8. Declan #2
“Oh, right.” I let out a shaky laugh, even as a mortified flush heats the back of my neck.
I hadn’t even considered the fact that Ava would have seen me playing in the marching band.
Wearing that god-awful uniform, and—kill me now—that ridiculous hat with the purple plume sticking out the front.
It’s literally the dorkiest thing someone could wear, and the one person I thought wasn’t looking hard enough to notice apparently was.
I’m both flattered and appalled.
“We do drop some pretty sick beats in drum corp.” The automatic doors slide open, and I lead Ava toward the back of the store where the craft foam is kept.
“Not nearly as often as the lacrosse team drops the ball.” Ava chuckles. “Although if you tell Stasia I said that, I will deny until I die.”
This time my laugh is genuine. “They certainly wouldn’t suffer from a little more practice.” I cut a sideways glance at Ava. “Although Tyler Denning’s not half bad. One might even say he’s good.” Like, really good. The only reason our school’s team has a winning record-level good.
Ava suddenly becomes extremely interested in the clearance display we’re passing. “True.” She grabs an industrial-sized bag of glitter off the rack and holds it up. “We’re definitely going to need this.”
I raise an eyebrow. “For Sally’s daggers?”
She shrugs. “What? It’s good to have options in case anyone wants to get creative with it.”
“Yeah, but I usually prefer options that don’t involve finding sparkles on random parts of my body for the next ten years.” I pluck the bag from her hand and return it to its place. “No glitter.”
Her bottom lip juts out in a pout that has my fingers twitching with the desire to tug on it. Either that or find out firsthand what flavor her lip gloss is. I tear my gaze away and clear my throat, legs propelling me down the aisle through sheer will alone. “Speaking of Tyler…”
“Is Tyler code for glitter? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what we were talking about.
” Ava’s voice is light, but a ripple of tension plays across her profile.
It’s obvious that, for whatever reason, she doesn’t want to talk about him, but I can’t seem to help myself.
Some part of me needs to know if they’re together.
Not that it changes anything—the idea of being friends with Ava is scary enough.
There’s no way I’m letting myself slip into anything deeper. Not again.
Still. For sanity’s sake. “Before the glitter, smartypants.”
“Oh, right. That.” As if she only just remembered. Ha. “What about him?”
Crap. What do I want to ask her about him? Are you two dating? Do you like him? I can’t ask that without looking jealous. Are you going to prom together? Prom—yes! That’s it.
I shrug. “I heard he was planning to ask you to prom, and seeing as it’s the same day as the workshop, I just wanted to make sure you were good to do both. I know what a big deal it can be and all.”
Ava lets out a wry chuckle. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
I raise an eyebrow, thoroughly confused.
She shakes her head. “Sorry. To answer your question, yes.”
“Yes, you’re…?”
“Good to do both.”
I nod as if this is exactly the information I was looking for. “Shiny.” And then, since I’ve apparently lost all control of my tongue, “So you’re going? To prom?”
The tips of her ears turn pink, and she slips her hands into the back pockets of her jeans with a little shrug that isn’t at all cute, and I am definitely not noticing her every move.
“Probably, I guess. I know Stasia wants me to, and my mom is chomping at the bit to take photos of me in an evening gown. We’re supposed to go dress shopping later today, actually.
Which seems a little silly seeing as I don’t even have a date, but whatever. It makes her happy.”
My heart kicks into overdrive, my brain fixating on those six words she oh-so-casually slipped in. I don’t even have a date. Fortunately, she continues before I can do something irrevocably horrifying like throwing myself at her feet and offering myself up as tribute.
“What about you? Are you going?”
I blink, brain still spiraling off-kilter. “Am I going to what?”
She lets out a breathy laugh which does nothing to help my focus. “To prom.”
“Oh. Yeah, no. I don’t see that happening.
” I mock shudder, my face twisting into a grimace.
“Besides, I’ll probably be at the con all day.
Jenni Messenger is going to be there with the cast from Magic and Moonshine, and there’s no way I’m missing that panel.
” Not to mention, I’ve been working on a replica of her character’s magic staff, one that I’m planning to give her during the panel’s Q&A.
Assuming I work up the necessary courage.
Ava stops dead in her tracks, and I have to slide in front of her to keep from blocking the walkway from other shoppers. Her mouth falls open as she gapes up at me. “You’re joking. Jenni Messenger is going to be at OA Con? Jenni freaking Messenger?”
“Not sure that’s her legal name, but yeah. She’s on a Saturday afternoon panel.”
“Oh my God, I love her,” Ava squeals, her entire face lit up as she bounces on the toes of her pink-and-black sneakers. “She does the voices for literally all of my favorite characters.”
Her excitement is infectious, and I find myself grinning. “Jenni is a serious boss, that’s for sure.”
Ava shakes her head in disbelief. “And to think I could be in the same room as her. Breathing the same air. Stupid prom.”
I stuff my hands in my pockets, gaze flicking off to the side. “You could always skip it. Despite what others would have you believe, attending prom isn’t required for graduation.”
“Ugh, don’t tempt me. My mom would die if I blew off prom for an anime convention.” She starts walking again, but there’s a wistfulness in her eyes that makes me want to draw her off to the side and wrap my arms around her.
“It’d be fun, though, wouldn’t it?” she says, that same yearning edging her voice. “Ditching prom and seeing Jenni Messenger together.”
My throat tightens at the visual. “Going broke in the vendor hall.”
“Loading up on pizza and Pocky afterward,” she adds, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “And binge-watching Yona of the Dawn.”
I swallow and look away. The picture she’s painting too bright for my shadow-heavy heart to bear. I nod toward the upcoming aisle. “Foam’s down here.” I turn without another word, leaving the bitter ache of longing for something I can’t have behind.
I’m over that.
I stop in front of the shelves packed with multi-colored foam, eyes staring blankly while Ava stands silently beside me.
Her breath soft and fast. Lip pinned in her teeth.
That faintly sweet orange and honey scent drifts enticingly from her loose, blonde waves, begging me to lean closer.
My hands flex, and I fill them with foam sheets before they do something crazy, like tangle in her hair and tip back her chin and…
Yeah.
I am so clearly over it all.