of the auditorium.
Beside me Melissa takes the mic as she wipes a sweaty palm down the front of her skirt. “I, uh, wanted to take someone who I’m close with and means a lot to me, so my date for prom is . . .” She gulps so loudly you can hear it in the mic. “Tucker Watson.”
There are a few gasps and awws, but mostly all I can hear is a sudden ringing in my ears.
“I knew it! I knew they would get back together,” someone seated near the stage says.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Tuck!” some guy shouts.
I breathe in. I breathe out. You’re on a stage in front of tons of classmates. This is not the time to freak out. This is not the time to panic. Even though you just found out that the stupid, cute, smart lumberjack boy who’s been leading you on for weeks is going to prom with his ex-girlfriend. Delightful, really.
I allow myself a brief glance over my shoulder, expecting to find Tucker giving me some kind of sign that Melissa has it wrong and that he meant to ask me to prom. He hadn’t gotten around to it yet. There has to be an explanation.
But instead Tucker is looking at Melissa and Melissa is looking at Tucker. He gives her the boyish grin I’ve come to fall so hard for, except this time it’s not meant for me. This time I’m on the outside looking in.
Twenty-Eight
The moment Principal Armstrong takes the stage to dismiss us, I push past the other contestants to get the hell out of there. I had managed to give a quick answer to Millie’s question, saying that I planned to be free and single at prom. Woot.
I feel so stupid. Ridiculous, actually. Three weeks ago, I didn’t even care about prom. Hell, I wasn’t even planning on going. But now every time I’ve pictured myself at prom, I can’t imagine the evening without Tucker.
I push the bar on the emergency exit door and am immediately blinded with sunlight. As my eyes adjust, I find myself at the edge of the school’s property with only an overgrown field and an abandoned dumpster in sight. Before the door behind me can fully shut, it swings open again.
“There you are,” Tucker says. He kicks a crumbling brick into the doorway to keep it cracked open. “You could have locked yourself out.”
“As long as I don’t get locked out with you,” I spit back at him.
He reaches for my hand, and I flinch, stepping away from him.
“Melissa and I go way back,” he says. “We promised to go to prom together after the breakup.”
“So you’re telling me not to be weird about you going to prom with your ex when you kissed me yesterday?”
“When I said I’d go with her, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone—I never thought I’d have a chance with you, Waylon.”
“Well, you did and you blew it,” I say through gritted teeth. Stay calm, I beg myself. Stay calm. Don’t let him see how much you care.
Easier said than done. “You’ve dragged me along for the last two weeks and you never once thought to tell me that you already had a date for prom?” I let out a growl as my eyes begin to burn with tears. “I hate that I even care about this! This is so ridiculous! I hate you for making me like you. I hate you for making me care about something as sucky as prom. I hate you. I really, really do.”
“Waylon, come on. You don’t mean that,” he says weakly.
“Maybe I don’t, but I wish I did.” I shake my head in frustration. “What the hell do you expect me to think, Tucker? You let me find out onstage in front of the whole damn senior class. And God forbid I want to be your date to prom!”
“You do?”
“Are you really that big of an idiot?” I don’t give him time to answer. “Most of all, I hate you for making me doubt myself. Because deep down, I know that if you really wanted to go with me, you would have talked to Melissa. You would have figured it out. And whether that’s because you don’t want the whole school to know you like guys or because you don’t want the whole school to know that you”—I motion down the length of my body and with the flick of my hand,