didn’t know about that. My eyes were burning from the brightness, making them water. “I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll see you guys in there.”
“Want some company?” Callie asked.
“That’s okay,” I said, smiling at Carson’s disappointment. “You guys have fun.”
He put his arm around her, and they left with the rest of the group. I’d find them when I made sure all the makeup Zara worked so hard on wasn’t running down my face.
The bathroom was blissfully empty this early on in the dance, and I’d caught my makeup soon enough that I was able to minimize the damage from my watering eyes.
I gave myself a last smile in the mirror, appreciating the work Zara had done. I really did look beautiful, and I felt good too. Yeah, a part of me wished I had been able to come with Ray as my date, but I knew this was good too. I didn’t need that validation anymore. Anyone I decided to be with would be there for me—asthma, curves, freckles, and all.
Sixty-Nine
I crossed the hall and went into the gym that had been transformed for the dance. The entire floor was covered with a protective layer and decorations lined the room. As my eyes adjusted to the darker lighting, I looked around for my friends.
The first pair I saw on the dance floor was Merritt and her brother. They danced to an upbeat song, having fun. However, if I knew my friends, they’d be as far from Merritt as possible. I checked the opposite side of the gym and found them sitting around one of the few tables that lined the edge of the room.
I took the open seat next to Zara and said, “Saw your man busting a move with his sister."
She rolled her eyes. "Maybe if I tell my dad I’m not related enough for Ryde, he’ll call it off.”
“Good idea. Nothing like some incest to break up an arranged marriage. Unless you’re in Arkansas, then...”
“Play the wedding bells,” she said, laughing.
“We’re terrible,” I said.
“Nonsense.” She batted her hand at me. “So, what do you think? Glad you came?”
I looked around the table at my friends each absorbed in their relationships, took in the music coming from the band. “Yeah, I am.”
She rubbed my shoulder. “Me too.”
The music faded to a stop, and the lead singer said, “We have a special treat tonight. One of your very own Emerson Academy classmates has a song to play!”
My eyebrows drew together, and I looked to Zara for explanation. “Did you hear anyone talk about this?”
Her mouth dropped open, and she pointed back at the stage.
I followed her finger, and my jaw went slack as well. Ray Sadler had his guitar strapped around his shoulder and was stepping up to the microphone.
He was dressed for the dance, in a navy-blue suit and dress boots that made him look like he was stepping onto a red carpet for the latest western romance movie and not a high school dance.
His eyes met mine across the room as he said, “This is for you, Ginger Nash.”
The entire room faded around me, and all I could see was him, the gentle strum of his fingers over the guitar strings, the emotion on his face clearer than ever. Each note hit my heart, just as surely as my friends were shoving me toward the stage.
Mesmerized, with my heart in my throat, I took small steps toward the stage where Ray sang “Head Over Boots” like the words were meant just for me. As I drew closer, his eyes met mine and his lips formed the most earnest smile I’d ever seen. The smile stayed as he sang the rest of the song, and when the closing chords faded, the entire gym erupted into applause.
I couldn’t clap, couldn’t move as he spun the guitar over his back and stepped down to me and the band started playing again. Extending his hand, he said, “May I have this dance?” His eyes were flowing blue waters, soft and warm and everything that reminded me of how much I missed him.
While my head screamed I should turn and run the other way, go join my friends at the table, my heart begged me to put my hand in his, to hear him out. In the end, my heart won. It had relocated to my sleeve, and all there was to do was put my hand in his, rough and familiar and home.
A feeling of excitement and security overwhelmed me. Something