The Hard Count(78)

“Not being corny. Just being honest,” he says.

My lip ticks up on one side into a half smile, and I move back in against him. I let my eyes wander around the room, and while a lot of people are looking, I think they mostly see us as a couple they don’t recognize. A few of them might be wondering why the new quarterback is with the coach’s daughter—even fewer probably thinking our pairing has something to do with his position. But mostly, people seem to move on with their own dates, their own insecurities, their own crushes, jealousies, gossip-fests and more. Nico and I make slow circles in silence, under glittering lights installed just hours ago, and with every pass of the eyes that were moments ago watching us, fewer look up, until at last—we’re alone.

Nico doesn’t let me go for four songs, and we talk very little. I pay close attention to the feel of his fingertips on my waist, to where they move, how far up my back they travel, how they graze my arms and move my hair. I note every touch and shiver with the feel of it. I’ve forgotten about my repurposed dress, about the eyes around the room—I’ve forgotten about anything that was before there was a me and Nico, and then I start to laugh.

I try to hold it in at first, but he can feel my chest moving, my shoulders raising with each chuckle. Finally, he steps back enough so we can look at one another, and I fail at trying to hide my laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Do you know how much I used to hate you?” I say.

His eyes flash wide, and his mouth falls open. I realize instantly how my sentence sounded, but there’s no other way to say it, so I shake my head slightly and simply own it.

“Wow…hate, huh?” he asks, lifting his brow when he says the h word.

“Yeah…I…did, but maybe…maybe not really,” I stammer.

“Not…really…hate,” Nico says, boiling it down to three words. He laughs once, but narrows his gaze on me, waiting for me to explain.

“Our freshman year, we exchanged papers,” I start, and he tilts his head back and laughs.

“I gave you a B!” he remembers, his chest raspy with his laughter. I purse my lips, and when he looks back to my face, he only laughs harder. “Oh…my God, you were so pissed!”

“Umm, yeah!” I say, stopping our swaying, my hands moving to my hips.

Nico moves one hand to his neck, rubbing, but he continues to chuckle at my expense.

“You had all of these notes for me, and I didn’t read them, but I saw them on your paper when it was sitting on top of your desk during attendance. I hadn’t written anything on yours. I thought we were just going to talk about them. I had no idea how Cornwall worked. Up until that day, I’d only really been in public school in West End, where you raced through assignments so you could get to recess fast.”

Nico moves in closer and takes my elbows gently, scooting me into him, moving his hands to either side of my face, his eyes meeting mine with a jolt—the brown turns gold under the yellow hue of the dance-floor lights. My bravado melts a little, and I move my hands to feel the buttons on his shirt, my fingers roaming along his hard chest.

“You had written so many things that I was so sure you hated my paper, and it pissed me off because I worked so hard on it, and I knew it was good. I just figured you were being a snob from the city, so I wrote a B on yours even though it was totally an A. It was probably the smartest thing I’d ever read,” he says, his head leaning slightly to the side. My eyes match his, and I fall a little more for him.

“I was so mad at you over that. And you always battle me in class. You have…every year. And debate…”

Nico steps into me, catching my bottom lip between both of his, halting my words and holding me hostage in a soft kiss. His hands cup my face, and I tremble at the sound of his breath against mine while his tongue takes a slow and deliberate swipe against my lip. We remain shielded between the couples who have slowly filled the dance floor, and when his lips leave mine, the feel of him lingers. I tuck my lip in my mouth and taste where he was, smiling.

“You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met, and…I had no idea how to handle you. When you walked over to our field that night,” Nico begins, but never finishes, his teeth holding on to his top lip. He doesn’t need to say any more. His eyes move around my face, as if he’s memorizing everything about me and locking the details away for safe keeping.

“I’m glad I came over to watch…your real game,” I say, repeating the words just like Sasha had said them weeks ago.

Nico laughs softly and pulls me against him again, and I fall back into place, letting him hold me through fast and slow songs while couples come and go on the floor. At one point, I see Noah standing next to Izzy, both of them drinking glasses of punch, their eyes moving around the room as they point at people and whisper and laugh. When Izzy catches me watching them, she turns to Noah, then back to me, pressing her finger to her lips, her face serious, reminding me to keep my word.

I would have broken it if I needed to. The moment Noah said he had ended things with Katie, I thought of Izzy, of what she confessed. But seeing them now, in their natural comfort with one another, I realize how much I would ruin if I meddled with that. Izzy likes my brother—as in likes likes him. And he may very well like her, too. If so, then nature will have to intervene, because they both also like moments like the one they are living in right now, and how shameful it would be if I robbed them of more of those by making things uncomfortable.