Gavin Locke didn't do dances.
Gavin Locke didn't do tuxedos.
Yet Gavin Locke was currently in both of them. He pulled at his collar like a five year old in their first holiday suit. He hated wearing this, but it was all part of the changes he had decided needed to be made. He snagged his dad's keys earlier and drove here, wearing a suit he'd been given two years ago to attend his grandmother's funeral. It seemed appropriate. Much like Gavin himself, the suit had full of sad memories and regret.
His hair was actually brushed, and on his way to the dance, he stopped by the gas station to pick up a flower--Sara's favorite, a big sunflower. He had to bring something to show that this wasn't just an act. For weeks now he was replaying that night in his head. Why did he get so angry at her so
