We’re halfway to the front doors of the school when Leland steps in front of me, stopping my progress by gripping both my shoulders.

  “Say the word and we’ll turn around right now and go back to the car,” he says. “We can drive around for a while or go somewhere for dinner. We could head to the movie theater, fill up on candy and popcorn, and forget about everything for a couple of hours.”

  His words have the effect of finally snapping me from my self-centered haze. “No, Leland. Absolutely not. I lo—” I clamp my mouth shut around the word. I was about to say ‘I love you for being so thoughtful’. Where did that come from?

  I suck in a deep breath, and Leland’s hands tighten on my shoulders. “I appreciate your offer, but I know how much you care about Coach Black, and it’s a big deal that you were asked to give a speech tonight. I won’t take that away from you.”

  Leland glances over his shoulder at the school. When he turns back, the same concern is still etched on his face. On impulse, I throw my arms around him. He lets out a soft sound of surprise as he wraps his arms around me. I expect him to ask questions, but he simply holds me close, one hand moving over my back through my coat.

  “I’m being ridiculous,” I say. “It’s just a building. I had three mostly good years here, but for that one, awful year…it felt like a prison. A reminder of my old life and all I’d lost.”

  Leland’s hold on me loosens as if he means to pull away. I grip him tighter, not ready for the contact to end, and afraid he’ll see the tears swimming in my eyes.

  “You’re not being ridiculous, Stella.” His voice is soft and soothing, and his hand is moving over my back once more. “High school is hard for a lot of people, and that year must have been hellish for you.”

  It was. Once I was mobile again, I begged my parents to homeschool me the way Louisa’s dad was doing with her. They gently refused, asserting that I needed to return to school and some semblance of normalcy. There was no normalcy, though. I became an oddity, a curiosity. Everyone seemed to know what had happened, and there were both whispers and comments directly to my face about the accident, my weight gain, my limp, the scars on my face and arm from where the shattered car window had sliced into my skin. I hated nearly everyone and everything that year, including myself and my forever-changed body.

  I pull away from Leland when a tear slips down my cheek. I dash it away quickly, not wanting to ruin the makeup Evie helped me with. She picked out my outfit too; she thought I should splurge on something new, but I balked at the idea. I donated a huge chunk of my wardrobe before moving back to Bellevue, since most of my clothes consisted of bland pieces Lars helped pick out and were therefore things I never wanted to wear again. I kept a few things, though, like the black palazzo pants and pale coffee-colored blouse Evie selected for me to wear tonight. Despite the subdued color palette, the clothes are well made and comfortable, and I feel confident in them. Or at least as confident as I can be when returning to a place I’d hoped to never see the inside of again.

  “Ugh, I’m a mess.” I flap my hands in front of my face to stop the tears. “And don’t try to be nice by saying I’m not.”

  Leland catches my fluttering hands. “You, Stella McGrath, are not a mess. But if you are a mess, you’re my mess.”

  Stunned speechless, I let Leland lace his fingers with mine and lead me the rest of the way to the doors of the school. We meet a group of people who know Leland and engage him in conversation. Their timing is perfect because it means I’m able to focus on them instead of glancing around as we make our way to the gym, where the banquet is being held. We drop our coats off in the makeshift cloak room—a large sporting supply closet that’s been cleared out for the night—and go in search of our table.

  “Oh, the universe really does have a funny sense of humor,” Leland says quietly.

  I peer past him to see what’s caught his attention. We’ve nearly reached our table, which is already full except for two empty seats. Sitting in one of the occupied seats is none other than Nelle Bryant. Of course.

  Leland’s hand tightens around mine. “Ready to put on a show?”

  His words make me imagine things couples would naturally do in a public setting: hold hands, look at each other adoringly, speak softly into each other’s ears…kiss. That last one lights me up more than it should. “Ready.”

  *****

  “Do you remember Popples?” Leland asks suddenly.

