Except then the lights dimmed, leaving one bright spotlight on the stage. Suddenly, Declan stepped into the center of it and started strumming his guitar.

I don’t know what the song was. Definitely old-time, something from the fifties, maybe, but he added his own little rockabilly spin on it and sang without his eyes leaving mine. Pretty soon, everyone was staring at me, clapping along and smiling.

When it ended, he jumped from the stage, slid over to me on his knees, grabbed my hands, and gave me a kiss. Everyone cheered.

My jaw was resting on the floor. My first attempts at speaking failed. Finally, as people started to peel their eyes away from us and the applause subsided, I whispered, “That was your surprise?”

After that, I relaxed. My ankle felt better too, so we managed to dance. The food was good, and his friends were silly. Kane never showed up, but I managed to talk to a bunch of girls who didn’t make me feel like the outsider. When the party started to wind down, Declan took me to the revolving doors, and I wavered on my feet. “Um…” I started.

But it was midnight. The party was over, and we were going home. Like any good boy and girl were supposed to do.

Maybe I’d been caught up in the moment. Maybe it was the way he sang to me. But I didn’t want to leave. I watched the others, maybe a little wistfully, hitting the up button for the elevator.

Declan was oblivious. When we got to the truck, he opened the passenger side door and I climbed in. When he kissed me and fastened my seat belt, he asked, “Something wrong?”

“No, I…” I couldn’t tell him. “Nothing.”

“You look like it’s something,” he said as he climbed in next to me.

“Are we going home?” I asked.

He rested his hands on his thighs. “Why? Do you want to go somewhere else?”

I shrugged.

He started up the truck and pulled out, then turned onto the road leading us toward home. I said, “Weird we didn’t see Kane there.”

He laughed. “You mean, not weird, knowing Kane.”

I tittered along with him. “Did you see that? A lot of people were doing that. Getting rooms, I mean.”

He nodded. Then he strained to see out the window. “What way you think is fastest? Route 1 or the turnpike?”

“Oh.” I had no idea. I tried to look like I was helping. “I don’t know. Go Route 1. No tolls.”

He pulled onto Route 1. “Yeah. There won’t be traffic this time of night anyway.”

I decided to try again. “My parents aren’t expecting me home until later. I told them people stay out all night. So we could do something. I mean, I told them I would be with you, so they said all I’d have to do is text.”