Page 124 of As You Walk On

“Hey,” Luca says again, softly, his fingers catching my chin. He rotates my face until our gazes meet. “All night, you let me go on and on about Dev. My fam. When we were alone, you never told me about your problems.”

I shrug weakly. “Was kinda trying to figure it out on my own.”

Other students shuffle through the hall. Locker doors slam. One of the Rolling Tonesawws at us.

“Yeah, Darren told me.” He grins again. “It made me realize you’re really far from perfect.”

“Uh, thanks?”

He laughs loudly. His warm fingers trail down my neck. I shiver. He says, “Ilikebeing around someone I can be imperfect with. I didn’t always feel that way around Dev. Or my fam. I can be messy sometimes.”

The left side of my mouth pulls up.

“Come on.” Fiery red blush flares against his cheeks. “You saw me fall on my ass trying to prompose. Grind on a fake girlfriend. Big wet stain on my groin. Lose a dance contest.”

“Don’t forget getting meme’d to Lorde.”

He shakes his head. “Point is, you never made me feel like being me was a bad thing.”

I lean into his hand. Beaming.

“And thanks to Darren,” he says, shoulders relaxing, “I know what you did and said wasn’t intentionally hurtful. He says you’re growing. It takes time. But he’s confident you really like me.”

Now it’s my turn to squirm as my cheeks burn. Huh. Darren’s a good wingman after all.

“So my imperfectness makes me prom-worthy?” I chance.

Luca sucks in his lips, but he can’t hide his smile, the rose in his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Cool,” I whisper, watching light dance around his dark eyes.

I signal behind him. “I’d talk about this longer, but, uh. Track practice.” He looks embarrassed at keeping me here. I swallow before asking, “Do you maybe wanna walk with me?”

Once again, Luca surprises me. He doesn’t hesitate. His hand falls from my neck to grab my hand. It takes two tries before we manage to find the right fit. Our fingers interlock like the hearts on his ring.

Holy shit.

I’m walking down the halls of Brook-Oak holding a boy’s hand.

24

WHAT ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS?

Dreaming about andfinally saying yes to prom is vastly different from planning, preparing, and trying not to blow chunks everywhere two hours before the Big Event.

Currently, I’m a mess.

“Maybe we should’ve gone with the classic black one?” I suggest.

Dad makes a noncommittal noise as he fixes my bow tie.

“The midnight blue suit was fresh, right?”

Regret is stacking up like a Jenga tower. The blue tux was clean, stylish, and timeless. Nothing like what I’m wearing now. Why did I choose my prom attire based on the pair of socks I bought for tonight? Who wears Darth Vader on their feet to prom?

Dad hums again while rolling a lint brush across my shoulders.

“Or the ivory one?”

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