Page 69 of Pick Me Up On Tuesdays

He stood up, slapping me on the back. "You're the worst."

"And undefeated."

He shook his head, smiling now—something between impressed and slightly betrayed.

Just when I thought everything was going fine, Joy spotted the karaoke machine. Instinctively, I knew we were doomed.

“Ohhh, YES.” She grabbed the mic like she was about to drop the greatest performance of the century. Which, of course, meant absolute auditory suffering.

She tapped the mic. “Ladies, gentlemen, and non-magical beings, prepare yourselves for the experience of a lifetime.”

Max, already grinning like a maniac, raised his fists. “LET'S GOOO!”

The music started.

And then Joy sang.

And by “sang,” I mean she howled like an overenthusiastic banshee at a rock concert.

Mia, because she had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, joined in, dancing around Joy with reckless abandon.

Shun, ever the neutral party, simply spectated while casually sipping some mystery drink.

Max, on the other hand, decided that this was the perfect time to grab Shun's waist and pull her into a chaotic mix of kissing and twirling that somehow managed to be both romantic and horrifically uncoordinated.

The sight of Max and Shun spinning around like a malfunctioning blender was definitely not something I needed to witness.

I took a step back. Then another. And that’s when I noticed—

I was alone.

With Ethan. Again.

He turned to me, looking entirely too entertained by my obvious discomfort.

“Wanna dance with me?” he asked, his voice smooth, teasing. Then, with a smirk, he added, “Or should I flirt with the gaming machine instead?”

I scoffed. “I’m sure the gaming machine would love that.”

Ethan chuckled. “You’ve been avoiding me all day. You think I wouldn’t notice?”

Some part of me knew he’d notice. Ethan wasn’t stupid. He was insufferable, yes, but not stupid.

I avoided his gaze. “I haven’t been avoiding you.”

“You definitely have,” he countered, tilting his head. “But you’re not gonna tell me why, are you?”

I said nothing. Because what was I supposed to say? “Hey, sorry for dodging you, but your entire existence is currently triggering some unresolved trauma I’d rather not unpack?”

Yeah. Not happening.

Ethan sighed but didn’t push further. Instead, he reached out. “Come on, Ghost Boy. Just one dance.”

I hesitated.

But for some reason, I found myself stepping forward.

We started moving, slow and unsure.

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