Bookishly Ever After (Ever After #1)(39)

“Dev wasn’t in class today,” I said, trying to sound casual. My fingers fumbled as I put together my flute and piccolo.

Em turned her head so that one heavily lined eye peeked out at me. “I heard he has to leave before break starts and was taking his midterms in the guidance office. Wil saw him in there during fourth period.” She rotated slightly so she faced me completely but still managed to look like a tortured soul.

“That makes sense.” I slipped the knit into my palm and held it under Em’s nose. “What do you think?”

Em sat up quickly, grabbing the two mini socks out of my hand. “OMG, these are so f*cking cute!” I had knit them out of our school colors and she danced the little flame-colored socks on the drafting table. She squinted at the note I had pinned to one of them. “‘As requested’?”

“Cute, right? I’m thinking of sneaking these onto Dev’s music stand before the concert.” The thought made my nerves tick up another notch.

“Not how I’d flirt, but I guess it works.” Em flipped one of the socks inside out and I had to fight to keep from grabbing them back.

Instead, I blew air through my lips. “I’ve tried hints. I’ve texted. I’ve worn cute clothes around him. I have a notebook full of the best flirty ideas from a ton of books. Seriously, Em, I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Um, you could just ask him out.”

I frowned at her. “Hello? Shy, bookish knitter here. I don’t ask people out. The thought of doing that gives me hives.”

She made the little socks twirl before handing them back to me. “You’re a lost cause.”

I slipped the socks into the sleeve of my dress. “I just need to figure out how to get this out there without Osoba killing me for getting out of line.” I hummed the Mission Impossible theme song. “At least I’m wearing black.”

“Y’know, I heard that Kris is supposed to be in the audience today.”

I deflated ever so slightly and stopped my silly little spy dance. “Really?” The mini socks burnt my arm, reminding me that I was betraying my feelings for Kris.

“Just kidding. You know he doesn’t do anything that won’t help his student council standing or GPA. The jerk even said they’d have to pay him to listen to the hand bells.” She fiddled with her flute and grinned wickedly at me. “I just wanted to see your reaction.”

“That was mean.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to admit that Dev has risen to higher crush status than Kris? A situation of which I fully approve, by the way.”

I wasn’t going to dignify that comment with a response. Em never understood my undying crush from a distance on Kris. Instead, I looked around the crowded room, squinting my eyes at the clarinet section. “I just want to get this whole night over with.”

Em waved her hand in front of my face. “You’re so boring when you go into freak-out mode.”

“I’m not freaking out,” I said, biting my lip and twisting the mouthpiece on my flute again.

A pair of black-and-white Converse caught my attention, followed by a familiar voice.

“Who’s freaking out?”

I followed those Converse up to a pair of black suit pants and Dev, looking cuter than I’d ever seen him in a black dress shirt and tie. All of the other guys in band were wearing white dress shirts and black ties, making him stand out even more. He twirled his clarinet nonchalantly.

“Feebs. She’s always like this before a concert.” Em jumped off of the windowsill and grabbed her purse, the spangles on her sparkly black flapper dress playing music of their own. “I’m going to go check my makeup before we start. You calm her down.” She skipped off before either of us could answer.

I looked back down at my flute before he could think I was staring. When he slid into Em’s former spot, I had to work to ignore how his shirt just barely brushed my arm. Marissa would smile up at him and slide closer, telling him how good he looked, but I could barely talk.

“I like the black shirt idea. Really different.” I stopped twisting my mouthpiece for a second and looked up at him, quickly adding, “In a good way, I mean.” Darn, he smelled good. Like a mix of soap and spice. I dropped my eyes back down to the linoleum floor.

He started swaying very slightly in time to the choir’s medley of some medieval carols and I was acutely aware of every miniscule touch of his clothing to mine.

“Thanks. Mom nearly had a heart attack when she saw me, but Osoba said black and white. She didn’t say how to wear the black and white.”

I felt his eyes on me and I looked up in time to see him take in my black heels and dress in the same slow, sweeping motion I had used. Heat ran up my body following the path of his gaze and suddenly the room felt too warm. “You look really nice, too.” His grin revealed a dimple I hadn’t noticed before. I was screwed.

I wiped my sweaty palms on the skirt of my dress, praying that I wasn’t also wiping streaks of pastel chalk onto the velvet. “Thanks.”

I loved this dress. It was sleek and figure-skater-y with a deep u-neck and a short, full skirt that threatened to twirl on its own. I was torn between the urge to jump up and demonstrate the swirly-ness, and shrinking and hiding in my flute case. I racked my brain for something to say next, too wound up to even remember anything Maeve would say. Don’t babble on about the dress.