The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,82

him go, stricken.

“But I love you!”

My voice echoes out across the dark quad.

He stops.

“I love you.” I yell it again, loud and certain. It sounds crazy, a last-ditch fight to make him stay, but every word of it is true. I catch up with Dante, moving so I block his way.

“Jolene —” His face twists, but I don’t wait to let him tell me no again. With my blood pounding in my ears, I take two quick steps toward him and reach up, kissing him with everything I have.

He freezes, motionless against me.

Nothing.

Slowly, my courage fades, and in its place, I just feel a deep flush of embarrassment.

What the hell am I thinking?

“I . . . I’m sorry.” I reel back, looking anywhere but at him. “I get it. You don’t —”

And then his mouth is on mine, arms locked tight around my waist. He kisses me hard, like it’s the end of the world, and there’s nothing left but us: lips and hands and hot breath against my cheek. I feel my whole body relax against him, overcome with relief.

“You mean it?” he says, finally breaking for air. He looks at me with an intensity that sets fire, bright in my chest. “You’re done with this bullshit? Because I swear, Jolene, I can’t watch you do this anymore. I just can’t.”

“I promise. It’s over.” I meet his eyes, trying to make him see that I mean it. “I don’t want to screw this up again. It’s not just you,” I add, hesitant. I don’t want to sound like I’m making any less of what he means to me, but this has never just been about him. “It’s . . . my life. I need to make it different this time.”

But Dante doesn’t take it wrong; he just breaks into a grin. “About time.”

He lifts me suddenly, swinging me around in a circle. I laugh, clutching at him in surprise. “Dante!” I swat his head. “Put me down!”

“OK.” He sets me down with my back hard against the car, and suddenly my laughter fades. I look at him, breathless.

“So we’re doing this?” I ask, still nervous. How is it even going to work? Just the summer before he’s back at college, trying to paste over the raw gaps we both left behind. There’ll be no hiding here: it’s all or nothing.

He leans close, touches his lips gently to my forehead. “Hell yes,” he whispers, and then that grin is back, and he’s kissing me hard enough to make me believe everything’s going to be just fine.

The library is almost deserted now, and even the security guard just waves me in with a yawn, barely moving from his seat by the front entrance. The building is eerily still: fluorescent lights bright overhead, and not even the usual hushed murmurs to be heard among the tall stacks. I try not to shiver. Quiet is good, especially when you’re about to “obtain” official identification cards, but I can’t help wishing for more than a few sleeping bodies slumped over their books for company. Although . . .

Slipping silently past the empty tables, I creep up behind one of the students — facedown in a large textbook, unmoving. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I carefully scope his desk: highlighters, note cards, and — yes! — the pale edge of his student ID card, peeking out from under his right elbow. I hover there for a moment, just to be sure, but he lets out a snuffle and then settles again, his breathing steady and slow. Perfect.

Leaning in, I reach for the card, easing it out from under him with the very tips of my fingers. Slowly, slowly . . . I hold my breath, tugging it closer until —

“Meg!”

I startle at the noise, knocking into the sleeping boy. He jerks awake under me, making a grunt of confusion. I leap back.

“Hey, I thought it was you!”

I whirl around. The boy from before, Scott, is hurrying down the stairs toward me. He looks tired but happy, his T-shirt wrinkled and his sandy hair all messed up. He comes to a stop in front of me, breathless. “You switched outfits again; I nearly didn’t recognize you. What are you?” He grins. “Some kind of secret agent?”

I gulp, glancing back at my target. He’s frowning, still sleepy, but beginning to register the noise.

“Whas goin’ on?” The boy yawns, looking around. I panic.

“Nothing!” I squeak, backing away. Scott opens his mouth, so I pull him after