Page 85 of What I Like About You

7:15 PM

The music blows.

7:16 PM

This blows.

7:16 PM

Sometimes I think it’d be cool if, like, we went to the same school.

7:16 PM

We’d totally make fun of this together.

7:17 PM

Maybe I’d even dance with you.

7:17 PM

FOURTEEN

With my red pumps and matching lipstick, I look fierce.

Except all the lipstick in the world isn’t going to make mefeelfierce.

The Middleton High School gym has been transformed into a winter wonderland. We enter under a blue balloon arch to a cacophony of white noise humming beneath the boom of the deejay’s speakers. Everyone is in the middle of the gym floor, dancing to a new Beyoncé track that is absolute fire. Teachers and parent chaperones line the perimeter of the gym, and it must be awkward for them to watch their students and children dancing like one giant mob.

Even off the dance floor there are too many people. Too many voices and bodies.

Nash and I are meeting here. He offered to pick me up, but Gramps wanted to drive Ollie and me together and, well, how could I say no to that? Turns out, Gramps is so soft when it comesto his dressed-up grandchildren attending school-sponsored events. He spentwaytoo long takingwaytoo many pictures. Seriously, it took five minutes just for him to realize his camera was in selfie mode.

Except now I’m twenty minutes late and I can’t find anyone.

I need something to do, so I make a move for the snacks table while the line is still relatively short. I bypass the chips, veggies, and cookies, and go straight for the beverages.

“Hal-lee! Hey, we’ve been looking for you.”

Of course, Sawyer is at the snack table. This should’ve been my first move, really.

“Hey! Where is everyone?” I ask as I grab a bottle of water.

The song changes to a loud rock ballad.

“What?” Sawyer yells.

I lean forward and yell into Sawyer’s ear.

“Molly and Autumn haven’t left the dance floor! Nash is over at the table!”

Sawyer points to Nash. He’s hunched forward with his elbows on the table, typing into his phone. Mine is on silent, but I can’t help but wonder if those texts are for Kels or for me.

“Cool! I’m just gonna—catch you later!”

My fingers itch for my cell phone as I approach Nash, but I figure I’m already anxious enough. It’s probably better that I don’t know whatever he’s saying to Kels or me. Away from the speakers, the music isn’t deafening anymore, and though I might have partial hearing loss, I can at least now speak at a normal level.

“Hey,” I say.

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