“Flashing you the Bat-Signal, dumbass. And it’s friggin’ cute.” My sister laughs, giving me a shove. I stumble a little, my heart pounding in my chest, in my feet, in my tongue. The music isn’t helping. Not at all.

“Go,” my sister shouts behind me, and I do.

I do.

CHAPTER THREE

Jubilee

I FEEL RIDICULOUS holding this balloon, especially when it looks like he’s desperate for an escape hatch, but there’s less than twenty-four hours left at this con, and as much as I’ve been trying to “push my boundaries,” I’m still con-crushless.

As a chronic overachiever, I will not be satisfied unless I check off every box on Jayla’s list. As a chronic worrier, I don’t want to leave any stone unturned on the off chance everyone’s right and my music can be cured by a weekend of costumes, crushes, and tasting food I didn’t even know existed before now.

For a second, Jayla was all “nope, no way, not this one, you can do way better than a skinny white kid in a crappy mask,” but she got on board fast when his sister came over trying to talk him up. Jayla has a soft spot for awkward nerds, even if this one does happen to be a boy.

Plus, Bats is the only person in this entire place who’s made my heart do a somersault. Also, bonus points to him for being bashful.

I pull at a little piece of my hair that came loose and wait for him to make his move. After an eternity, he comes over, practically destroying his lip with his teeth. The fact that he’s so flighty somehow makes this whole interaction seem like more of an accomplishment than it probably should, but I like it.

I say hi, and he says something I can’t hear over the music. I laugh and say, “What?”

He leans in even closer. “I said, ‘Nice balloon.’”

And the way his breath brushes against my neck sends a little spark down to my toes. He smells like clean skin and soap and expensive deodorant that probably doesn’t use half-naked women in its ads. He leans back, and I’m standing there slightly flushed over this good-smelling boy in a cheesy Batman mask. It’s kind of ridiculous. I get a little dizzy off the whiteness of his teeth when he smiles, and all my plans go out the window, replaced by a song instead.

“Dance with me?” I say, or shout, really, over the music. He shakes his head, and I arch an eyebrow, surprised and a little confused. He stares down at his shoes, Checkerboard Old Skool Vans that look brand-new. He doesn’t say anything else, and an awkwardness settles over us until I can’t take it anymore.