I can’t decide if I’m elated or mortified, but at least my head being in a fog makes it easy to ignore the pain of Shannon’s nails digging crescent-shaped valleys into each of my arms. I’m pretty sure they’re drawing blood.

“I was gonna wait until later to ask you, but I’m feeling so good, I can’t wait—Larissa Bogdan, will you go to Homecoming with me?”

Everyone’s eyes are on me as if they were stuck to my painted skin. But the truth is, I’m not shy, and I’ve known since I was twelve what the answer to this question is, even if it took him way too long to ask it.

I wish people would just admit what they want when they want it, I hear Jasmine’s voice rasp in my brain, and without hesitation I yell back “Hell yeah, I will!”

For the millionth time that night, the crowd goes wild.

“I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he says as we walk to his car, his arm wrapped around my waist. It’s a short walk, since he has the spot closest to the school on game nights, but it’s long enough for me to take a good look at his smile and realize that’s only partly true. He likes the idea of making me blush. I wonder if he would’ve preferred if I’d responded shyly instead of in an outburst. But he doesn’t exactly look disappointed either.

He looks … like he is really, really into me.

“You didn’t,” I assure him, and I’m pretty sure it’s true. “I’m excited to go to Homecoming with you. I was hoping you’d ask tonight.”

“Even before I had the game of my life?”

I laugh. “Did you think you needed to in order to convince me to go with you?”

“No, but I figured it couldn’t hurt,” he says with a grin. We get to his car and he presses me against it and leans down to kiss me, his mouth sweet with the taste of Gatorade.

Whistles and catcalls sound around us as we make out against his car, exactly as I’ve always pictured, and it’s weird and amazing and confusing to have it all come to life. But even the handle pressed against my back has figured into my daydreams, and it’s prepped me for the discomfort.

I want to feel everything.

Chase does not quite share that desire. “I’m sorry,” he says, pulling away, “but this is killing my neck. You kinda take ‘shorty’ to a whole new level.”

“Hey, I’m a full five feet, thank you very much.”