  We’ve just been served the entrée portion of dinner. For the past half hour, Leland has randomly mentioned Fraggle Rock—“Not that I watched it; I was more of a Muppet Babies guy myself, but ‘Fraggle Rock’ is fun to say, isn’t it?”—along with Pound Puppies, Rainbow Brite, and Astro Boy.

  “My sister was obsessed,” he continues without giving me a chance to respond. “She had Popples books, posters, a t-shirt, and even a sleeping bag. I mean, that was nothing compared to her boy band phase a few years later. I much preferred walking into her room and having a bunch of Popples stare back at me than all the scowly teenage boys.”

  “Are you drunk?” I ask, glancing at his half-full glass of beer.

  “No, Stella, I’m not drunk.” He delivers the words in a deadpan tone. “I am the walrus.” He leans in, his breath tickling my face as he whispers, “Coo-coo-ca-choo.”

  I’ve managed to stifle my laughter through the last half hour of Leland’s unhinged ramblings, but I can’t do it any longer. Giggles spill out of me until tears spring to my eyes. Leland chuckles softly beside me, his hand planted on the center of my back.

  “What on earth has gotten into you?” I ask.

  His gaze slides across the table, and I follow it to see Nelle watching us. For some inexplicable reason, she’s barely spoken a word to us since we arrived. That hasn’t stopped her from watching us, though, which she’s doing again now, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  Leland leans forward to recapture my attention. “Felicity has been talking about a retro toy line for the store. Stuff from the ’60s through the ’90s. You have to admit, it’s been a good distraction.” He nudges me gently with his elbow. “And besides, I like seeing you try not to laugh and then lose it to the point you have trouble stopping.”

  I’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Leland’s silliness has been for my benefit, and it’s worked. I feel steadier and my heart rate has mostly returned to normal. I can’t help but think the slight elevation in its natural rhythm is no longer caused by nerves, but rather the proximity and thoughtfulness of the gorgeous man beside me.

  “Thank you,” I say, hoping he understands it’s a blanket sentiment. His smile softens and he nods, his hand slipping from my back so he can return to his meal. I do the same.

  “What are all the colorful streaks on your hand?” he asks after a while.

  I’ve been trying to keep my right hand hidden in my lap all night, but that’s impossible to do while I eat. Those markers Evie bought yesterday didn’t exactly live up to the promise of being washable, and I now look like a child who’s gotten into the art supplies.

  “It’s marker,” I murmur. “Evie and I were…coloring yesterday.”

  I’m not sure what kind of reaction I expect, but it’s not the simple nod he gives. “Oh. That sounds like fun. I thought maybe it was some new trend I wasn’t aware of. Like temporary tattoos of some sort.”

  As I laugh again and a pleased smile blossoms on Leland’s face, the room narrows down to just the two of us. It doesn’t matter that Nelle is sitting across the table. It doesn’t matter that this thing between Leland and me started out as an act. This isn’t an act. Part of my brain tries to convince me otherwise, but there’s no faking the genuine affection growing between us. Even if, in Leland’s case, it’s only the kind of affection that comes from friendship.

  *****

  The room fills with applause, and I swear my clapping is the loudest of all. Leland has just delivered a moving speech in Coach Black’s honor, talking about how the man was both mentor and friend, tough and yet soft when necessary, and how he led by example with his kindness, passion, and hard work.

  From the stage, Leland makes a beeline for Coach Black’s table, where he embraces the older man and talks to him for several minutes. Normally, the next speech would begin immediately, but they’re spacing them out so people have a chance to mingle in between. As soon as Leland moves away from Coach, other people hop up from their seats to shake his hand, clap him on the back, and engage him in conversation. This night is going to be endless.

  When Leland finally makes it back to our table, he flops into his chair and releases a sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “I’m glad that’s over with. How’d I do?”

  “You were fantastic. I recorded the whole thing for your mom and sister.” And myself, as something to remember this strange and wonderful night when Leland and I go back to being just friends.

