27 MADDY
MADDY
Why do school dances always have to have some turn of events?
The school barely looks like itself. String lights wrapped around the pillars near the entrance.
Music is already drifting from inside—some upbeat pop song pulsing through the open doors.
There are balloons in navy and silver, a glittering banner reading Baylin Campus Annual Dance stretched across the entrance.
It’s cheesy. But kind of perfect.
Students in every direction look like versions of themselves from an alternate universe. The girls in long, flowy dresses or high heels, the guys tugging awkwardly at their collars or trying to keep their hair in place. It feels like we’d all stepped into a movie scene.
The engine barely shuts off before everyone’s already moving. Doors open, voices overlap, heels hit the pavement. Ryan steps out first. And—ughh. Why does he have to look so hot?
His blazer is still open, the top buttons of his shirt undone. His brown curls are still slightly messy—which, honestly, looks a lot better than whatever Kiara tried to do to them earlier—and it suits him in an annoyingly effortless way.
My entire body reacts at the sight of him.
Ahem—focus on the dance Maddy.
Ryan turns back toward the car, holding out a hand to help me. “Careful,” he says.
I take it. The moment I step down beside him, the faint scent of his cologne reaches me—warm, spicy, something a little dangerous that makes my stomach flip in a way that’s not helpful at all.
“Alright,” Kiara announces loudly, clapping her hands, “let’s go inside people.”
Bless her impeccable timing.
The moment we step into the big training hall, it’s obvious someone went way harder than necessary. A disco ball turns lazily overhead, throwing flashes of silver everywhere—on the walls, on dresses, on faces.
We grab drinks first, lingering near one of the tall cocktail tables along the edge of the room while Kiara immediately starts whispering commentary about the crowd.
“Okay, but who let him wear that?” she mutters, nodding subtly toward someone across the room.
Mel gives her a look. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice,” Kiara says. “I didn’t say it out loud.”
“It’s true though,” I say, which makes Kiara laugh and Mel shake her head.
We’ve been dancing for the past half hour. Not good dancing—more like chaotic, slightly embarrassing dancing that probably looks exactly like something our parents did in the eighties. But no one seems to care. We’re just moving and laughing and jumping around like nobody’s watching.
Kiara spends most of the song trying to get Noah and Ryan to loosen up, which mostly results in them shaking their heads and laughing. Liam spins Mel and me at the same time at one point, and we nearly crash straight into each other, laughing too hard to recover properly.
After a solid stretch of dancing to a bunch of old 2016 throwback songs, we stumble back off the floor, fanning ourselves and reaching for our drinks.
Before any of us can really catch our breath, someone barrels past us with a giant camera hanging from his neck.
“Yearbook photos!” a voice announces far too loudly.
We all turn to see one of the yearbook guys from school weaving through the crowd, snapping pictures of people like he’s on a mission.
“Come on, people!” he calls. “Don’t make me chase you!”
Mel reacts instantly, grabbing Liam by the collar of his shirt and pulling him into a picture-perfect kiss. Kiara hooks her arm through Noah’s while he forces an exaggerated smile for the camera.
But then the lens suddenly swings toward Ryan and me.
“Oh—wait,” the guy says, squinting slightly. Then his face lights up. “Baylin’s cutest couple right here. Come on, give each other a kiss.”
“Uh—” I start and Ryan leans a little closer, just enough that his arm brushes mine.
“Just go with it,” he murmurs under his breath. And before I can react, he turns his head and presses a kiss to my cheek. Goosebumps rise on my skin and my eyes close for the briefest second as the camera clicks.
The guy checks the screen on his camera and grins. “Perfect. You two are painfully photogenic.”
Then he moves on, shouting something about lighting and angles at another group across the room. Behind me, I hear Mel and Kiara snort. I roll my eyes, fanning my face to prove my red cheeks are not from that kiss. Even though they are.
Then the music shifts and a slow song comes on. The lights dim, bathing the hall in a soft golden glow. All around us, people start standing, pairing off, moving toward the dance floor.
Mel is on her feet, tugging Liam up with her. Within seconds, they’re drifting toward the middle of the floor.
