Woke Up Like This(79)

Renner follows my gaze to Clay, who’s sought solace with the guys, seemingly forgetting I exist. “Are you, though? Because you’ve got your mad face on.”

“My mad face?”

He nods.

“A natural by-product of being near you, yes,” I say, too tired to come up with anything wittier.

“All right. Whatever you say,” he says, though his tone tells me he doesn’t buy it.

“Instead of pestering me, why don’t you go dote on Andie? Your actual prom date?”



His eyes widen. “Come on. You can’t be mad that I agreed to take Andie days before anything happened between us.”

My instinct is to deny, deny. “I’m not mad about that, Renner,” I say, though I’m pretty sure my face is a dead giveaway. “But good on you for always thinking everything is about you. And for the record, nothing happened between us.”

“You really think that kiss was nothing?” he whispers. He’s right, of course. It was everything. But my pride won’t let me admit it.

I shake my head. “Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.”

“Okay, if you say so.” We sit in awkward, stilted silence. Renner finally deflates, exasperated. “You never even gave me a chance to explain. You just ran out—”

I hold my hand out to stop him. “Why are you doing this? You know I like Clay. Why can’t you just let me be happy for once instead of always trying to ruin everything?” It comes out louder than intended, catching Andie’s and Kassie’s attention in the front of the limo.

I can see the pity in his face. The downturn of his lips. The sad, dopey eyes. Before he can respond, Andie plops herself smack between us, half on my lap and half on Renner’s.

I take this as my cue to move and snag her previous spot next to Kassie.

“Everything good with you and J. T.?” she asks pointedly, fluffing her hair in her compact mirror.

I flash her a fake smile, willing Renner to disappear into a cloud of dust. “When are things ever good between us?”

“Don’t let him get to you,” she warns.

“Oh, I won’t,” I declare.

J. T. Renner may have ruined freshman homecoming, but he won’t ruin my prom.





THIRTY-EIGHT



Clay ditches me the moment we enter prom. I don’t blame him, given I’m in full-blown student council mode, ensuring everything and everyone is where they’re supposed to be. Admittedly, it’s not the fairy-tale night I envisioned with him.

Though I saw the gym earlier today, it’s an entirely different experience at night, with the lights down, the candles lit, and everyone dressed up. It’s an underwater oasis. The uplighting really does wonders for the ambiance, casting blue and pink rays that appear to be moving, like water. Even the DJ’s strobe lights make the seaweed look like it’s swaying in the water. It may even be nicer than the Mardi Gras prom from the future. Maybe Renner was right about the theme, after all.

At most dances, it takes a while for the dance floor to fill. But it’s already packed by the time we arrive. Everyone is circled around Patrick Stone, MHS’s resident break-dancer, who’s currently spinning on his head.

I’m in hot pursuit of a missing centerpiece when Nori pulls me onto the dance floor. She’s always fun to dance with, mostly because she embodies the phrase “dance like no one’s watching.”

By the third song, Kassie and Andie join us. Despite my weird feelings toward Andie, I soak in the moment. After four years, this is the last time we’ll all be together like this. There won’t be another high school dance.



A melancholy slow song fills the air, an abrupt shift. The lights dim and everyone rushes off to find their dates. I catch myself smiling, watching Nori and Tayshia laugh maniacally at something as they twirl each other. Meanwhile, Ollie is whispering sweet nothings into Kassie’s ear. My heart flutters, seeing my friends so happy. What it must be like to find love like that in high school.

I scan the dance floor filled with closely entwined couples and catch Clay in my peripheral vision. He’s hanging out near the bleachers in what appears to be animated conversation with his friend. The last thing I want to do is force him to dance with me when he’s already shown zero interest in dancing—and also as my prom date.

“Hey, having fun?” Clay asks as I approach.

I shrug. “I’d probably have more fun if my date was dancing with me.” I try to say it casually.

“All right. Let’s go,” he says, monotone.

I place my hands on his shoulders. His fall to my waist, and we dance like preteens allowing space for the Holy Spirit for the last half of the song, before a fast one begins. I can’t help comparing dancing with Real Clay to Adult Renner. But it’s just not the same.

“So, um, thanks for being my date,” I tell him, relieved when the song ends and I can pull away.

He scratches his head. “For sure. Though I kinda think you probably would have preferred to go with someone else.”

“What?” I say, jaw slackening in denial.

He laughs over the music, raising a brow knowingly. “J. T.”

“Renner? No. Why would you say that?”

“Dunno. Call it intuition, I guess? Looked like you had a pretty tense conversation in the limo. And you both couldn’t stop staring at each other at Ollie’s.”