He scoffed playfully. “Hardly.”
I realized that with our focus on helping Johnny and the Center, we hadn’t caught up much on the more mundane details of Deck’s life. It was a metaphor for our relationship that I knew about his soul-crushing inertia due to blaming himself for the past, but not what his favorite restaurant was or whether he went hiking on the weekends. How had he come to start a construction business? Did he enjoy living in Mountlake Terrace?
He lived alone, but did he…date?
The thought of Deck having a relationship sat in my stomach like a brick. But I didn’t know what to do with that feeling. Acknowledging any sort of romantic interest in him would be a huge step, affecting not just us, but my brother, our families, and the Center. And even though my life had changed drastically in the past two months, I hadn’t completely abandoned the caution that kept me sane for a dozen years. But regardless of where we were headed, my pull to him was as intense as ever. I wanted to know him more.
Stationed near the food tables, he watched the kids on the dance floor with his arms crossed.
I came up beside him and grabbed a cookie. “What would you be doing tonight if you weren’t here looking like a bouncer?”
He chuckled, dropping his arms to hook his thumbs into his belt loops. “Honestly? I’d probably be home watching TV. I’m usually cashed on Fridays after the stuff Juan and I do all week.” Glancing at me, he added pointedly, “I almost never go out. Sometimes we go to this bar, Tubby’s, to watch a game or whatever, and I visit my family, but that’s about it.”
I nodded in answer.
“What would you do?” he asked. “If you weren’t here, I mean.”
I kept my gaze on the kids as I replied, “Same as you. TV probably. Or reading. Scrolling on my phone. On Sundays, I usually have brunch with my best friends, but that’s about the extent of my social life. I used to work a lot on weekends.” I turned to him. “But now that everything’s changing for me, I’m thinking about trying new things.”
“That so?”
“Yeah. I—”
“Oh my gosh, you guys, I’m so annoyed!” Marisol rushed up beside us. “I keep catching the girls in the bathroom trying to change their outfits. Two of them were practically naked.”
I shook my head, snickering. “Guess nothing has changed, huh? I remember girls in high school would put on the outfits their moms approved of to leave the house, but immediately go into the bathroom before homeroom to sex things up. Switch out leggings for short shorts or take off a sweatshirt to show off a tight tank top. Not to mention all the makeup and perfumy body lotions.”
“Don’t belittle my pain, Cori,” Marisol groaned. “Poor Chuck is monitoring the hallways and dark corners for things that would definitely not be mom-approved.”
“I know it’s tough to supervise, but on the bright side, the kids seem to be having a good time,” I said.
“They really are,” Marisol agreed. “This is the best turnout we’ve had for a late night in years. I have to admit I was nervous when you suggested a dance. I thought the kids might think it was corny or want to hang out on the edge of the gym all night.”
Her words warmed me. The kids might be enjoying themselves, but there was no way they were happier than I was, watching them laugh and goof around with their friends.
Deck turned to grab a taco from the table. “What I’m loving are these tacos. I thought you were just gonna grab some cheap pizzas, but these are amazing.”
“That was the original plan,” I said. “Then I remembered Rosa telling me about this truck parked near the elementary school that makes tacos almost as good as hers, and I figured it would be cool to support a local business with a huge catering order.” Not to mention the satisfaction of finally having a real taco at an event. Even if it was only a teen dance. I grinned, imagining the Center kids eating cauliflower tortillas and steak tartare.
“What’s that smile on your face?” Deck asked.
“Nothing. Just happy to be here.”
The three of us resumed watching the kids. It seemed like no matter what music played or at what tempo—Olivia Rodrigo orBillie Eilish or J. Cole—they saw it as an opportunity to grind on one another.
“It’s amazing what passes for dancing nowadays,” Deck observed.
“Sorry, Grandpa, but I think it was the same when we were kids,” I countered. Though I’d attended exactly one dance in high school, so I couldn’t say for sure.
“Nah. There were at least a few times when we turned around and faced each other or danced in a group.” He frowned at the couple nearest us, the girl moving her butt against the boy’s zipper. Not even in time with the music.
“I do feel slightly cheated,” I joked. “Early 2000s teen romcoms and TikTok have led me to expect more synchronized dancing.”
“Should I get them to tone it down a smidge? Tell them to make room for Jesus?” Marisol smirked.
I chuffed.
“Seriously, you couldn’t fit a piece of paper between those two,” Deck grumbled.