  He flashes me a quick grin. “Great. Are you ready to get out of here?”

  “But there are more speeches. And dancing. And I heard something about a dessert table later?”

  “Yes, all of that is still to come. Does that mean you want to stay?”

  “No, but I don’t want you to miss any of it. Your old classmates and teammates have clearly loved seeing you, so I’d hate to pull you away. Plus I’m sure Coach wants to talk to you more.”

  “I met up with Coach one day last week for lunch and we made plans to catch a game together someday soon,” Leland says. “But if you want to listen to another hour of speeches and mingle with all these people…”

  “No,” I say quickly. “I mean, only if you do. I don’t want you to think you have to or should leave early because of me. I promise I’m willing to stay for the whole thing.”

  “I appreciate that.” He glances around again and then leans closer to me, beckoning me forward and dropping his voice. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. When I thought I’d be coming alone, I planned to leave right after my speech. I actually wasn’t even sure if I’d come for the dinner portion. Having you here has made it bearable, but I’d honestly rather leave than stay. We’d still have time to catch a late movie if you wanted. I’d buy you whatever candy you like to make up for missing the dessert table.”

  I laugh under my breath. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

  We stand in unison and Leland takes my hand. Thankfully, people are milling around and it should be easy to slip out unnoticed. We grab our coats from the cloakroom and keep our gazes straight ahead as we make our way through the gym doors. I veer toward the exit, but Leland guides me in the opposite direction, further into the school.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “I just want to see something.” We duck under a rope that’s been erected between the hall that leads to the gym and the rest of the school.

  “Won’t we get in trouble?” My voice is a breathless whisper as I hurry to keep up with Leland’s quick strides. We move further down the darkened hall, past the bank of lockers and the hallways that branch off with rows of classrooms.

  “What are they going to do to us?” Leland asks, his voice echoing slightly in the eerie silence of the hallway.

  As we near the end of the rows of lockers, I realize where we’re going. My suspicion is confirmed when Leland turns to the left and pushes through a set of double doors into the cafeteria. The space is faintly lit from the street lights shining in through the wall of windows on the far side. While the hallways felt oddly smaller to me than they did all those years ago, the cafeteria still feels vast. I’ve never seen it empty like this before. Even though I mostly spent time here during my free period, there were always other students around.

  Leland inspects the light switches along the wall and finally seems to pick one at random. A row of fluorescent lights flickers on overhead.

  “The jukebox is gone,” he says.

  “There’s one in the back room of the diner.” I move farther into the room and spin in a slow circle. “If you play your cards right, I’m sure Bea will let us in there some night. She’ll probably even give us cookies.”

  “It’s a date.” Leland shoots me a smile as he crosses the room to the table we always used to sit at. I hesitate before following him and sliding onto the bench seat across from him. I continue to look around the room, not that there’s much to see. When my gaze settles on Leland, he’s watching me with an unreadable expression.

  “I thought about you often during my first year of university,” he says. “I asked Wes about you once in a while. Tried to make it seem casual so he wouldn’t wonder why I wanted to know.”

  His words shock me more than if he’d told me he never gave me a second thought once he left Bellevue. That would be more in line with what I’d expected: for him to have mostly forgotten about me other than the few times we ran into each other when we were both in town, usually around the holidays. He always seemed pleased to see me, but that’s just how Leland is. Once or twice he suggested Wesley and I join him some night for a drink, but it never happened.

  Leland rests his hands on the table, palms up. It’s an invitation I’m powerless to refuse. And why would I? Holding Leland’s hands has become second nature, whether we’re alone or in a crowded room.

  I place my hands in his and he smiles as his fingers close around mine. He rubs his thumbs over my fingers, lingering on the colorful marks on my right hand.

  “I keep replaying what you told me that one night about how you felt the color was leached out of you during your marriage,” he says. “I hate thinking of you unhappy and feeling like you had to hide your true self. I’m glad returning to Bellevue has brought color back into your life. You, Stella McGrath, are meant to be appreciated in Technicolor.”

