The Anti-Prom - By Abby McDonald Page 0,85

the point of asking politely — standing back and waiting for something to be given to me? Isn’t it time I reach out and take what I want myself?

Putting my hand to the doorknob, I carefully turn. It’s open. “Shh,” I tell Scott softly, easing the door wide enough to slip into the room.

It’s pitch-black inside, with the drapes pulled shut and nothing but dark shadows all around. I feel Scott edge in behind me, closing the door behind him to block the hall light. We stand silently in the black for a moment, until my heartbeat slows again and my eyes adjust to the dim.

The sound of light snores is coming from the corner.

“Here.” Scott’s voice is quiet in my ear, and then there’s a pale flicker as he takes out his cell phone. “Do you know where it is?”

I nod, before realizing he can’t see it. “They said they left it on the bedside table,” I whisper back. His arm brushes mine, and I shiver.

Scott takes his phone and sweeps the room, casting a bluish glow over objects in turn until he lands on Jason’s body, slumped unconscious over his bed with a paper party crown crumpled on his head.

“I don’t think we need to worry about him waking up anytime soon.” Scott laughs, his voice returning to normal, but then there’s a sound from the far corner. We freeze.

“Jase?” a male voice slurs from the floor. A head pops up on the other side of the room, adorned with his own crown. “Isthatyou?”

I gulp, lunging for the dark, squarish shape beside Jason’s bed. My hands grope in the dark, feeling my way for something hard and booklike.

“Yup,” Scott says behind me, trying not to laugh. “Just go back to sleep, buddy.”

“Mneughh.” The body slumps back down, just as my fingers close around pages and a leathery cover.

“I think, maybe . . . ?” I hold the book out to Scott, anxious. He shines his phone over the pages, and in the faint light, I can just about decipher a girlish scrawl. “Yes!” I breathe, full of relief.

“Come on!” he whispers, grabbing my free hand and pulling me out of the room. I barely have time to shut the door behind us before he pushes me down the hallway, sprinting toward the elevator. We collapse laughing against the back wall, and then I realize. He’s holding my hand.

This time, I don’t let go.

“The outfit . . .” Scott begins, when we’ve both caught our breath. “You said you were trying to impress someone.” He looks straight ahead as the elevator slowly descends. “Did it work?”

“Yes,” I say quietly.

“Oh.” His hand loosens in mine.

“But it turns out he wasn’t worth impressing,” I add.

“Oh.” The grip tightens again.

I grin.

And then, because adrenaline is still sparkling in my veins, because tonight I’ve done things I never thought I’d have the courage to do, and because — most important of all — I suddenly want it so badly I forget how to breathe, I turn around and kiss him.

My lips bump awkwardly against his at first, but before I can feel clumsy or embarrassed at all, Scott pulls me closer, kissing me properly. His lips are warm against mine, hands gentle on my cheeks. I fall against him, giddy.

Now this is perfect.

We meet back at the car — Jolene and Meg both grinning like cats who got the cream. Or, you know, the cute boys.

“Great.” I sigh, looking between the happy couples. “Now I’m the third wheel. Or is that fifth?”

Meg blushes, shyly holding that Scott boy’s hand. I size him up for a moment, but he’s gazing at Meg with such clear adoration, I can’t even hold those indie sideburns against him.

Jolene isn’t so coy. “Get over it,” she tells me, one hand in Dante’s back pocket. “You’re the one mourning your lost love, remember?”

I stare at her blankly.

“Uh, Cameron, remember him?”

“Oh, right.” I pause, thrown. After everything tonight, he feels like a stranger — someone from a different life.

“So, we’ve got the diary back.” Jolene yawns. “What’s left?”

“Food,” Meg announces immediately. I laugh. “What?” she protests. “Theft and deception is hungry work!”

“There’s a diner just off campus,” Scott suggests, looking around for approval. Meg bats her eyes up at him, lost, while Jolene shrugs, Dante still wrapped around her. Clearly, they need someone to take control before they all melt into a sickening pool of hormones.

“Let’s go!” I declare, shooing them into the car. “Dante, get your hands off her