienced. Tanner, on the other hand, thought he’d want to come in and take over, whereas Grayson would be a better fit for us. We were at a stalemate, but standing there, having Grayson ask me point-blank, my gut told me a different story. It craved action. Forward motion. I looked at Tanner.
“Um, yeah, you, well . . . you saved us a phone call,” I said.
“What?”
“Can you practice with us tomorrow?” I asked.
“Yeah, definitely.”
“What do you think?” I asked Tanner.
“Great.”
“So you can vouch for this guy,” I said to Madison.
“Me? Um, I guess he’s all right. His car is awful, though.”
“Thanks, Mads,” Grayson said, grinning.
I looked at Grayson. “Guess you’re in.”
“The band for this sort of sucks, don’t they?” he said.
“Yeah.” I already liked him. This was the right decision. He gave us each an enthusiastic handshake to seal the deal.
The music changed to a slower groove. The crowd split apart, some people pairing off like magnets, a few leaving the floor or awkwardly standing there. Madison searched the dance floor, looking for her idiot date no doubt. She fumbled with the camera.
“No more interviews or cookies, right? We can dance?” Grayson asked, holding out his hand to Wren. She grinned, took his hand, and it was like they were already dancing. He brought his forehead down to hers, her hands clasped behind his neck, up into his hair as they curled into each other, eyes open.
“Sickening, isn’t it?” Madison said, tilting her chin toward Grayson and Wren. She said it with a smile, like she didn’t really think it was sickening at all but felt like she needed to say something since we were just there gawking at them. They kissed. She walked out to the center of the floor and took some snapshots of them. I looked away.
Bam.
Duncan and Hannah swayed into my view. They weren’t pressed together like Grayson and Wren, but their arms were around each other and Duncan was talking, a smile on his face. Hannah leaned into him and whispered something in his ear. He laughed and then brought her in closer. She put her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. I could not look away. There was no jolt this time. More like an empty ache, pressure, like someone was slowly pushing the air out of my lungs. They were happy. They didn’t even know or care if I was there. Their relationship had nothing—nothing—to do with me.
Madison walked back over to me.
“I think we should go,” Tanner said.
“You’re leaving already?” Madison asked.
A chestnut husk stuck in my throat; the room was hot again.
“Yeah, we’ve seen enough, right, T?”
“Yep.”
“Well if you need to sneak into Sacred Heart anytime, I’m your girl,” she said.
I pushed open the side door, and a cold gust shot in. Madison shivered.
“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”
We walked out into the night, silent as we went back to the car. My ears still thrummed with the sound of the gym, my mind still numb from the reality of what I’d seen. I yanked off the infinity bracelet, stopped short of tossing it to the curb, and shoved it into my pocket. No more pining, for fuck’s sake.
“You’re okay we went with Grayson?” I asked Tanner.
He nodded. “Why, because he’s with Thursday Girl? We have a drummer. I’m on top of the world.”
“Because if you had a problem with it, we could—”
“I like the dude, Jess. He’s a good fit. Plenty of fish in the sea. Did you see me dancing with Tori Ashe?”
I laughed. “Yep, but isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
“Or sleeping with the enemy. That sounds hotter. What changed your mind about Grayson?” he asked as we reached the VW.
“Dunno. Game-time decision, I guess.”
“So it had nothing to do with him being six degrees of separation from the little blonde?”
“Nah.”
We got into the car and sat a moment while it warmed up. Was Madison the reason I suddenly thought Grayson was a good match? Of course not—he was good, and we’d grow as a band, on common ground. I knew that’s why T wanted him—the other guy was too good, as ridiculous as it sounded. There was something I had to admit, though.
“I mean, it wouldn’t suck if she came to see us.”
Tanner smiled and looked out the passenger’s-side window. “I knew it.”
SEVEN
MADISON
“I’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND, THANKS,” JESSE SAID before exiting.
I crossed my arms for warmth, watching him leave after his friend. I had the weird urge to follow and see what Broody Barista did in his free time. Running into him had been such an unexpected surprise in an otherwise meh kind of a night. The door closed with a clunk. I walked over to it, running my hand along the cold push bar—one swift motion and I’d be out. Not that I really wanted to leave—the night had barely started. And this dress was far too fabulous to just roam the streets in, plus I still hadn’t gotten any decent photos or slow-danced with Zach.