“Absolutely not,” Kiara mutters, standing abruptly and grabbing Noah’s wrist. “We’re not doing this.”
Noah snorts as she drags him away. “Agreed.”
They retreat toward the little stand with drinks. The moment they are out of sight, Ryan looks up at me and stands, holding out his hand with that familiar, crooked smirk. “Can I have this dance?”
I slip my hand into his as I stand. “I would be honoured.”
He lifts his hand and helps me stand.
“Let’s give these people a show,” I whisper with a small laugh.
His eyes snap to me, then nods quickly. “Yeah, let’s give them a show.”
He passes me a quick smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He almost looks disappointed by my comment.
As he leads me toward the dance floor, I lean in slightly. “Just so you know,” I murmur, “there’s a very real chance I will step on your shoes.”
He chuckles quietly under his breath. “Good. I was worried this might go too smoothly.”
He leads me toward the dance floor, weaving us carefully between the other couples already swaying to the music.
When we stop, his hands settle at my waist, like they know exactly where they’re supposed to be.
My arms slide up around his neck, my fingers brushing lightly against the soft fabric of his blazer.
Around us, the room seems to shift. I can feel people watching—glances that linger a second too long, quiet whispers traded between friends who clearly think they’re being subtle.
I lean in slightly. “People are staring.”
“Yeah,” he says, looking around. “You’re kind of hard to look away from.”
My eyes snap to him. “What?”
“I mean it,” he says, his voice low and rough enough that for a second I almost forget we’re standing in the middle of a crowded hall. “Everyone here is looking at you.”
I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “Very funny.”
“Mads,” he says quietly, like I’m missing something obvious. “Every guy in here turned their head when you walked in. I’m surprised no one pulled a muscle.”
The fabric of my dress suddenly feels paper-thin, like the heat of his hands is burning straight through it.
I shake my head again. “People could also be staring because they’re mad I stole you.”
His brows lift. “What?”
I shrug lightly, laughing while we keep swaying. “I mean, I get why everyone’s always trying to marry you off to their daughters. Or flirting with you whenever you walk into a room.”
He raises an eyebrow. “You get it?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You buy flowers. You hold doors open. You’re smart.” I tilt my head slightly. “And you actually listen when people talk. Mothers love that in a future son-in-law.”
A quiet laugh escapes him.
“And,” I continue, warming to my point now, “you’re tall, you’ve got green eyes, and those stupid brown curls. For God’s sake, Ryan. Girls find that attractive.”
He watches me for a second. “Do you?”
My breath catches, I turn my gaze to him. “What?”
“Do you find it attractive?” he repeats, his gaze steady on mine.
“Yes,” I admit.
He leans in slightly closer. “Yes what?”
“Yes,” I repeat. “I find that attractive.”
A slow smile pulls at the corner of his mouth. “So you find me attractive?”
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath. “Do you want me to scream it into the room?”
“If you insist.” His grin widens.
“You’re insufferable.”
“And attractive,” he adds quickly.
I shake my head, rolling my eyes. He laughs softly—and then suddenly spins me, and I immediately land my heel right on his shoe.
“Oh my God—sorry,” I whisper quickly, mortified.
Ryan barely reacts, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s okay.”
“That definitely hurt,” I add under my breath.
“It’s okay,” he repeats easily. “I had to dance with Bailey my whole life. She’s done much worse.”
That pulls a laugh out of me. And now I also picture Ryan dancing with Bailey. In the middle of the living room, loud music blasting through the speakers like neighbours don't exist, Ryan spinning her and picking her up. Even only imagining it makes me smile.
Around us the music continues to drift through the room, but then the opening notes of Until I Found You drift through the speakers.
“Oh my God,” I gasp. “I freaking love this song.”
“I know,” Ryan says, chuckling under his breath.
Jesus. The same guy who couldn’t remember our WiFi password for two years, somehow remembers all this stuff?
I look at him. “You remember that too?”
“I remember everything about you, Mads.”
This guy is seriously messing with my heartbeat. It starts beating way too fast for a slow dance.
