SUMMER
The dance floor was warm and close and loud, the music running straight through the floor and up through the soles of my boots. Maddox's voice from the stage filled the room like something physical, and around us everyone moved with the easy abandon of people who had temporarily agreed to stop thinking about anything.
Maddox could really sing. His voice was soulful and his music was amazing. But what really surprised me was Rhett.
The boy who barely spoke, who stood at the edges of every room like he was calculating the exact amount of space he needed — that boy could dance. He found the rhythm the way some people find water, naturally and without looking for it, his body loose and easy in a way I hadn't seen from him before. The careful containment he wore like a second skin loo
