“There’s Jamie,” Nellie murmured, jutting her chin out. “By the punch.”
I followed her gaze, but I wasn’t prepared for the pain to twist in my chest at the sight of him.
Jamie stood by a small snack table beside Raelynn, who spoke animatedly to him. His hair was tousled as if he’d pulled his fingers through it. Jamie hardly ever wore a suit jacket—in fact, it usually was the first thing to go when he got to ADP events, right before his tie—but he had one on now. It was a deep olive green, lightweight, a shade lighter than his pants. The top button on his jacket was fastened with the bottom undone, and his dark brown tie that matched the color of his hair was a bit too loose around his neck. At least this time it wasn’t knotted like a leash.
I drew in a shaky breath, feeling something in my chest tug.
And when Jamie looked over, eyes finding me, I stopped breathing entirely.
With the ballroom stretching between us, Jamie’s eyes worked over me—slowly. I allowed myself to pretend he was drinking in every inch of me, committing me to memory. I could imagine what he saw: the pale pink dress that was probably supposed to fall above my knees, but since I was so short, the hemline came just underneath. My red curls spilled over my shoulders, styled similarly to Nellie’s, only my hair was a little longer. Jamie’s eyes on me, an almost physical pressure I could feel despite the distance.
He looks at you like he wants to write about you.
I pretended, for one last time, that it was true.
After murmuring something, Jamie stepped away fromRaelynn, crossing the ballroom with his sights set on me. My pulse mirrored every step he took, thudding harder and harder the closer he got.
I can do this, I thought to myself, a new comforting mantra.I can do this.
Jamie stopped a foot from us, but now that he was closer, he only looked at his sister. “Where’s Beck?”
“Parking the car.” Nellie lowered her voice. “I’ve filled Daisy in.”
Right, filled me in on just how our breakup would go down. Jamie nodded, reaching up and scratching the top of his shoulder through his suit jacket. “It’d be too obvious to go now,” Jamie murmured. “Too soon. We should dance first.”
“Dance?” I’d never danced at one of the Alderton-Du Ponte events. Dancing here wasvastlydifferent than dancing at the club in Bayview. Far more awkward. “Oh, I-I’m good?—”
Jamie swept up my hand, though.
The Alderton-Du Ponte ballroom looked different from the center, directly underneath the glistening chandelier. I shuffled awkwardly in my heels as Jamie led me out, looking a little stiff himself. We nestled into a pocket of space between Mr. and Mrs. Flannagan and Ms. Jennings dancing with someone else’s husband. When she caught a glimpse of us, Ms. Jennings shot me a discreet grin.
I turned back to Jamie, uneasy. “I’ve never danced like this before in my life.”
“Me either.” Jamie’s left hand curved along my right,our palms slipping together in a way that sent a tingle down my arm. His right arm curved around me, palm pressing into the middle of my back, pressing me against him. “But we’ve got this.”
We’ve got this. Words we’d said to each other at the start of the whole fake relationship. It was somewhat fitting to say them at the end.
Jamie held me so easily, moving without hesitation, knowing his way around me as if he’d done it a million times. Or as if he’d thought about doing it a million times.
Stop, I scolded my thoughts. “Your tie is too loose,” I blurted, my left hand lifting to rest on Jamie’s shoulder.
“You’re not going to fix it this time?”
He was talking about Senior Night, when I’d grabbed him by the neck and had held him still. Back then, I’d noticed the serious way he’d stared me down, but had thought nothing of it. Now, the memory made a shiver slip down my spine. “You can tie a tie yourself.”
“Apparently I cannot.”
The jazz music was a bit more audible from where we danced, closer to the middle of the dance floor, away from the majority of the chatter. There were a few other couples dancing, but I let my eyes slip closed, pretending, just for a moment, it was the two of us. That it was real.
I wanted to tell Jamie that I’d gotten into NYU, but I couldn’t get my lips to part. Despite the fact that we were chest to chest, it felt like a chasm existed between us now, dark and deep and too scary to cross.
Jamie readjusted his hold on me, shifting his head forward, his lips closer to my ear. “Did you see Dalton?”
“He’s here?” I asked, barely interested.
“I saw him earlier.” Jamie’s hand shifted along my spine, the dress a thin barrier. “Have you talked to him since Wednesday?”
“No.” This time, I pulled back enough to look Jamie in the eye. “I’m done with him.”