I can’t look away from his eyes. We drift a little closer. His fingers trace slow circles at my waist and gaze drops, slowly. From the necklace at my collarbone, to my lips. And I’m suddenly very grateful he’s holding me, because my knees feel like cooked spaghetti.
“You know,” he murmurs, his breath warm near my neck, “if you keep looking at me like that…” He pauses. “…I might forget we’re pretending.”
My stomach does a backflip.
Around us, people are still swaying across the dance floor, but everything feels distant somehow—blurred at the edges. All I can really see is him. Soft light catches in his hair, the disco lights dancing on his skin, his green eyes darker than usual, focused entirely on me.
What is going on between us? I’m almost afraid to even think it, but it's impossible to deny anymore. There is more between us than just fake.
My heartbeat stutters hard enough that I’m almost sure he can feel it, but neither of us moves away. I probably should. But instead, I tilt my chin up slightly and my fingers slide into the hair at the back of his neck before I can stop myself.
Ryan’s breath catches. And then he leans in. Slowly and carefully. Like he’s giving me every possible chance to stop this.
But I don’t. I actually rise on my toes slightly, because even though I’m wearing heels, he’s still taller. And I move closer to his face.
His hand moves from my waist slowly to the back of my neck, then higher, brushing lightly along my jaw, his thumb grazing my cheek.
My stomach flips so hard it’s almost embarrassing.
His eyes flick from mine to my lips. And, apparently forgetting all self-control, I do the same.
Eyes. Lips. Eyes again. He leans in just a couple inches and I’m about to press my lips—
The music cuts off. The lights snap brighter. A loud, fast song crashes through the speakers and reality slams back into the room.
We step back at the exact same time. Ryan runs a hand through his hair, looking a little thrown off, while I immediately smooth down my dress.
Were we actually just about to kiss?!
For a second we just stare at each other, both breathing a little too fast.
“Well,” I say quickly. “Good dance.”
He lets out a quiet laugh, more amused than shaken. “Yeah. Good dance.”
“Let’s—uh—find the others,” I add, already turning before my brain can catch up with the rest of me. As we walk away, my skin still feels warm where his hands were.
What the hell. What the hell. What the hell!!!
We make our way over to the bleachers, where Kiara and Noah are now joined by Mel and Liam. They’re all mid-gossip, drinks in hand, fully settled into People-Watching Mode.
“—I’m telling you,” Kiara is saying as we approach, “I just saw Stacie walking away with Brandon. Like, toward the back doors.”
Noah raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t automatically mean they’re hooking up.”
Kiara scoffs. “Please. Who goes to the back hallway together in the middle of a dance just to talk?”
Ryan drops down beside Noah, looking way too casual for someone who almost kissed me one minute ago.
I take the empty spot next to Kiara, and she immediately turns to me with a grin. “Well, well. Prom queen and king have arrived.”
I nudge her with my elbow and try to laugh, but it comes out weird. Like uncle-with-the-funny-laugh weird.
Okay, I need a moment.
“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” I say quickly, standing up and smoothing down my dress. “It’s boiling in here.”
Mel perks up. “Want company?”
I shake my head a little too fast. “Nope. All good. I just—need air. I mean, obviously every human needs air, but I just—yeah—”
JESUS. STOP TALKING.
Mel laughs as I turn and walk off.
The hallway is quieter and cooler. The music thumps through the walls, while my heels click softly against the floor as I head toward the bathrooms.
Okay. Breathe. Everything is fine.
Cool. Cool, cool, cool.
I push into the bathroom and glance around and it’s completely empty.
Bless the heavens and all the gods above.
I stare at my reflection under the warm yellow lights and notice that my cheeks are flushed, and my eyes are a little too bright.
I run cool water over my wrists, then press some against the back of my neck.
A couple girls pass by outside, whispering and giggling, their heels clicking down the hallway.
I take one last breath and one look in the mirror before walking back into the hallway.
But the moment I push the door open, I freeze.
Leaning against the wall across the hall, arms crossed and jaw tight, is Jacob. He lifts his head when he sees me, his eyes locking onto mine.
Oh no. He definitely does not look like he wants to have a nice little catch-up.