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not ready.

I have a feeling my head will fall in line sooner rather than later, though.

It’s another Spirit Night dance practice, and the school gym is flooded with seniors chattering away. We’ve been at this for an hour already, and Laura is demanding another couple run throughs before she lets us off the hook for the night. She has taught us the entire almost ten-minute routine, but we have a few months to perfect it. Then there will be costume run throughs for the portions that are more skits than dancing, and it should all come together by the big night in May.

“I just don’t love the one song in the middle. It seems tired, when that is the part people will be turning to their friends and talking through. We need to pack a punch just when they’re starting to get bored.” She taps a finger to her chin.

Matt, Sawyer, and Nate stand next to her and me, the boys a little sweaty from just having to perform one of the cheerleading-like stunts Laura put into the routine. It doesn’t stop Matt from eyeing my bestie up and down, though. Where Sawyer and I are taking things slow, those two definitely are not. I’ve been regaled with sex tales left and right. So much TMI that my ears actually might start bleeding.

“It’s not that bad,” Sawyer tells her, trying to help.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. That is the worst thing he could have said. Laura is nothing if not a perfectionist when it comes to dance, and her name is all over this routine.

“You’re the one who hijacked our Spirit Night theme, so sorry if it’s been a little difficult to stray from my original plan.” Laura sends him a withering glare.

Sawyer cringes. “Yeah, about that, I never did apologize. I’m sorry. I know how hard you girls work on this.”

“And guy,” Nate chimes in.

I’m still smarting a little bit from the way he came in and ruined that class cabinet meeting at the beginning of the year. Admittedly, the Senior Survivors theme has been pretty cool. We’re using songs from Destiny’s Child, Akon, The Police, and the actual theme song to the reality show Survivor. The mural that the art students in our grade have thought up is this insane jungle painting that looks so realistic, I’ll be spooked whenever I walk down the hallway our class was designated to paint.

“Yeah, I’m really sorry.” Sawyer rubs the back of his neck. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can tango with her,” Laura deadpans.

I nearly choke on the sip of water I just took from my bottle. “Excuse me?”

My best friend shrugs. “Well, I have this idea that since the two of you used to be sworn enemies, we could do a little play on that. You tango, taking the lead position back and forth from each other, until one of you survives and the other doesn’t.”

“Pretty cutthroat, eh Laur?” Sawyer chuckles.

“Yeah, so, it’ll be great for the show. Everyone knows your past. Maybe we could have you make up at the end, kind of like you both survived your feud. Either way, I think the crowd will go wild for it.”

“One problem. Well, actually, several, but the main one is that neither of us know how to tango.” One of my eyebrows shoots up.

Sawyer pursues me, his long legs eating the small gap between us and pulling me into his arms. He does some kind of smooth dip with me, that probably makes me look awkward and him look like a dreamboat. I giggle as he glides us around, kind of clumsily but with such good intention that he almost pulls it off.

“We don’t need to know how to tango. I can read your body like my favorite book,” he whispers in my ear, so low that the hundreds of other people in the gym don’t hear.

My whole body flushes, and I’m sure I pull back with a face the color of a ripe apple. “You’re too much trouble.”

“And you love it.” He pulls me back in, and the room twirls.

We’re stepping to a silent melody, entranced in each other’s presence. The gym seems to disappear as Sawyer pulls me across the hardwood floor in our sneakers, the two of us hiccupping with laughter but also falling madly, deeply in love.

This kind of flirting is one I’ve never experienced before; the kind you get trapped in and can’t seem to stop doing because you’re so infatuated with the other person. When he’s around, I just seem to be in a perpetual state of fluttering my lashes and curling into his muscular side. To his credit, Sawyer never seems to be able to keep his hands off me or stop smiling in my direction.

“I love you.” I sigh as we come to a stop and he lifts me off my toes.

We’re hugging, his nose buried in my hair, when the clapping starts.

“All right!” Matt slow claps, then uses his fingers to whistle loudly.

“My, my, I need a glass of water.” Nate fans his face.

“Yeah, that’ll work. No one will be bored by that.” Laura gives us a wry smile.

A lot of our other classmates whoop or holler, and I bury my face in Sawyer’s shoulder. I’ve never been crazy about PDA, but with him I can’t help it.

I also can’t help but think about how much happier of a person I am now that we’re together. We had a two-year road block, but I truly believe this is what was meant to happen between us.

It might have taken us a while to get here, but now that we are, I am one of those cliché girls. I’m stumbling over my words, unable to take my eyes off him, goofy at the thought of him kissing me.

And I love it.

29

Sawyer

My head is in Blair’s lap, The Bell Jar poised above me, as she balances a psychology textbook on the arm of the couch.

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