That was true, he did. All Mags could think to say now was, “What?”

Noel groaned.

“I don’t like to dance,” she said.

“You don’t like to dance in front of people,” he said.

“That’s true.”

“Just a minute.” Noel sighed and ran downstairs. “Don’t go anywhere,” he shouted up to her.

“I never go anywhere!” she shouted back.

She heard the song start over.

Then Noel was running back up the stairs. He stood on the step below her and held up his hands. “Please.”

Mags sighed and lifted up her hands. She wasn’t sure what to do with them . . .

Noel took one of her hands in his and put her other hand on his shoulder, curling his arm around her waist. “Jesus Christ,” he said, “was that so hard?”

“I don’t know why this is so important to you,” she said. “Dancing.”

“I don’t know why it’s so important to you,” he said. “Not to dance with me.”

She was a little bit taller than him like this. They were swaying.

Alicia’s mom came down the stairs. “Hey, Mags. Hey, Noel—how’s Notre Dame?”

Noel pulled Mags closer to let Mrs. Porter squeeze by. “Good,” he said.

“You guys really fell asleep against Michigan.”

“I’m not actually on the football team,” Noel said.

“That’s no excuse,” Mrs. Porter said.

Noel didn’t loosen his grip after Alicia’s mom was past them. His arm was all the way around Mags’s waist now, and their stomachs and chests were pressed together.

They’d touched a lot, over the years, as friends. Noel liked to touch. Noel hugged. And tickled and pulled hair. Noel pulled people into his lap. He apparently kissed anyone who raised their eyebrows at him on New Year’s Eve . . .

But Noel had never held Mags like this.

Mags had never felt his belt buckle in her hip. She’d never tasted his breath.

Mrs. Porter came back up the stairs, and Noel held Mags even tighter.

“A Thousand Years” began again.

“Did you tell somebody to start it over?” Mags asked.

“I put it on repeat,” he said. “They’ll stop it when they notice.”

“Was this on the Twilight soundtrack?”

“Dance with me, Mags.”

“I am,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

“Okay.” Mags had been holding herself rigid, so that she’d still be standing upright, even if Noel let go. She stopped that now. She relaxed into his grip and let her arm slide over his shoulder. She touched the back of his hair again because she wanted to—because it was still missing.

“You don’t like it,” he said.

“I do like it,” she said. “It’s different.”

“You’re different.”

Mags made a face that said, You’re crazy.

“You are,” Noel said.

“I’m exactly the same,” she said. “I’m the only one who’s the same.”