  I stare at Leland in silence, completely lost for words. He seems to understand, as he always does, because he simply continues to play with my fingers. All his silliness from earlier has faded away, leaving this moment feeling weighty. The silence presses in around us, and I nearly startle when he speaks again.

  “I wanted to kiss you back then,” he says. “In high school.”

  I wait for him to crack a smile or laugh to let me know he’s joking. He doesn’t. “Oh please,” I say, injecting a teasing note into my voice. “You did not.”

  His earnest expression doesn’t change. “I did.”

  He’s not kidding. That weighty feeling returns, making the air feel thick. Head spinning, I struggle to draw in a breath. “We’ve been reliving our high school days lately, right? Doing things differently, taking chances, healing past wounds.” I pause and he nods once, his eyes narrowed slightly. “So kiss me now.”

  Leland swallows audibly. “Won’t that…complicate things?”

  “I think it’s a bit late for that, don’t you? We’ve been blurring lines all over the place.”

  Leland nods again. “We should probably talk about that, don’t you think?”

  I lift one shoulder. “I suppose that would be the mature thing to do. But considering you were the one whispering sweet nothings about Fraggle Rock and Popples in my ear less than an hour ago, I think we can forget about maturity for tonight. Let’s be Teenage Leland and Stella for this moment. Teenage Stella wouldn’t believe for a second that Teenage Leland—popular, hot, liked by all—would ever even think about kissing her.”

  Leland leans across the table and my body automatically does the same, as if we’re two magnets being drawn together. He’s near enough for me to feel his warm breath on my face, but he doesn’t move closer.

  “Guess I’d better prove her wrong then.”

  I close my eyes and wait for his lips to meet mine. Instead, the air grows cooler as he moves away. Disappointment swoops through me, coupled with embarrassment. Eyes still closed, I listen as his soft footfalls come around the table and stop behind me. Something brushes my arm, and my eyes fly open to see his hand held out, waiting.

  He helps me climb off the bench, shifting me so we’re face to face. My hands grip his shoulders as his hands cup my cheeks, his thumbs moving in a barely-there caress. His breath ghosts over my face again and my eyes close involuntary, even as I pray I won’t be disappointed this time.

  Leland’s lips touch mine for the briefest of seconds. My grip on his shoulders tightens and I lift up on my toes, pressing closer. His lips return to mine, the gentle slide soon turning into a kiss I can feel in every inch of my body.

  I melt against him. His hands move from my face so he can wrap his arms around me, drawing me closer. This kiss is different from our other kisses. There was passion in that first experimental kiss, and then a sort of innocence in the sweet, cinnamon-flavored kiss we shared just last night. This one is slow but thorough, gentle yet insistent. It makes my knees wobble and my head swim. We’re both breathless when our lips part.

  “Wow.” I only realize I whispered the word out loud when Leland leans his forehead against mine and his quiet laughter tickles my skin.

  “Yeah. Wow.”

  Across the room, the doors open and another row of fluorescent lights flicker on. “You kids can’t be in here,” a security guard says, his voice echoing in the large room.

  Leland straightens, slipping his hand into mine. “Sorry. We were just leaving.”

  We put our coats on as we head back through the school to the front doors. The security guard’s heavy footsteps ring out as he trails behind us, likely following to ensure we actually leave.

  Leland makes a strange, choked sound, and I side-eye him. His shoulders are vibrating as he unsuccessfully holds back laughter. “He called us ‘kids’,” he whispers.

  “Seems fitting,” I say around a giggle.

  “Tonight wasn’t so bad, was it? Being back here?”

  “No. Not so bad at all.” In fact, I think I made a new favorite memory tonight at Bellevue Secondary School, something I never thought I’d ever want, let alone have a chance to do. It doesn’t erase the things that happened here all those years ago, but I don’t need to dwell on the past. Especially when the present and future look so bright. Confusing, but bright.