“You did?”
“Yeah. I told her I had feelings for someone else. And have for a long time. I told Andie I wasn’t sure if this girl felt the same way, but I had to see. That I’d regret it if I didn’t.” He makes a come-hither motion with his hand. “Now come here before our song ends.”
My stomach loosens and I finally feel like I can breathe. “You requested it?”
He dips his chin and nods.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask. “Why didn’t you tell me it happened to you too?”
He smirks. “I could ask you the same thing.”
“I thought you’d think I’d lost my mind,” I say, peering up at him.
“We both have. Clearly. And you seemed too angry when we woke up in the gym . . . I thought there was no way.”
I blink, confused. “I could say the same to you. I mean, you did tell me I looked like shit.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m a dumbass. What can I say? I don’t think that’s ever gonna change. Even when we’re thirty.”
“Fair.”
“How did you know for sure?” he asks.
“Kassie. She told me the truth about homecoming. You?”
“I kinda put the pieces together when you jumped me on the roof. And you said that thing about my sister and taking the burden for my parents and I just . . . I hadn’t told anybody that before.”
“I can’t believe this. It’s so weird.”
He nods. “It would be slightly less weird if you’d dance with me.” He extends his hand again and I take it. He gently pulls me into him, one hand splayed on my waist, while the other tucks a ringlet behind my ear and then wraps around my lower back. “I like your hair.”
“Ugh. Don’t lie. It looks awful.”
He chuckles as he twirls me. “Any style would suit you. I promise.”
“Good, ’cause I was thinking of getting an angled mom-bob.”
He cringes. “How do we even begin to explain this to our grandchildren?”
“Wow. Now we’re having grandchildren? We haven’t even broached the topic of kids yet.”
“Hey, you’re the one that went there, talking about mom hairstyles.”
“Was it . . . real?” I ask, burrowing my head into his neck.
“I don’t know. It felt real. Everything I said to you was real. To me. And those feelings haven’t stopped since we’ve come back. And I can’t just continue pretending it never happened because real life doesn’t feel real without you. I can’t pretend I don’t love you.”
I’m filled with a warmth I’ll never forget, like a soft, fizzy drink. I tilt my eyes to his. “You love me? Are you sure?” I ask, leaning closer to confirm I’ve heard him correctly.
His thumb sweeps along my jaw in a gentle rhythm. “Surer than I’ve ever been.”
“I love you too,” I shout over the music, though it comes out more like iloveyou!
His shoulders sag in what looks like relief. “I didn’t know if you were gonna admit that.”
I relish the low vibration of his voice. “I had to. We only have one week left,” I remind him, unable to hide my disappointment.
There’s only one week left to walk these halls, see these familiar faces, lament the torturously long distance between Class A and Class B. Only one week left to fight to the death, Hunger Games–style, for a coveted table in the cafeteria. Just one single week.
It’s strange to think that all of high school is a way of preparing to leave it all behind. You work so hard to establish yourself. Grades. Friends. A reputation. These four years feel like they’ll never end—until they do. It’s like I’ve channeled the great Usain Bolt, full-on sprinting my way to the finish line. But instead of finishing victoriously, I come to a dead stop, only inches before crossing it. It’s not just because of Renner that I don’t want to cross it. It’s everything. I’m going to miss it all. All the little things, even struggling with my combination lock between every period. Suddenly, one week doesn’t feel like enough. Not nearly.
“One week, huh?” Renner cups my chin and tilts my head up again, eyes blazing. “Then we better make the most of it.”
How is it fair that of the 720 days of high school, Renner and I get five? Five. Life is cruel. Then again, five days is better than zero.
“What does that entail?” I ask, letting the fantasy take over.
He bounces his brows suggestively, tightening his grip on my waist. “What do you want it to entail?”