Bentley Davis is the biggest asshole on the planet.

I feel so stupid I could die. I could die, right here in the high school gym. My chest is tight and achy underneath the gorgeous pale pink dress my mom and I spent two hours picking out at the mall. Nobody’s noticed the dress. They’re all busy laughing at me.

Tears threaten at the corners of my eyes. It’s a gross hot shame and I hate it. I swallow the lump in my throat and retreat farther back into the corner, watching the multicolored lights from the DJ’s stand soar over the gym.

“Your dress is killer,” someone says off my elbow. It does nothing to dull the pain.

“Thanks.” It’s a dull, quiet response, meant to push them away, but he laughs.

“Sunny, what’s got you down?” His voice is warm and familiar and sexy and oh my god it’s Dayton, over here in this abandoned corner with me.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt it out like an idiot, but he and Wes weren’t coming to the dance.

He laughs again. “That’s some greeting for your favorite person on the planet.”

It makes me laugh too, a silvery happiness unfolding at the center of my rib cage. “Who said you were my favorite person on the planet?”

Day gives me a knowing look. “Don’t say it out loud, Sunny. I know.” He sounds like he’s joking. Is he joking?

I steal a glance at the rest of Dayton and wish I could have a picture of how he looks right now. Dark jeans, tight enough to hug the muscles of his legs, and a white collared shirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. The lights keep landing in his dark hair and flickering away. He looks hot. Hot enough to have a date, which reminds me of my own horribly embarrassing situation. He sees my face fall into a frown. I hope he doesn’t see the surge of tears.

“Hey,” he says. “Are you okay?”

I cross my arms over my chest, clutch in one hand. “Yes. I’m fine.”

He nudges me with an elbow and I’m breathless at the touch. “Tell me the truth.”

If I tell him the truth, I might cry in front of him, and I don’t want to do that. It’s bad enough that everyone in school has seen me standing here. They don’t also need to witness me having a breakdown over a stupid joke, even if I’m the punchline.

But there he is, waiting me out.

I take a shuddering breath. “My date stood me up.” I say it as the music gets loud, a throbbing beat, hurting my ears.

“What?”

“My date stood me up,” I shout just as the song ends and the sound cuts out for one godforsaken instant. Yes. I am going to die here.

Dayton doesn’t hesitate. The DJ is scrambling for another song and in the last gap before the next one Dayton yells, “My date stood me up too!” A few people at the edge of the crowd laugh. One girl grabs her friend’s elbow and points at me. For once, I’m not standing here by myself. I’m standing with Dayton Nash, and the sheer pleasure of it makes me weak in the knees.

The next song starts and I find the courage to step a little closer. “Did your date really stand you up?”

“Nah,” Dayton says, eyes scanning the crowd. “I didn’t have a date. Wes decided he wanted to come at the last minute.”

Even I know what that’s about. “Corinne?”

“Corinne,” he confirms, shooting me a sidelong look. “You think she’s his type?”

I don’t know what to say. Wes scored big when he got Corinne Fletcher to date him. She’s popular. She’s a cheerleader. But to me, she seems cold. Maybe opposites do attract. Although Wes isn’t always nice.

“I don’t know,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t know what my own type is. It’s definitely not Bentley Davis.”

“That prick stood you up?”

“He invited me here.” The lump rises in my throat again. “But he didn’t show up.”

“And then those goons of his probably laughed behind their hands like a bunch of limp-dick assholes.”

“Dayton!” I dissolve into laughter and he follows me. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Listen, Sunny—” I wish he’d stop calling me that. That’s what my family calls me, and I don’t want him to be my family. I want him to be…something else entirely. I also don’t want him to stop talking. “Bentley Davis is a piece of shit with a stupid name.” I snort out loud. He does have a stupid name. “He’s an ass and he doesn’t deserve you. Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”

It might not be so bad to die of happiness. “I—thanks, Day.”

“I mean it.” He looks me in the eye. “You look beautiful tonight, and it’s Bentley’s loss. But you know what?”

“What?” I can’t look away from him. I don’t ever want to look away from him. He’s so tall and handsome and good.

“Boys grow up.” He gestures vaguely at the dance floor. “One day, they’ll be ready for you. Wait for a man, Sunny.”

My heart stops, sings. Wait for a man. The way he’s looking at me, how close he’s standing—could he mean…does he mean…wait for him?

“Nash!” Someone screams his name from the middle of the dance floor and he turns with a smile.

“What?” He shouts back.

They say something unintelligible but he must understand it, because the moment between us breaks into pieces. “Okay,” he answers at the top of his lungs, then turns back to me one more time. “It’ll be all right, Sunny. Go dance. Have some fun. You’ve got time.” He brushes his fingertips against my bare shoulder, sending goosebumps running down the length of my arm, and then he jogs away, into the center of the crowd.

