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“Alright.” Diesel rises from the table and rolls up their sleeves. “Let’s get started. We don’t have much time.”

“Awesome,” I say, allowing a relieved smile to come out. “I’ll cue the music.”

We rehearse for three hours before we take our first break. We’ve chest-pumped and body-rolled so many times, I am going to feel it in my bones tomorrow. But it’s important I get all the moves down perfectly on the off chance I do have to follow through and perform the entire routine. We have less than an hour before Dad opens the club up to the public. Diesel’s seated, listening to the song on repeat, closing their eyes and tapping on the table, and Finn is chewing on his fingernail while staring down at his phone.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, bringing over the bottles of water that Dad left for us on the bar.

“Axel isn’t responding to any of my texts. I told him we’re running a bit late.”

“Did you try calling?” I ask, sitting at the table with them. “He sometimes picks up.”

Finn nods and calls Axel with the speaker on. My pulse quickens as the first ring comes through the phone—followed by another ring, and then a third before his voicemail plays. “Am I screening this call? Probably. Either way, no one leaves voicemail anymore. Don’t be that person.”

Finn laughs at Axel’s recording, but all it does is make me question if everything I’m doing is a huge mistake. “Do you think he’s onto us? Do you think he knows you’re with me and that’s why he’s not answering? Would he be pissed?” I ask.

“Jamie, you need to chill. Sometimes Axel doesn’t reply to our texts for days. He’s not obsessed with his phone,” Diesel says.

“He always responded to my texts immediately,” I say.

“That’s because he’s in love with you,” Finn replies.

“Did he tell you that?” I ask, hearing both the hope and desperation in my voice.

“It was pretty obvious the night we all met,” Finn says, tucking his phone away.

“You two know Axel better than anyone. Do you think this will work, or am I just wasting your time?”

Diesel looks up from their phone. “He’s hurting, and when he’s hurt, it’s hard for him to see outside those feelings sometimes. So yeah, there’s a chance this might not work. But there’s also a chance it might.”

“Axel’s worth taking the risk, right?” Finn asks.

“One hundred percent.” One million percent. “The clock’s ticking. We should get back to it.”

“You’re such a little keener.” Finn smiles.

“Funny thing about the word ‘keener,’ ” I say before taking a sip of water. “It originates from the word ‘keen,’ which in adjective form has more than a handful of homographs.”

“Jamie,” Diesel says, nodding their head to the stage. “If you want Axel to bekeenon you, I suggest we focus on the performance.”

“I’m keenly aware of what you did there,” I say, biting back a smile.

“No wonder Axel likes you so much. You’re almost as corny as he is,” Diesel says. We laugh as the three of us make our way back to the stage.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

It’s Saturday. December 19. The day of winter formal, and a huge amount of snow fell last night. Toronto has practically shut down since there aren’t enough plows to deal with the amount of snow that dumped on our city, and even when they do manage to plow the roads, there’s nowhere to put it all.

Olivia calls. She’s freaking out because she’s head of the social committee and people keep messaging her, wanting her to reschedule the formal, as if it’s that simple. As she puts it, it’s “effing impossible.” For one, we’d lose our deposit. And secondly, the CN Tower is all booked up for the rest of the season. The fact that we got it at all, according to Olivia, was a miracle.

“It’s still early in the day. I’m sure by the evening they’ll have most of the main roads cleared off,” I say, trying to reassure her over the phone. But the news station playing in the background in a constant loop paints a completely different picture.

“Even still, how am I going to get my hair and makeup done?”

“Can you come here?” I ask. “All my mom’s customers canceled. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to help doll us up for the formal.”

“Oh my god. Yes!” Olivia basically shouts into the phone. “I don’t care how long it takes me to dig out my car, I’ll be there.”

“Be careful,” I say.