“Wait!” he yells.

I don’t slow down, I hurry faster, but Reeve catches up with me. Breathing hard, he whirls me around so I’m facing him. His green eyes are bright; he fixes them on me. He doesn’t blink once. In a low, urgent voice he says, “I like you. I’ve been holding it in, for Lind’s sake. But I like you. I can’t help it.” He watches me, waits for me to say something. Do something. “No more games, Cho. You and me—is this real?”

My face is flaming. I know I’m supposed to say yes. Say yes and kiss him. That’s the plan. Except the thing is that, deep down, I want to say yes. I want so badly to say yes. But I’m afraid. We’re so real it terrifies me.

Seconds pass, and finally Reeve’s gaze drops and he isn’t looking at me anymore. He’s looking down. He’s going to back away, he’s going to leave, and it will all be over.

“Yes. It’s real.”

Reeve’s head jerks up. “Then—then why did you tell Ash you weren’t here with me?”

I don’t know what else to tell him except the honest answer. “Because I’m scared.” My voice breaks. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.” You least of all.

I stand there, shivering. Reeve puts his coat on my shoulders, and then I let him help me into it. He pulls me toward him, and then he slides my arms around his neck. “Okay?” he whispers. He’s shivering too.

I nod, my heart beating so fast and so hard I can hear it. I think I can hear his, too.

And then he kisses me, and I stop thinking altogether.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I saw them leave. I slipped away from the chorus, stepped right off the risers, and I followed them. Reeve’s kissing her, so soft and gentle, like she’s a porcelain doll that will break in his arms if he’s not careful. She’s never looked prettier. Like an angel. Roses in her cheeks, her shiny hair whipping around them. It’s like a movie. Two teenagers, kissing in the parking lot, Christmas carols in the background, the tree all lit up behind them.

And then there’s me. In the background. In the shadows. Watching.

Step one.

It worked. He loves her now for sure. The way he’s looking at her right now, like she’s the girl of his dreams. He can’t believe his luck. It’s all unfolding exactly the way it’s supposed to.

So why am I hurting so bad? This is what I asked Lillia to do. I’m getting what I wanted. I should feel glad.

Why does it feel so terrible?

I’m clenching my fists so tight my fingernails leave red crescent moons on my skin. I feel a surge, a heat roar up inside me. As bad as I’m hurting now, he’ll hurt ten times worse. That’s the only thing that keeps me going.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

I’m sitting on the ground, the cold seeping through the butt of my jeans, in the middle of the damn treelighting crowd. I rip off my mittens with my teeth, fold down my combat boots, and check my ankles for blood.

You know, there is such a thing as concert crowd etiquette. Common-sense rules to abide by so that everyone in the audience has a good time. It’s true even for punk shows, where people in the pit beat the piss out of each other. So it should definitely be true for this shit show.

I learned about the rules at my very first show at Paul’s Boutique. Kim and I were up in the sound booth. She had a bouncer’s flashlight with her and kept beaming it on different offenders so I could watch their transgressions live.

It basically boils down to this.

One: Never pretend that you have a friend close to the stage just so you can push up close. People will call out fake names, like, “Hey, Jimmy! I’m coming!” and then weasel their way to the front. It might fool one or two people in the very back, but ultimately you end up at the stage, clearly by yourself, and people get pissed.

Two: Even in the tightest of crowds, you must always respect people’s personal space. Like, it’s fine to brush up against someone once, but that’s it. And if you carry a purse or a bag, you hug it to your chest so you won’t knock people with it.

Three: If you’re super tall, don’t be a dick and stand in front of a short person.

Now, even though it’s never come up at any of the shows I’ve been to, there has to be a rule about how to navigate a crowd when you’re pushing a double-wide stroller packed with two screaming babies through a crowd of people like a damn snowplow.

I stare daggers into this Mother of the Year as she coyly spins around and gives me the most pathetic I’m sorry! face. Meanwhile, her wailing kids are drowning out the whole damn choir.

I get back to my feet and look for Lillia and Reeve in the crowd, but they’ve both disappeared. That dummy Ashlin and her meatbag Derek, too.

I spin around and stand on my tiptoes and try to see where everyone may have run off to, but the crowd is so thick, and the family standing behind me is giving me weird looks, so I turn back toward the concert. Lillia will give us the juicy stepone details later. I know she’ll make it happen.

Anyway, I’m interested in hearing Alex sing. I’ve been trying to get him to play me one of his songs, but he never does. I told him that tonight could be like a practice for his USC audition. He still hasn’t sent in his application, as far as I know.

After two boring songs, the band kicks in to “Baby, It’s Cold Outside.” Alex steps forward, along with some other girl I recognize as a drama geek. He’s got his guitar with him, and he starts playing along.

I feel myself smiling. Forget this drama girl. She’s coming off way too Broadway, especially since “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” is a sexy song. Alex is doing it right. Like how a boy would talk you into something. Sweet, but with something hungry underneath. And he does have a great voice. Clean and bright, and very confident. If he could be as confident in regular life as he is when he’s singing, dude would go far in life.

After he’s done, he steps back up on the risers and blushes at the applause. And people are applauding. Not the polite stuff. Like they’ve seen something . . . special.

349 Meanwhile, Alex is looking around the crowd, I guess for his friends. But they’ve all left him.

Poor guy. I don’t get why no one in his circle of friends can see how great he is.

Alex’s eyes find me. I wolf-whistle and then throw up the rock sign with each of my hands. Like he’s a rock star. Or at least on his way to being one.

He breaks into a smile, and despite being freezing, my whole body warms.