Page 23 of Lance

“Well, that’s how I see you. I’msorry.”

It feels like a long time before I can find my voice. “You see me as akid.”

He must see something in my face, because his expression changes from stern to sympathetic. Maybe even pitying. And I think that might be a whole lotworse.

“Look, Willa. You don’t want to get mixed up with a guy like me, okay?” That sheepish smile again. Somehow it doesn’t seem so charming now. “You have so much going for you. You should hear the way that James talks about you! All that shit you do at school, the science and the books and everything—that’s so not me. Don’t you want to find someone that, you know, you have more in commonwith?”

I’m not sure how I manage to get the words out over a throat that has gone completely dry. “There’s more to me than what I do atschool.”

He doesn’t bother to try to hide the skepticism on his face. “Well, sure. But…come on, Willa. This is so not your scene.” He waves his hands a little, as if to encompass the entire room. The music and the drinking, the dancing, people having fun. “You just had a little too much to drink tonight. But you’re not this girl.” He reaches out to squeeze my shoulder and there are no sparks, not anymore. It’s not a flirty touch, not something I would ever tell Nia about in giggling excited whispers. He touches me the way you might touch a little sister, an overly emotional kid. Someone you have no interest in. Achild.

“I’m sorry about before,” he continues. “I really am. I never would have bothered you like that if I realized who you were. Let’s just forget about it,okay?”

So that’s that, then. And I should have known, really. Of course a guy like Lance would never look at me the way I want him to. And it’s not just because I’m his friend’s little sister. It’s because of who Iam. Because of the way that everyone—from my family to my professors to the kids at school—sees me. Because of the way that Lance seesme.

You’re not thisgirl.

He’s saying something else, something about finding James and Nia, but I barely notice over the rushing sound in my ears. And when he places his hand at my back to guide me across the room to find the others, I’m too numb to even feel it. All I can hear, over and over in my head, are hiswords.

You’re not thisgirl.

He’s right. Of course he’s right. Haven’t I been pretending all night? First with the clothes and the makeup, then with the drinking and flirting. I mean, I flat out told this guy I wanted to hook up. Another wave of embarrassment crashes over me. Who does something like that? Certainly notme.

I should just try to pretend like none of it ever happened, like Lance had said. Go back to my normal life of constantstudying.

And loneliness, a voice in my head whispers.And always feeling sick from the pressure, constantly tired. Constantlyscared.

Somehow we wind up in a group that includes Haylee and the band’s guitarist, Dylan. Lance says something to them, gives me another terrible shoulder pat, and then leaves again. Probably off to find some other girl. Someone who he might actually be attracted to. Someone who belongshere.

“Hey,” Haylee says, and I’m vaguely aware of her leaning down to peer in my face. “Youokay?”

“Sure,” I sayautomatically.

But it’s not true. I don’t know exactly what’s wrong, but I’m definitely not okay. Some weight of fear and disappointment is dragging on me. Confusing me. I can’t think straight, and I’m sure it’s not just the alcohol. My thoughts feel hazy, sluggish. And for me, the girl who relies on her intellect to get her through everything, there’s nothing morefrightening.

“Yousure?”

“Yeah.” Somehow I manage a smile as I lie through my teeth. “I’mfine.”