Page 27

My muscles remember just how tired they are as I lean against my desk. We had double practice today, and I worked through some more of my textbooks and course overviews during our afternoon break. My eyelids start drooping, and I wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand before flopping down on my bed with my legs hanging off the end. The party will be winding down soon, and I need a little break from being on my feet before I head back for the grand finale.

The bathroom door opens and closes a few times as I lay there, and I hear people passing up and down the hall while shouts and laughter from downstairs follow them. I’m really fighting to keep my eyes open now, and I’ve almost started slipping into a dream when someone’s voice at my door makes me turn my head.

“Hope?”

Becca is standing in the gap left by my half-open door, one of her hands hovering over the handle like she’s not sure if she should open it all the way or pull it shut and leave me here on my own.

I’m not sure what she should do either.

“Oh, hey,” I answer.

Smooth.

I push myself up into a seat, and she takes a step inside.

“You okay? I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I think I passed out for a second there,” I admit as I adjust my glasses. “You may have just saved me a couple hundred dollars. I snapped the arm off a brand new pair of glasses by falling asleep on them once.”

Here I am, rambling about glasses. My mom always says if there’s silence, I’ll find a way to fill it. She’s usually right.

“They’re nice,” Becca says as she takes another step forward. “Your glasses. You had different ones last year.”

I blink at her for a second as I let that settle in. She noticed.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks.” I take them off and start polishing one of the lenses with my shirt even though they’re perfectly clean. “You don’t think they’re too hipster? My brother keeps making fun of them.”

Becca laughs, and the low, husky sound makes my breath hitch.

“I think they’re great. They fit with your whole, like, tattoo and blue hair thing.”

I slide them back on and laugh. “So you do think they’re uber hipster. I see how it is.”

“No, really, they’re—”

“I’m kidding, Becca.”

She’s shuffling around like she’s nervous.

“Do you, uh, want to sit down?” I offer.

My heart is already pounding, and it only gets louder when she hesitates for a second and then sits down next to me on the edge of my bed. Our bare thighs are just a few inches apart. I can smell her shampoo, something light and flowery mixed with warm vanilla. My fingers dig into the bedspread.

“Is that him?” she asks.

“Huh?”

I come back to reality and find her pointing at a framed photo of me, Zach, and our older sister Emily on my wall. We’re all wearing dorky Christmas sweaters.

“Oh, yeah, that’s Zach and my big sister Emily.”

“They look like you. Except for the blondeness, of course.”

I flip the ends of my hair over my shoulder. “Alas, I was not blessed with the Hastings clan’s luscious golden locks.”

She chuckles and glances down at her clasped hands in her lap. “Well, blonde is overrated anyway.”

“Maybe I should give being a redhead a go.”