Page 132 of Fall Fake-Out

I walk into the gymnasium for the homecoming dance, and immediately, I’m transported back a decade. The place looks completely different than it does during school. Twinkle lights hang from the rafters. The basketball hoops have been raised. Students dance beneath strips of white crepe paper while music pulses through the room.

I borrowed another dress from Landrie. The fabric is a deep-wine color, somewhere between burgundy and plum, and it skims my body all the way to my ankles. The neckline is simple. The silhouette is simple, but I don’t feel simple in it.

My hair is swept into a loose knot at the nape of my neck, pinned up in a way that somehow looks effortless despite taking entirely too much work. Soft pieces have escaped around my face, curling against my cheeks and neck. The style leaves my shoulders bare and makes me feel more polished. Not like the woman who spent the morning watching a barn get built while eating several donuts.

Wade stands near the entrance, talking to Mr. Heath.

His gaze lifts to me, and the conversation dies mid-sentence.

Mr. Heath keeps talking, but I can tell Wade doesn’t hear a word.

For one glorious moment, he just stares.

Slowly, his eyes travel from my shoes to my dress then back to my face. And the look he gives me nearly knocks the wind out of me. His hand lifts, fingers brushing past his hair, stopping on the nape of his neck and pausing there like he’s seeing something impossible.

There’s a subtle head shake.

Then he starts walking straight toward me.

The closer he gets, the worse my heartbeat becomes.

“You look...” He stops. Another head shake. Tries again. “You look incredible.”

Heat rushes into my cheeks. “Thank you.”

His eyes lower briefly as if he physically cannot stop looking.

“It’s just a dress.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, “but you’re wearing it. So…” His words die, and even that feels like a compliment.

“I’ve never chaperoned a dance. What’s the gist?”

Wade smiles. “Just to spend as much time with me as possible.”

“And the students?”

“They can fend for themselves.” I laugh as he nods toward the refreshment table. “Actually, I always hang out over there.”

“That’s where I’ll hang out too.”

We walk over, turning so we face the students. Across the gym, Ashtyn Ellis is attached to a senior boy like Velcro. The poor kid doesn’t stand a chance.

I’ve noticed all week throughout the fall festival that Ashtyn hasn’t been hanging around Wade as much. Or if she has, I haven’t noticed.

“I think you’ve officially been replaced.”

“Thank goodness.” He immediately relaxes. “I guess congratulations are in order.”

“For what?” I stare at his outstretched hand.

“The bet. You won.”

Understanding dawns. “Oh.”

He shakes my hand dramatically. “Congratulations, Miss Langford. You’ve successfully cured my inappropriate student-crush problem.”

“I think it’s too early to call a winner.”