“Where’s Con?” she asks.
“Getting some punch. Although I sort of hope he’s decided to bail on me, because then I can leave.”
She shakes her head. “For a photographer, you sure hate events.”
Connor returns with two cups of punch, catching the last bit of our conversation. “Maybe next year they’ll give you a photo booth gig, make you official.” He waggles his brows as if to entice me.
“I won’t be here next year,” I remind him. “I’m graduating.”
“Oh right. Shit. And then you’ll go to college.” He dons a glum look. “I don’t want you to go. We like you. Right, Jazzy?”
“Uh-huh. But not as much as we like Bo,” she chirps, before darting back to her date.
I accept the plastic cup Connor hands me and take a quick sip. In my peripheral vision, I glimpse a flash of movement, and my heart squeezes when I see Everett approaching. He outdoes Bo in the suit department, his jacket stretching across his big shoulders, the trousers hugging his long legs.
“Hey,” he says when he reaches us. “Con, let me talk to Ryan alone for a sec.”
I want to object, but my cousin must think we’re on the football field, because he instantly obeys his quarterback’s orders, nodding and walking away.
“You look gorgeous,” Everett tells me.
“Thanks.”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Can we talk?”
“Everett—”
“Listen, I’ve been doing the whole friendship thing like you asked,” he cuts in, letting out a frustrated breath. “But even as friends you barely talk to me. And it feels like you didn’t give me a chance. One day we’re fine, the next you’re acting like you can’t stand being around me.”
“It’s not that,” I say, shifting uncomfortably. “Things just…changed.”
He slants his head, looking at me as if trying to solve a puzzle. “Did they change, or did I miss something?”
I feel curious eyes boring into me. Everett draws attention no matter where he is. One of those stares belongs to Sofia, and the daggers she’s glaring at me have me stifling a sigh.
“Let’s not do this here,” I finally say. “It’s not the time.”
“It’s never the time with you.”
I open my mouth to respond, but I can’t find the right words. It isn’t Everett’s fault that there’s this whole side of me he’ll never understand. He deserves an answer. But the truth? That’s something I can never give him.
I watch him stalk off, feeling the familiar pang of guilt that only compounds when another face snags my attention.
Nikki, standing near the punch table with a few other cheerleaders. She thinks she’s being discreet as she angles her body and pours something into her cup from a silver flask, but she’s not exactly a covert operative. When she catches my eye, the edges of her lips curl into a smug, unbothered grin. Her hazy eyes tell me she’s already buzzed, and the dance has barely gotten started.
I shake my head and look away. My heart skips a beat when I notice Chase entering the gym. He’s wearing jeans, a blue button-down shirt, and black combat boots, not exactly dance attire, but somehow he pulls it off.
He scans the room until his gaze finally lands on me. For a second, it feels like we’re the only two people here.
Before I can react, he sidles up to me, standing close enough that our hands brush. The contact is so slight, so minuscule, but it sends an electric current through me. Another burst of guilt follows right on its heels.
“What are you doing here?” I ask him. “You don’t do dances, remember?”
“You can’t randomly text me you’re going to the dance and not expect me to show up.”
“Why?”
His lips twitch as if he’s fighting a grin. “I was dying to see you in a pink dress.”
