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It takes everything in me to hold it together. The urge to burst into tears is strong, but it’s nowhere near as powerful as my desire to bolt out of here.

I want to go home. No, I want to go back to the rink. At least there, I can lose myself in the repetition—the jumps, the spins, the endless laps and clean landings until my legs burn and my head clears.

Michael still hasn’t told me about the kiss. The kiss that, according to Cade, really did happen right before he left the party.

So why am I surprised Michael didn’t tell me he asked Sienna to the ball?

He probably doesn’t want me to know.

No, he probably doesn’t think it matters.

Because by the way he’s been acting, I no longer matter to him. Not enough to know about these things, at least.

I swallow hard against the bile rising in my throat and somehow manage a smile that feels like it might crack my face.

“I’m happy for you,” I say, voice miraculously steady. “I’m sure you’ll make a really cute couple.”

She throws her arms around me, pulling me in for a hug. Her caramel scent is even stronger than usual.

I hold my breath, afraid that, between her scent and the way my stomach is roiling, I might actually throw up.

“Thank you so much,” she whispers. Then, she leans back. “I hope this doesn’t make things awkward for you.”

“Everything’s fine.”

As her smile brightens, the bell rings. She stands and looks down at me. “I better hurry. I don’t want to be late for History.”

“Have fun.”

With a wave, she walks off, her ponytail swinging with every step. I sit on the floor, numb to all sensation except the despair growing in my chest.

That conversation created another positive to add to my pros and cons list—the things that will impact my decision about whether to follow Elena to Boston. It hurts, knowing the list of pros is growing exponentially thanks to the last person I’d expect.

Thanks to Michael.

My mood is awful as Cade and I head toward our lockers after English class. I can’t wait to finally leave this place. Ms. Roberts spent the last ten minutes of class talking about the Harvest Ball, making my already crappy day even worse. My palms still hurt from how hard I dug my fingernails into my skin while listening to her.

“What do you think about Harvest Ball?” Cade asks.

Jaw clenched, I shrug. “It’s great that the school board organizes so many events.”

He chuckles low, one side of his lips kicking up in a smile. “That’s not what I meant, but I agree with you. They’ve all been great.”

Dread swirls in my stomach, but I force myself to continue the conversation. “What did you mean then?”

“I know you don’t usually go to dances, but I was wondering if I could convince you to go to this one.”

“I don’t go because I have two practices a day, six days a week. By the time I’m done, I’m usually too tired to do anything but go to bed or do homework.”

“I get that,” he says. “But maybe just this once? I can promise you a good time.” With a smile, he waggles his brows. “You know I’m fun, and we always have a good laugh. I’ll make sure you won’t regret it.”

My heart lodges itself in my throat. “Cade…”

“Come with me to the dance,” he says sincerely. “We’ll have a fucking blast.”

I snort, even as a dull pain radiates through me. How do I tell him the only person I want to go to the dance with is Michael? Without him, there’s no point.

Gently, Cade takes my hand. “Please, Isla. We can go as friends. I’m not trying to make it weird, I promise.”