“Yes.”
“I should have asked before I entered us.”
“Yes. You really should have.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know why you did it.”
His eyes shone under the ballroom lights. “I just wanted them to see you the way I do.”
“I love that,” I said. “But next time you want me to stand in front of a room, ask me if my legs are ready.”
He let out a shaky laugh. “Deal.”
The DJ started a slow song.
Noah held out his hand. “May I dance with Prom Court royalty?”
This time, when we walked to the center of the dance floor, people still watched. But the phones were lower. The laughter was gone.
Noah pulled me closer.
“Are you okay?” he whispered.
I thought about lying.
Then I chose the truth.
“Not completely,” I said. “But I’m still here.”
His hand tightened gently around mine.
“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”
I’d walked into prom hoping nobody would laugh.
I left knowing laughter wasn’t the loudest sound in the room.
