Page 103 of Within These County Lines

“What?” He wipes sweat from his forehead.

“She said there were tree roots in the pool’s pipes.” I glance at the caution tape. It glows under the strobe lights.

He puts his moist palm over my mouth. “Shhh. I don’t want to talk about that.”

I inhale through my nose, then gently pull his hand away. “You’re right,” I say. “But it’s still a weird coincidence.”

The music slows to a melancholy tune. It’s soft enough to hear the nearby cicada screams.

“First and last slow song of the night, y’all,” the DJ announces. “Time to grab your new summer crush.”

Half the dance floor ceases to exist. Red-faced kids line the edge of the pavilion, whispering and waiting to see who couples up.

Xander squeezes my hand and tugs me forward.

“Wait!” I yell in a hushed whisper. “I can’t slow dance in the center of the crowd. It’s just me, remember?”

He drags his fancy white shoes to a stop. They’re scuffed on the sides from tonight’s heel twists and kicks. “Will you dance with me back here, then?”

“Anywhere except directly in front of the DJ.”

He laughs, then places his hands on my hips. I drape mine around his shoulders and move us to the shadows. We sway between the picnic tables pushed toward the back of the pavilion, while four other couples dance in the front, soaking up the spotlight.

“I like dancing with you,” I say.

He cocks his head, looking down. “Even if no one can see me?”

“If everyone could see you, then I’d have to compete with everyone.”

He grins. “Compete for what?”

My eyes flicker across the pavilion behind him. “Compete to be your dance partner,” I say. “Like, that boy in the black T-shirt has been eyeing you up all night.”

Xander turns and looks at the crowd. A boy in black with bushy eyebrows sits on a picnic table watching us, elbow on his knee.

Xander snorts. “Uhh, Stetson. He can’t see me. So that means he’s eyeing you up. Probably because your arms are around air right now.”

My spine straightens. I release him, then tug on my shirt collar.

“Right, right,” I mutter.

“Are you okay?”

I swallow. “Yeah, I’m just . . . sorry, a little distracted after hearing about the pipes.”

He studies me. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asks. I raise my eyebrows. “Are you not having fun?”

“I am. It’s just one of those things. You know?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know. Tell me.”

He sighs, dipping his shoulders. “After a while, when I’m out, and no one can see me, it’s as if I’m playing pretend. It makes me feel worthless, like a hole in the ground everyone just steps over. I’m there, but I’m really not.” He drags his fingers along my belt.

“Oh.” I frown. “Do you want me to go?”

“No.” He pulls me back to him. “I want us to leave together. To only be with you, so everything is real.” He looks at me with an earnest, puppylike expression, a dog waiting for a treat.

His sweet words tighten my cheeks, as if I’ve swallowed a sour Jolly Rancher. “I can do an after-party. Where to?”