I have a big, ridiculous grin on my face and I can’t catch my breath. I don’t dare think the word love. But thinking of Dayton saying limp-dick assholes makes me laugh again. When the arm comes down around my shoulders, I’m certain it’s him and get ready to look up into his face. He probably came back to make sure I’m fine. Day would do that. I look up mid-laugh, and the sound dies in my throat.

“God, Wes, what are you doing?”

He’s hot and vaguely sweaty. I imagine he and Corinne have been going at it in that crowd of people for as long as he’s been here. Or maybe they’ve been doing something else. Gross.

“How’s my little sister?”

“Fine without you.” I try to disengage from his arm but he holds on tight. “Let me go, Wes.”

“I wanted to chat with you.”

“You never want to chat with me. Go dance with your girlfriend.”

“She’s in the bathroom. Don’t fall in love with him, Sunny.”

“What?”

“Day.” He nods toward Dayton, who’s in and out of view behind all the other people. “He’s not…right for you.”

“I’m not in love with him.”

“Keep it that way, okay?”

“Fine.” I shove him off me again. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t you have anything better to do?”

Wes sticks his hands in his pockets, not looking at me. “I saw you guys talking. I know he’s good-looking.” Now he does meet my eyes. “But there’s something about him that scares me.”

“Who are you?” I’ve never known my brother to be scared of anything. Ever. “He’s your best friend. Stop being weird.”

“He is my best friend,” he admits. “I love the guy. But there’s more than meets the eye. It’s a brotherly warning.”

For a lot of years, I’ve wanted Wes to pay attention to me. Not like this, though. “Thanks.”

Corinne comes up behind him and snakes her arms around his shoulders. She whispers something in his ear and his face lights up. “See you later, Sunny.” She pulls him away. “Go dance!” He yells over his shoulder.

“Ew, Summer, get away from your brother!” Oh, thank god. My best friend has arrived, and even though she’s wearing leather pants and a halter top, she looks incredible. “I’m here. Let’s dance.”

“But you weren’t—I didn’t—”

“Let’s dance.” She grabs my hand and drags me out to the dance floor, and that’s where we stay for the next ninety minutes.

Amy is a good dancer, and I get swept up in her enthusiasm. She finds us a group to dance with and commits, and even as people start leaving, she never wavers.

Then, out of nowhere, Dayton is with her.

She beckons him with one finger and laughs out loud, and because Day is who he is, he plays along, pretending to be reeled in. He has no reason to be in this group—he’s too old, too cool—but he dances like he doesn’t care, his body lithe beneath the jeans and shirts.

I must be beet-red, dancing this close to him, but I’m not going to let it show. No way.

This close to the speakers the music overwhelms everything, so I don’t hear him speak. I only see him reach out for my hand, a welcoming smile on his face, and in light of everything I take it. What could be so bad about dancing with him? There are tons of people around. Everyone’s having fun.

Dayton twirls me into his chest and spins me back out, and just like that, I can dance. He laughs, eyes dancing, and twirls me again. This time, when I’m close, I catch the words most beautiful and a warm, rumbling laughs. A slow dance starts and Day sings along, something about before I met you and he tosses my arms around his neck like they belong there. We sway together for a few beats and then he dances away, hamming it up. I’ve never seen him act this ridiculous but I don’t mind it. It’s making me feel less like crap.

It’s making me high on giggles. I can’t help it.

A hand closes over my wrist, too tight, too strong, and I stop dead. Or at least I try to stop dead. It doesn’t work because Wes is wrenching me to the edge of the crowd, his eyes black with fury. “Did you hear what I said?” he shouts over the music. “Stay away from him.”

Rage like heat lightning crackles over me and I twist my arm from his grasp. “Don’t touch me,” I hiss, hoping he catches every word. “Leave me alone, Wes.”

He tries to block my way back to the dancers. “He’s dangerous.”

“He’s Dayton. Leave me alone.” I shove him, hard, and go past.

“Fine,” Wes shouts after me. “It’s your funeral.” I turn my head as he spins away, back to Corinne. What’s wrong with him? Dayton is his best friend. Why is he being like this?

“Fuck you,” I whisper under my breath. He doesn’t hear me. I didn’t have the courage to say it to his face. Not something so wrong. It still feels good to say it.

There are fifteen minutes left of the dance, and I’m not going to waste a second talking to my asshole of a brother.

I’m back in the group, next to Amy, across from Dayton, when it occurs to me. Maybe I’ll never talk to Wes again. How about that?