It's My Life - Stacie Ramey Page 0,63

her, a rippling shimmery bouncy curtain. She’s also got a body that I’d kill for. Literally. And now that body is pressed against Julian’s. My Julian’s.

A slow song comes on, and I watch as they sort of sway to it. My eyes are filled with beautiful images of Audra and Julian until I’m believing their story way more than I’m believing ours.

“This was a stupid idea,” I say. Breathe out. Sigh. I reach my hand out to Ben. “More?” He hands me the bottle.

“No worries.” Ben leans his head against mine. “The boy is just getting started.”

I take another sip as the song ends, and Julian backs away from Audra. She smiles, but I can tell it’s a disappointed one. He slips his cell out of his pocket as he walks the perimeter of the room. My phone buzzes. I cradle it in my hand, hiding it from the rest of the world.

You here, Elsa?

I know I shouldn’t be texting him here, right in the open, but I can’t help it. The relief of having him leave her to try to find me makes me reckless.

Yes.

Where?

I watch as Julian scans the room, careful to slide my phone back into the little purse Rena gave me to use tonight. It keeps buzzing, and I wish I’d turned it off. Julian’s teammate Nate stops Julian’s forward progression. Nate is talking. Julian looks like he’s trying to be interested, but his eyes keep darting to the room, to the kids dancing, the ones not dancing. He takes out his phone. My phone buzzes and I sneak a peek.

Tell me what you’re wearing.

A dress.

Very funny. Give me a hint? Color?

I gaze around the gym and see a few girls in navy blue dresses. None like mine but some navy blue-ers, for sure. But not enough; it would be a massive clue.

That’s too easy.

Then tell me something about you.

Maybe you’ve already danced with me?

I say a silent prayer that he doesn’t fall for this—that he’ll know that Audra is not his Elsa.

Nah. I don’t think you’re wearing silver.

What color do you think I’m wearing?

Something less flashy.

Do you like flashy?

Nah. I like real.

And suddenly I feel so close to the boy that it’s like my heart opens up and lets his words cradle my insides.

Cybil Matthews is the next one to him to dance. I watch helplessly as Julian puts his hands around her waist. Ben’s hand goes on my shoulder. I reach for his bottle and drink a little more.

“How am I going to even get him over here, much less get him to dance with me? Also, how am I actually going to dance?”

“We talked about this. When you ask him, I’ll make sure they play a slow one. I’ve already set that up.”

“Still. With this…” I pat my cast.

“You can do it. You will.”

I watch Julian extricate himself from his dance partner and pull out his cell.

Come on, Elsa. Tell me where you are. Save me from another meaningless dance.

My hand goes over my mouth to hide my smile. In the crowd, I spot Rena with a bunch of her friends. They each spread out and ask a boy to dance. Carla with Nate, Dara with Darren, and Rena ends with Chip, which seems to be happening more and more. Too much to be accidental or coincidental. My little sister is into a senior. This won’t go over well with Dad, Uncle Steve, or Eric, but they won’t hear about it from me. I’m no snitch.

This time it’s a fast one. And I’m really glad that neither Carla or Dara ended up with Julian, because that would be another dance with another girl. When the song’s done, Chip hugs Rena, and I feel happy for her. She smiles, and I’m sure in her circle getting a senior to dance with her is serious cred.

Julian texts again.

Come on. Where are you? I’ll get on my knees if that’s what it takes.

And he does it. He gets on his knees right in the middle of the dance floor.

Is that what you want?

I start to laugh and too late I realize I’m not safely hidden away, reading these texts. I’m here. In the gymnasium. And Julian is looking right at me. I blush and fumble with my phone. “Crap,” I say to Ben. “I’ve been spotted.”

“Show me your cell.”

“What?”

“Just do it. He has no idea what you’re looking at. Could be a stupid cat meme.”

Julian goes back to texting.

Will you ever ask me to dance?

“You can’t