“Psst!” Mia pops her head inside the room.
She’s lucky Mr. Meyer isn’t here, otherwise he’d combust.
“What’re you doing here?” I grin, turning to another musician. “Tell Mr. Meyer I’ll be right back if he comes looking for me.”
He grunts like he doesn’t give a shit whether I come back at all, until he looks up, and his eyes almost pop out of their sockets at Mia’s low-cut neon pink top.
“Mr. Meyer will freak out if anyone else disturbs our preparations,” I explain, grabbing her hand and tugging her down the corridor. “I didn’t think you were coming tonight.”
“And miss this?” She shakes her head. “I have to be there for your big moment. It’s not every day your best friend is about to steal the show.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “And you hate classical music, remember?” For someone whose mom is a legend, Miahasn’t inherited her love for it. “I’m closing the show, so you’ll be waiting a while.”
“I’ll be here for ages anyway,” she says. “Principal Wire convinced my mom to come as a guest of honor to impress the scouts. I told her to put in a good word for you.”
“We both know my dad wants me to focus on academics, remember?”
“You can be whatever you want to be,” she says. If only it were that simple. “You’ve worked so hard, and I’ve hardly seen you while you’ve been slaving away in the practice room. I want to be here to support you.”
“Hey, Erin!” Nate calling down the hall startles me.
“It looks like I’m not the only one who came to support you.” Mia nudges me playfully. “Break a leg!”
She slips away before Nate reaches me. His crisp white shirt and smart gray pants make him look like a magazine model. I smooth down my black dress that Mom insisted was fitting for the occasion. It has long, lacey sleeves, and a scalloped neckline. Apparently, it’s very ‘French chic’, whatever that means.
“Hey,” I say, smiling nervously. “If you’re looking for the football field, it’s that way.” I point behind him.
“Funny,” he says. “My mom dragged me here to ‘become more cultured’. I was about to bail until I saw your name. I didn’t realize you played piano.”
“Uh-huh. Ever since I was five years old,” I say. “But I don’t blame you if you want to disappear at the intermission. An evening of Bach and Mozart is a lot for anyone.”
“Even a football player can branch out from time to time,” he says with his lopsided, dimpled grin that makes girls’ knees go weak. “What other talents are you hiding? Every time we talk, I learn something else.”
Nate’s probably used to saying that line hundreds of times, but I can’t deny that it feels good to be noticed. He’s chosen to seek me out. That has to mean something.
“I’m really not that interesting.”
He arches an eyebrow. “So, you’re not hiding any dark secrets that I should know about?”
“If I told you, they won’t be secrets anymore,” I say.
He chuckles and scratches his chiseled chin. “There is something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Nervous butterflies flutter in my stomach.
“I’m not allowed to date during the football season, but I wondered if you’d like to go to the Harvest Ball together? You know, as a non-date date.”
“Um…” I hesitate. Like Nate’s parents, Dad sees dating as an unwelcome distraction. However, if we’re not technically going as a couple, it doesn’t break any of his rules. “As a non-date date? Sure.”
“Great.” His face lights up, then he shrugs it off and acts casual again. “I mean, cool. That’d be cool.”
“Erin!” Mr. Meyer’s frantic voice reaches me like a ringing cowbell. “Erin! Where are you? I need you!”
“I won’t keep you,” Nate says, his eyes twinkling. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” I reply. As he turns to leave, I call after him. “Oh, and, Nate? Thanks for the flowers.”
“Flowers?” His brow crinkles in obvious confusion. “What flowers?”
