Page 133 of Fall Fake-Out

“Oh?”

“My mom might be coming around.”

His smile widens. “Really?”

“Maybe. And we still have a few days until Landrie’s wedding.”

“So you’re saying there’s still time?”

“I’m saying don’t get lazy on me now, Stevenson.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

And somewhere, deep inside, I hope he means it.

We spend the next hour watching kids dance to fast songs and commenting on surprising couples. Then a slow song finally plays. The entire gym shifts. Students pair off. Lights soften.

Wade steps in front of me with his hand out. “Miss Langford, may I have this dance?”

My heart immediately says yes. The rest of me follows by placing my hand in his. He leads me out to the fringe of the floor. One hand goes to my waist. The other holds mine. We begin slowly moving together like we’ve done this before, which is funny because we haven’t.

“First time,” I say.

His brows lift.

“At a dance together.” I shrug, trying to act indifferent. “I never got the honor of being your date in high school.”

“I was planning on asking you to the senior prom.”

“No, you weren't.”

“I absolutely was, but Wesley Henderson asked you before I could.”

My eyes narrow. “I don’t know if I believe you. You dated pretty much every girl in high school except me. If you wanted to ask me to a dance, you could’ve. You had years of opportunities.”

“I promise, I wanted to ask you.” His eyes look annoyingly sincere.

“I mean”—I shrug, but it feels forced—“it wasn’t exactly my favorite thing.”

His brows furrow as if he doesn’t entirely understand.

“Watching you date every girl in town while pretending it didn’t bother me. I spent a lot of years assuming I wasn’t your type.”

“I couldn’t date you.” His expression changes into something serious as his hand tightens slightly at my waist. Everything about him feels different suddenly. “I couldn’t date you because you meant so much to me. You meant more to me than one date, one dance, or one fleeting kiss.”

The words steal the air from my lungs.

“You were the one girl I couldn’t treat casually.” His voice drops lower. “I knew what would happen if I went after you.”

“What?” The word escapes on a breath.

“I’d fall.” The honesty behind his eyes feels important. “And if I fell for you, that would’ve been it. I would never be able to go back.”

I forget how to breathe because, for years, I’ve believed the exact opposite about why Wade never wanted me.

That I wasn’t good enough for him. That I didn’t matter enough.

And now he’s standing here, telling me the reason was because I mattered too much to him.