Chapter 30 #2
“Okay.” His tone is easy and nonjudgmental. “If I’d known there was any . . . complication, I wouldn’t have pushed for this
cover story.”
“There’s no complication.”
“All right, cool,” he says. “Then if there’s no complication, want to dance with me?”
“Yes,” I say. Because I do. I want to feel his hands on my hips again, I want him to pull me close, I want all of that again, and more.
The music is loud, a ton of other people are dancing over by the projector screen, and the lights are low.
We can go into the middle of the crowd and we can disappear.
At this moment, I give in. I give in completely, and without reservation.
For the first time, I don’t chide myself, I don’t force myself to remember how it ended between us when we were kids.
The truth is—the truth has always been—there is nothing I would rather do.
Because it’s always been Luke. Since I was eight years old, it’s been him.
Luke takes my hand and pulls me toward the other side of the basement, where the unofficial dance party has started. Evie’s
standing on one of the couches, jumping up and down with Dylan, belting out the words to the song. Jaxon Gentry and Arden
Diaz are in the far corner, making out. Once we’re in the middle of the throng of dancers, Luke pulls me close and starts
to move. Our bodies touch in a dozen little places. He’s tall, but not so tall that I can’t put my arms comfortably around
his neck. He puts his hands right above the curve of my hips and pulls me even closer. After a moment of dancing like this,
he leans down and into my ear he breathes, “I can’t focus on anything except for you in this dress.”
Goose bumps erupt on my arms. I look up at him. Even with his ridiculous mask on, in the dim lights of the basement, I would
know those light brown eyes anywhere. He looks back at me.
And I know, without a doubt, that he’s about to kiss me. For real this time.
Or at least he was. Because something about his movement, something about the way he tries to push his mask up to readjust it, must put too much pressure on the cheap, gossamer-thin elastic thread that’s holding it to his face.
“Shit.” He scrambles to try to catch the mask, but it falls to the floor. My pulse surges. It’s dark and crowded, so no one
has noticed yet. He needs to get it and hold it to his face. Then we can go to the bathroom and tie it back on.
But that’s not what happens.
He bends down to grab it right as a girl—a junior, I can’t remember her name—takes a step back. I watch in horror as the stacked
heel of her shoe lands directly in the middle of the mask. It landed wolf face up, so her heel puts pressure on the curve
of the cheap plastic, and it cracks in half. It never even stood a chance.
Now it’s my turn to swear. I grab Luke’s hand. Maybe if we can get upstairs, we can get Eddie’s Jason mask, and people won’t
notice . . .
But as I’m pulling him toward the stairs, trying to maneuver through the crowded basement, I hear someone say, “Is that Lucas
Cordova?”
And it’s like a tremor, or a wave, goes through the party. People start turning, murmuring. There’s a flash of camera light;
I don’t know if someone took a picture or just turned on their flashlight to get a better look. We’re still a good ten paces
from the stairs when Evie suddenly appears at my side. Her eyes are wide, and her teased-up hair is now leaning to the left.
“What happened?”
“His mask broke!” I look up at Luke. “What do you want to do?”
“If you want to stay, we can stay,” he says. “I don’t care. Secret’s out now, right?”
But the thought of staying here—the entire party will probably reorient itself around Luke’s attendance, people will ask questions
about how we know each other (Really, Claire? Chess team?), the way we were dancing—it’s too much. There are going to be too many questions. This was such a stupid idea. We put way
too much faith in the cheap plastic band of a Spirit Halloween mask.
Maybe Luke sees the anxiety roiling inside me, because he squeezes my hand (I didn’t even realize we were still holding hands)
and says, “On second thought, why don’t we get out of here?”
I nod gratefully, then turn to Evie. “Do you mind?”
She doesn’t say anything, she just marches toward the stairs to help clear a path for us. From behind, her hair is leaning
even more aggressively to the side than I first thought. I love her so much.
Once we get to the stairs, she kisses my cheek and says, “Off you go!”
With a final glance over my shoulder—people are watching—Luke and I dash up the stairs and out of the party.
Outside, it’s drizzling, in a misty way. It’s late, and the rain must have driven most of the trick-or-treaters home, because we’re the only ones out here. The air is thick with moisture, giving a foggy, spooky vibe to the otherwise dark street.
“What now?” Luke asks me.
Eddie’s house casts enough light for me to make out his features. His hood is down now, and his hair is slightly mussed, and
his cheeks look flushed from being down in Eddie’s crowded basement. I bet if I touched his face it would feel warm. The idea
of touching his face, pulling him toward me, is the only thing I can think about. “The air feels good. Want to walk a little?”
“Sure. You’re the boss.”
We’ve only made our way down half a winding street in Eddie’s quiet, tree-lined neighborhood when the rain starts coming down
more aggressively.
“My mom is going to kill me if I ruin this,” I say, looking down at my dress.
“We could go to my house. It isn’t far. If we hurry, I bet we can beat the rain.”
I know right where Luke’s house is. It’ll probably take us ten minutes to get there, and I can tell by the speed of the rain
that it’s going to pick up soon. We’re going to get drenched.
But it’s only water, right? And even if Mom is a little mad . . . it’ll be worth it.
“Then what are we waiting for?” I ask.
His breathing hitches, almost imperceptibly.
It’s like he’s relieved that I said yes.
Like he wanted me to want to come to his house as much as I want to.
His empty house. That he rents, alone. Without parents to ask what we’re doing there, how was our night, or to say hey, if you’re going upstairs together, make sure to leave your door open.
He takes my hand again and says, “I’ll do my best to keep up. You’re the track star, after all.”