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Caleb nods. “We practice every Sunday.”
I frown. I didn’t realize he played in a band. I literally live next door to him and had no idea.
Sadie leans her folded arms on the window frame. “Do you want a gig?”
Caleb smiles. “We’d love that. What’s it for?”
“The Winter Formal,” she says.
“I’ll have to talk to the guys, but I don’t think they’ll say no,” he replies.
She hops back, “Perfect!” She smacks the car, cringes, and then wipes the spot with her sleeve. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Caleb says.
She finally looks over at me. “I have to run back inside, but I’ll be ready whenever you are.” She runs off.
“You have a band?” I turn to Caleb.
He combs his bangs back with his fingers. “Yup. We've been playing off and on for a while now.”
“Are you guys good?”
“I don’t know. I was hoping you could tell me.”
“What does that mean?”
He unbuckles. “If we go to the Formal together, you’ll have a front row seat.”
I gasp. “Oh, definitely not. Do I look like someone who wears frilly dresses and dances?”
“Maybe.”
I shake my head. “The correct answer is no. I’d rather fall into a patch of poison ivy than wear heels.”
He laughs. “You could wear sweats. I wouldn’t care. You look good in everything you wear.”
I blush, looking away. It can’t be because he thinks I look good. It must be from the embarrassing idea of wearing sweats in a sea of glittery dresses and suits.
“I’m not going,” I say.
He pouts. “You agreed to go on four more dates with me.”
“Dates, not dances.”
“Not even one?” he asks.
“Not even one.”
He sighs. “Okay.” He reaches for the door.
“Whoa, wait,” I say, grabbing his sleeve and tugging him back.
His eyes fall to my hand gripping the fabric of his shirt. He swallows, not saying anything, but slowly lifts his gaze to meet mine. My heart speeds up, and I jerk my hand back, rubbing it on my pants. Why do I keep touching him?
My eyes dart around the car. “I uh—why are you coming inside?”
“Because I’m hungry,” he says. “Besides, you’re going to need a ride home.”
