“That was before he tried to kiss you.”

“Oh my gosh,” I said, giving in. “He did not try to kiss me, okay? There was no kissing.” Which was the truth. Because after Lucas and Charlotte had placed first in the competition, the five of us had all walked out to the gravel parking lot together, everyone laughing and celebrating. While Patrick and Wes debated over which piece of equipment SPOoKy should use the prize money to invest in, Charlotte and Lucas had gushed together about the other dancers, and how they’d only narrowly won against the couple from Radcliffe.

I had meandered behind everyone, trailing along like a party balloon, content that even though I wasn’t part of the group officially, I officially wasn’t apart from it, either. How would that change after this coming week? After tonight, I felt it was bound to.

“No kissing?” Dad had asked next. “Really?”

“Really,” I promised.

“Huh,” came Dad’s reply. Followed by the infuriating response of “Well, what the heck’s the matter with him?”

Shortly after that, I gathered up a sleepy Charlie, glad Dad had let her stay up to wait for me instead of putting her into her bed. After brushing our teeth, we both retreated to my room, and Charlie, who for better or worse was now becoming accustomed to the new sleeping arrangement, nestled into her usual spot with Checkers.

As I lay next to her, staring at the same old two crisscrossing cracks in my ceiling, I let my mind wander back to my dad’s question.

If Lucas had been given the chance tonight, would he have kissed me? Maybe a better question was if kissing was part of his plans for Friday.

The thought of him leaning down to press his lips softly to mine made my skin tingle. Until, suddenly, my thoughts circled back on themselves, flying in reverse through time to another boy who had tried to kiss me.

Erik.

Would I finally see him tonight? What would I say to him if I did?

I’d have to tell him about me and Lucas. Which probably meant I’d have to tell Lucas about Erik now.

The quiet of the house settled around me, the silence broken only by my sister’s rhythmic breathing. Rolling my head to one side, I eyed the closet door, which I’d made sure to shut before climbing into bed. I willed it to stay that way, simultaneously trying not to think about the figure from my sister’s drawing.

Erik. Two nights ago, he’d tried to tell me something and hadn’t gotten to.

Though he’d also said he shouldn’t have “dared” to come to me again, I had to believe he would still eventually return. He’d already admitted to caring about me. In a weird way that I didn’t fully understand, I guessed I’d come to care about him, too. Enough so that I had meant what I’d said about wanting to help him.

He’d said the music that I’d found was his, alluding also to the fact that he’d physically written it.