“Oh good.” She looks relieved. “Because, I don’t know about you, but I plan on dancing.”

She lets go of me and shimmies goofily as she pulls open the door to the school. Crap, was I supposed to do that? Get the door? She doesn’t seem bothered by my lack of chivalry; she’s smiling at me, the concern melting into soft, lukewarm liquid, and I try to put Adam out of my mind. Caitlin’s great. She’s witty and smart and clearly gets that I’m out of my element. This is going to be fun.

This is not fun.

I’m trying to be a good date—dance and talk with Caitlin, smile at her friends—but there are just too many people feeling too many things and I lose focus every other minute. I’m about to escape to the bathroom to sit in silence for a few minutes when someone calls out my name.

“Michaels! How the hell are you, my man?”

I turn to see Henry swaggering toward me. He reaches out a hand, pulling me into a completely unnecessary handshake like we’re old school chums who are running into each other at a ten-year reunion. God, this guy is such a tool.

“Hey, Henry.” I grimace as he claps me on the shoulder with his free hand. I take a moment to look him over as I adjust to his feelings. He’s wearing a well-fitted suit, his blond hair perfectly slicked back, an insufferably smarmy expression on his face. Everything about him is slimy. His feelings slither into my body and make me restless.

“So, you gonna get with that or what?” he whispers, jerking his head toward Caitlin, who’s dancing and laughing with Jessica as I get punch for us. My eyebrows reach toward the top of my forehead as I give Henry my best blank stare. I don’t want to play this game with him. The moment I start to go along with it, it will become harder to keep his feelings at bay.

“We’re just friends,” I reply, hoping that will end this conversation. But Henry smirks and tilts his head at me as if to say, Oh really? There are phantom bugs crawling over my skin that I recognize as Henry trying to get something. It’s the same sensation I feel whenever he’s making excuses for skipping practice or getting an extension on a project—the bugs start crawling and a second later he’s smirking at our coach or our teacher and they’re apologizing to him.