“Don’t care about him,” I said softly.

He nodded. “No matter what your mouth says, the heart wants what the heart wants.”

“And how do you know what my heart wants?”

He grinned. “I got skills when it comes to relationships. Trust me. If it wasn’t for me, my bro never would have gotten with the love of his life.”

I arched a brow. “Really? So you’re like Mr. Cupid?”

He busted out with a guffaw. “I love that. Call me that from now on. I insist.”

“You’re really full of yourself.” And I kinda liked it. And him. “Here’s the deal: you don’t call me Tiny Dancer, and I will call you Mr. Cupid.”

He grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “Can I tell you a secret?”

My lips twitched. “Maybe I already know it.”

“How?”

I shrugged. So not telling him how I like to listen in on convos.

He continued, “I want you to come to the dance.”

“I don’t date guys from BA.” Now.

“I would love to take you out,” he flicked his eyes to Cuba, “but that guy would beat the shit out of me, so not gonna happen.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not true. There’s nothing between us but a rotten history.”

“Ha. I saw him react to you this week when most stuff never fazes him. That guy can mow down the fastest quarterback and never miss a beat. You on the other hand, sent him off. Crazy that.”

I shook my head. “He wouldn’t want me there.”

He chuckled. “I do. I think you might be what he needs.” He arched his brows as if I should know what that meant.

“Hmmmm, maybe you missed it, but out in the hall this morning, Emma had her hands all over Cuba. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Forget them. Just come and have fun. If you say yes, I’ll add you to the limo list. Only the sexy people get to ride,” he said, doing a goofy shoulder shimmy.

I laughed. A party sounded like fun.

But wait.

I had a cache of drugs sitting in my dance bag for crying out loud. That was my priority, not Cuba and his party.

“Earth to Dovey. Are. You. Coming. To. The. Dance?”

“Were you not in this room when he went off on me? When he told me I was a curiosity to him? Hello?”

He nodded. “And I saw what his face looked like when you left.”

My breath caught. “How?”

“Like you fucking slayed him.”

Hope sprang up, but I slapped it down.

“Whatever you think you saw—”

“Dovey, he hung his head and wilted right there. I don’t know what happened between you two because I wasn’t at BA then, but he—”

“Yesterday was the anniversary of the day his mom killed herself.”

He straightened up, eyes wide. Apparently he hadn’t known. Or maybe he had but hadn’t realized it was the one year anniversary. It made me like him more.

Because he was the kind of guy people didn’t gossip to.

“And that’s what you saw, okay? Not some left over feeling for me. He made it plain how he feels about me, so let it go.” I put my finger on the poem. “Now, let’s see what happened to this poor albatross, shall we?”

THE REST OF the school day dragged.

The bathroom seemed to be the primo spot to sell drugs, so I hung out there in between classes, often staying long after the bell had rung. If I kept this up, my grades would suffer, and I might even be sent to the Headmaster for all my tardy slips. I cringed to think of how that would look on my transcripts for the ballet company.

In between European History and Calculus, I psyched myself up and approached a senior girl in the bathroom. Rumor was she’d been kicked out of a private school out East for drug use, but had gotten clean and then come to BA. And, here I was, planning on sucking her back into the vortex of addiction.

I waited until the restroom cleared out.

“You wanna buy some blow?” I whispered out of the corner of my mouth as she looked in the mirror above the sink and applied her pink lipstick.

She startled. “What did you say?”

My mouth flapped open and shut as I tried to find the words.

Don’t be a chicken. Just say it. Think of Sarah.

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s wrong with you? You look weird.”

I swallowed. “You—you think it’s gonna snow?”

She shrugged and turned back to the mirror. “I dunno. Maybe. I hope—”

But I didn’t hear the rest because I ran out of that bathroom like I was possessed, dragging my dance bag with me.

“I didn’t want something I needed. I wanted Dovey.”

–Cuba

I’M GOING TO be a father kept banging around in my head like a pinball.

The thought made my hands clammy, and I wiped them on my jeans as I stood in the foyer at BA, waiting for Emma to sign out of school in the office. It was Friday, and she was headed to the OBGYN today to get the official confirmation. But I’d seen the pregnancy test stick she’d shown me.

There was no doubt a baby was coming.

I slumped down in one of the leather chairs and pulled out my phone, grimacing when I saw a message from my dad. He was coming home tonight, which meant I’d be telling him the good news. Hey dad, I know we don’t talk much anymore, but you’re going to be a grandfather. Surprise.

Dovey’s smooth gait caught my attention as she walked down the hall. Dressed in a zebra print skirt and a tight shirt, she passed by the other students, her head bent. I wondered what she was thinking about. Was she remembering the night at her house this week when I’d confessed about Cara? I’d thought about that night a lot, and how good it had felt to have her arms around me. I felt like I couldn’t talk to her right now because of Emma. Fuck. It was frustrating the hell out of me…because we’d crossed a bridge this week, and I wanted to explore it.