Chapters (46)
- Tyler was gasping, coughing, his hands on the pavement.
- Title Page
- Table of Contents
- Dedication
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER 1
- CHAPTER 2
- CHAPTER 3
- CHAPTER 4
- CHAPTER 5
- CHAPTER 6
- CHAPTER 7
- CHAPTER 8
- CHAPTER 9
- CHAPTER 10
- CHAPTER 11
- CHAPTER 12
- CHAPTER 13
- CHAPTER 14
- CHAPTER 15
- CHAPTER 16
- CHAPTER 17
- CHAPTER 18
- CHAPTER 19
- CHAPTER 20
- CHAPTER 21
- CHAPTER 22
- CHAPTER 23
- CHAPTER 24
- CHAPTER 25
- CHAPTER 26
- CHAPTER 27
- CHAPTER 28
- CHAPTER 29
- CHAPTER 30
- CHAPTER 31
- CHAPTER 32
- CHAPTER 33
- CHAPTER 34
- CHAPTER 35
- CHAPTER 36
- BEYOND THE STORY
- AFTERWORD
- SECRET PLAYLIST
- Copyright Page
Gabriel didn’t look away. “I’m sorry.” He paused. “Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?”
Nick nodded. “Okay.”
He expected Gabriel to hug him, but his brother whipped out his phone and started texting.
Nick watched his fingers fly across the screen. “What are you doing?”
“Telling Hunter to get everyone down here. Aren’t Adam and Quinn up soon?”
“Yes—but they’ll never get here in time—”
“Sure they will. They’re waiting in the back of the auditorium.”
“Waiting—what?”
Gabriel finished his message and looked up. “Oh, you didn’t think I was coming alone to support your new boyfriend, did you?”
Quinn stood beside Adam and peeked around the corner of the curtain, looking for Nick.
She saw the crowd of people and went rigid. “Holy crap,” she whispered. “He brought everyone.”
Adam was taking long, slow breaths, watching the dancers before them. “Everyone?”
“Everyone,” she breathed. “I told Becca and her mom not to come. But this . . . this is everyone.”
All of Nick’s brothers. Michael’s girlfriend. Layne, and her little brother, Simon. Becca and Hunter. Becca’s mother, who’d even brought Quinn’s little brother.
But not Tyler.
Well, of course not. He and the Merricks hadn’t magically become friends. Firing a gun didn’t erase years of hatred.
And it wasn’t like Tyler had reached out to her, even after Mrs. Chandler had told Quinn about his phone call.
Maybe he saw it as just finishing a good deed and stepping aside.
Adam was fidgeting, smoothing the adhesive number against his shirt for the zillionth time.
Quinn put her hands over his. “You’re amazing. You’ve got this.”
“You’re amazing,” he said back. “Thank you for doing this for me.”
She lost her smile. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Then the emcee called his number and their music began.
Once the beat caught her, Quinn felt like her world exploded into color. She knew this routine; her muscles had memorized each leap, each turn, each step, but today everything felt new and fresh, as if the music and the crowd added power to their dance.
Adam’s hands were strong, catching her perfectly each time, and she matched his height, leap for leap. For the first time, she appreciated the power in her body, reveled in the muscles and the curves and the lines. When Adam did the complicated twist where she went airborne before twirling into his arms, the crowd whooped and whistled. When the music and drums reached a crescendo and he spun her so fast she thought she’d take flight, Adam caught her in midair, right on the beat, and froze.
Silence, for a second. Then the auditorium erupted in applause.
The center judge leaned into her microphone and said, “Thank you.”
Adam set her on her feet and kissed her on her cheek. “You were amazing.”