10 Years Later

Senior dinner had been a tradition at our school for as long as anyone could remember. Each year on this night, the seniors were served a three-course dinner by parents who volunteered. Really, how was this different from any other night—our own mothers feeding us dinner? How original.

After dinner, the lights were dimmed and a slideshow clicked on, flipping through pictures of the seniors as it moved through each captured moment in perfectly timed precision. There were photos of pep rallies, class games on the quad, groups of friends smiling, senior night, Football for Seniors, etc.

I’d been staring up at the photos as Kristy’s voice broke through. “The eagle has landed,” she’d whispered to me.

I turned to look at her. “The eagle has . . . what?”

“The eagle has landed. I’m going to say that every time Dalton looks at you,” she said seriously in a low voice.

“He’s looking at me?” I sat up straighter and fought the urge to search him out.

“He’s been looking at you all night.”

I nudged her shoulder. “Well, that’s weird, right?”

She nodded. “Kinda.”

“Why do you think he’s looking at me?” I whispered, feeling that familiar tingling in my spine.

“’Cause he wants to have hot monkey sex with you, duh.” She smiled before elbowing me. “I don’t know. Maybe he actually likes you.”

“You think?” The possibility made my heart do somersaults in my chest, even if I didn’t truly believe her.

“I don’t know. The eagle has landed.”

One of the parents volunteering at the event walked up to my side, leaned down, and asked, “Cammie, do you think you could take some of these decorations to the storage room in the gym for me?”

I glanced up to see Rachel Jenkins smiling down at me. Mrs. Jenkins and my mom had been friends since junior high, which was probably why she felt comfortable asking me to help instead of asking her own daughter. Her daughter was sort of a bitch, and Mrs. Jenkins knew I’d say yes.

“Sure,” I said as she filled my arms with banners and streamers. “Be right back,” I told Kristy in a hushed tone before awkwardly standing up from the table with filled arms as she shushed me.

Walking toward the gymnasium, I realized I wasn’t sure exactly where the storage room was and I almost turned around. Instead of going back in, I continued walking straight ahead, looking for any other student in the dark when Dalton appeared at my side.

“Hey, Cammie.”

“Hey, Dalton.”

I tried to stay calm as Kristy’s words echoed in my mind. I searched his face, wishing I could see his eyes clearer in the dark. I loved Dalton’s eyes. It wasn’t so much about the green color they were, but more about the brown flecks in them. They stood out in stark contrast against the green, three flecks of brown in his right eye and four in his left. I’d heard him say before how much he hated the brown in his eyes, but to me, it was my favorite part.

“Here. Let me help,” he said, before reaching for the majority of the decorations I was holding and taking them from me.

I followed behind him as we headed toward the gym, neither of us speaking. My gaze roamed over his lean body, the way his jeans hung low across his hips and his T-shirt framed his shoulders and back. He wasn’t overly muscular, but then again, Dalton didn’t play any sports. He told me once that he couldn’t play because his family needed him to work. As far as I knew, he worked at one of the grocery stores unloading crates of produce.

Once we reached the gym, Dalton continued toward the back of the building, entering through an unlocked door before following a long curved hallway with a single door at the end.

“I would have never found this,” I said, shaking my head.

“Yeah. That’s why I waited for you,” he said with a smile as the fluorescent lighting cast a tinted glow over us.

Pulling out a key from his pocket, he fumbled with it before unlocking the door and gesturing me inside with a nod of his head.

“Why do you have a key?”

“Class president, remember?”

When he smiled at me, I wanted to tell him of course I not only remembered, but I voted for him. I would have voted for him for anything he wanted to be—astronaut, vampire slayer, Ninja Assassin of the Year.

“So you get a key to the school? I highly doubt that,” I said, attempting to flirt, but I was pretty certain I’d lost that ability lately. I could barely remember how to smile, let alone do something like flirt with a boy.