My sides hurt from laughing.
My feet hurt from dancing.
My ears were ringing from the music.
My head pounded. My dress was a mess. My makeup was nonexistent. My hair was a nest.
But prom had been everything.
I was shocked. All those years I’d avoided life, school, classmates, dances—maybe I shouldn’t have? I came out of the bathroom and headed for the parking lot—like I’d just texted Cross—as I considered that.
No. It had been fun now because I was ready. Now. Not then. I’d needed only my crew then, and now, I was opening up, trying to accept others, not be so guarded.
I was just passing the guy’s locker room when I heard the door open.
I didn’t think anything of it. I didn’t think anything of the empty hallway. I didn’t think anything of the low lights until I heard, “Bren.”
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