She told herself he was nervous. She had told herself a lot of things in the weeks since the locker conversation.
The Gym, the Laughter, and the Sound of the Door Opening at the Wrong Moment
The gym had been transformed in the way gyms get transformed for prom — string lights hung from the bleachers, round tables covered in white cloth, a DJ running a setup near the far wall, the smell of a hundred different colognes and perfumes layered into something that was less individual scent and more high school atmosphere.
Every head that turned toward Hannah when she walked in with Caleb turned for a beat longer than necessary.
He took her hand and led her onto the floor. He danced with her like someone who had made a decision and was honoring it, eyes on her face, his feet finding the beat without making a production of it. The whispers building at the edges of the room didn’t seem to register on him.
Then it started.
A boy near the speaker setup cupped his hands around his mouth.
“Did Caleb decide to host a charity event tonight?”
Laughter rippled across the room — not everyone, but enough.
A girl she barely recognized called out next: “Oh my God, did someone actually pay him to do this?”
The sound built in layers. The lights felt suddenly too hot. The music felt too far away. Hannah was aware of every pair of eyes in the room landing on her face at the same moment, and she felt each one like a needle point.