Why was I making a list of reasons to stay at the dance?
School dances always sounded better than they actually were. Why not call it what it really was: Friday night all dressed up trying to be something it wasn’t. No matter how much balloon art filled the gym, it still boiled down to a room with blue padded walls, retracted basketball hoops, and the faint smell of rubber and Simple Green where we’d be slapping around a hockey puck in class on Monday. Seeing it as a romantic place was hard, even with the mood lighting.
Except watching Wren and Grayson—the building could have come crashing down around them and I doubt they’d have noticed. They really were that sickening couple— annoying and sweet and in their own world. I took a few pictures of them, then wandered deeper into the crowd, ignoring the disappointment that threatened to bring down my already precarious good mood. There was nothing that sucked more than searching for your date during a John Legend song. Where was Zach?
I made my way to the front of the gym to see if there were any interesting shots—I’d been wary of the dance assignment at first but realized it could be a great opportunity to build my portfolio. Photography was not my thing but my art teacher had said a diverse portfolio showed that you weren’t afraid to take risks. That what these art programs wanted to see most was your potential.
Earlier in the year, I’d taken some artsy shots between the spokes of a Ferris wheel at the Sacred Heart Founders Festival that had won a ribbon in the fall art show. Granted, there wasn’t much competition. I looked around for something out of the ordinary, anything I could see with a different perspective. As I brought the camera up to my face, Zach’s grin appeared in the frame.
“Where have you been?” he asked, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the dance floor.
“Zach,” I said, taking quick little steps to keep up with him. “Slow down.”
I adjusted the strap so the camera was to my back, like a purse—it had really become the clunkiest of accessories. We found an empty space in the center of the gym. He drew me close, hands sliding up my arms, his fingers tracing my shoulders and trailing down my bare back. I clasped my hands behind his neck, keeping my eyes on his.
“Where was I? Where were you?”
He leaned down.
“Let’s just dance,” he whispered, lips brushing my ear. My breath stopped. Maybe I was too quick to dismiss the dance, because his mouth on my skin made me forget we were even on planet Earth. I snuggled into him as he caressed my back and we swayed to the music.
For all of ten seconds.
Until the beat got fast, and Pitbull echoed through the gym, sending up some loud whoops as the crowd got crazy again.
A few of the teacher chaperones darted onto the dance floor as a precaution. Sacred Heart was a no-grinding zone—but it didn’t stop people from trying. Zach lifted his arms up in the air and rocked his hips, with the sort of fearlessness that canceled out the goofy moves. He moved closer to me, so serious I had to laugh. I wondered if he’d practiced in a mirror.
“C’mon,” he said.
He screwed up his face like he was in pain and continued to dance around me. I finally relented until Miss Preston, the driver’s-ed teacher, gave us an I’m watching you glare and we parted. I took the moment to search the floor for Jazz or Wren but it was impossible to see anyone through the thick mass of bodies.
“I need some air,” I yelled at Zach, and pointed out to the hallway. He led the way toward the door. Once outside the gym I felt cooler. Zach draped his arm over my shoulders as we walked down the hall.
“Have I told you how smokin’ you look?”
“Yes, twice, but you can keep telling me.” I snaked my arm around his and leaned into him.
“We should do something after this,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Your couch, maybe?”
“This is not a couch dress.”
“Who said you had to be wearing it?” He nuzzled my hair.
I stopped short. “Zach, really?”
“What?”
His brow bunched up in confusion. I wasn’t sure why what he’d said bothered me. Zach’s pervy side normally made me swoony, especially the thought of being skin to skin. Somehow, in the hallway of school, it pissed me off. Maybe it was from watching Wren and Gray slow-dance and realizing that it might not be so bad to have a main squeeze I kind of adored. Someone who would seek me out during a slow song instead of grinding against my leg. Not that that wasn’t fun. Why wasn’t spending time with me in the dress enough for him? Couldn’t he think of anything else for a moment? He brushed some hair away from my face.
The Secrets of Attraction Page 8
