Page 53 of As You Walk On

Or do they see me like my magnet program—general? Basic?

Nothing special or extraordinary required.

Makayla gives me an indiscernible look. “Right. Your friendJay.” Something hangs on the way she says his name.

“And Darren,” I repeat, maybe a little too hopeful. Here I am, playing wingman for a friend I haven’t seen or heard from since I let him run off with those Yearbook girls. My birthday gift better be epic come November. “You know, Darren Jacobs?”

“Yeah,” she says unconvincingly.

Was that mutual follow back earlier an error?

“Anyway, drinking’s their thing. I’m good without it.”

“Sounds responsible,” she notes, turning to pick through a cabinet stocked with several half-empty bottles of alcohol.

I grin.

“Andsoboring,” she adds, my shoulders deflating at her smile. “Mixers for you, then.”

Before I can protest, she loads my arms with supplies: a stack of Solo cups, orange juice, and sodas. I fumble to arrange everything as she moves through the Campbells’ kitchen like it’s her own.

“Vodka, rum,andgood old Jim Beam,” Makayla says. Shebalances the bottles in her hands like it’s nothing. “No discriminating in this house.”

She takes stock of everything I’m holding, then nods. “Let’s go.”

It’s even more difficult navigating the party with supplies. The struggle is obnoxiously real. We’re detoured thanks to the boys’ basketball team clogging the main kitchen entrance to loudly discuss their failed season. Makayla twirls to avoid sloppy drunks. Mingles easily as we pass familiar faces. Every few seconds, she checks to make sure I’m not too far, even stopping when I get caught behind a line of kids—poorly—doing the Wobble.

I’m two steps behind when I hear it.

His laugh.

I don’t care how many people complain as they maneuver around me. How thirsty I look when the path clears, and I clock Christian standing outside by the pool. Whatever Makayla shouts as I clumsily drop our supplies on a nearby couch goes unheard.

Christian’s right there.

Makayla cuts in front of me. “Where are you going?” she asks frantically. “Theo? We have—”

“I’m going to take care of something,” I interrupt, staring past her at a dimpled left cheek, lemon-yellow shirt. Carelessly, I add, “I’m about to have the best prom ever.”

Makayla’s eyes track my line of vision. Her mouth falls open at the sight of Christian. I can relate. “Wait, Theo,” she rushes out, but I’m uninterested in her babbling.

The only person I’m fascinated by is taking a sip from an orange Solo cup, looking like he needs a new reason to smile.

“Hey.”

Christian jerks when I pop up in front of him. Okay, I could’ve made a subtler entrance. But his eyes brighten when he realizes it’s me. My heartbeat finally settles.

“There you are.”

“Here I am,” I confirm, grinning uncontrollably.

“Thought you ghosted me.” He laughs softly.

“I would never.”

His eyebrows raise, as if to say,Boy, please. That’s fair. I wasted too much time upstairs trying to psych myself up for this. I was distracted by the wrong things. Well, notwrong. Things that weren’t a priority. It still doesn’t sound right in my head.

Whatever.

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