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I had planned on it. The DJ would play Jason Mraz’s “I Won’t Give Up,” and I was going to ask her to dance. As we moved smoothly along the dance floor—hey, my fantasy meant that I didn’t have two left feet—I was going to confess that I had liked her for a long time. That I more than liked her. But when we’d actually shown up to the dance, she’d been surrounded by friends, by strangers. Everyone wanted her autograph. Everyone wanted to be close to her. And my plan seemed…pointless.
“He was so upset when he got home,” Mom concludes with a sad pout. “He must have moped around here all summer.”
Mia’s chocolate brown eyes stare at me like I’m a stranger. I try to laugh it off, but my laugh comes out rusty and awkward.
“Ah, high school. Good thing we’re not still raging messes of hormones. Hey, Dad, how’s work?”
Dad must understand what I’m trying to do, because despite not being much of a talker, he launches into a twenty-minute conversation about supply ordering before shifting the conversation to a different topic.
We make our excuses to leave a little while later. Mia hasn’t said anything else to me since my mom’s Embarrass Garrett 101 conversation, but her attention hasn’t strayed far. Even in the dark car, I can feel the heat of her gaze on me and am thankful for the only light being from the dashboard.
“Was what your mom said true?” she asks, finally breaking the silence.
I groan and tighten my grip on the steering wheel. “Ames—”
“We all have crushes, Garrett.”
“I’m sure your mom never talked about yours in embarrassingly vivid detail.” How the hell did she know all that? I hadn’t told anyone.
“No,” she says, and I can hear the amusement in her voice. “She definitely never did that.”
“See?”
I love my mom. I do. But god, she has a big mouth.
“Otherwise, my mom would have told you,” she says quietly.
I turn to stare at her, yanking the wheel with my movement. She laughs and points to the windshield.
“Watch the road.”
Coasting over to the curb, I put the car in park and stare at her profile.
“What did you say?” I ask, my chest heaving as I try to process what I think I heard.
Her gaze flicks to me before she fidgets with her fingers in her lap.
“I—I had a crush on you in high school,” she mumbles.
“You did?”
She looks at me and nods. “I did. I thought you knew.”
“I had no idea,” I admit.
“Are boys actually that oblivious?” she asks. “I nearly kissed you!”
I shuffle through my memories from high school and come up empty. “When?”
“The homecoming bonfire.”
“Sophomore year?” I ask.
She’d been nervous after my dad had dropped us off, and when I’d asked her why, she’d blamed it on the upcoming musical auditions.
“Yeah. We were walking close to the bleachers, and I stopped you.”
She’d stopped walking and stared at me. After a deep breath, she’d opened her mouth, but the fire popped loudly, startling her.
