“Where is this going, Fabián?” I asked.
“And Amir Shirazi,” he finished, looking at me.
I bit my lip. “I’m just not ready.”
Fabián nodded, twirling me out of nowhere.
“Hey!”
He laughed. “Sometimes love just happens to you, Parvin,” Fabián said, suddenly turning serious. My eyes narrowed. I could count on one hand the amount of times Fabián Castor had been serious, including our big fight. “You can’t really control who you like, you know? Or who likes you back.”
I nodded. Truer words had never been trued. This time last year I would have begged for a boy to like me, any boy. But now I knew that you couldn’t just like someone because you decided you wanted to. And that you couldn’t control who you liked, either.
“May I cut in?”
Matty appeared over my shoulder. He wore a charcoal-gray suit with high trousers that ended at his ankle, along with some cool suspenders. His hair flopped over his eye, and he flicked it away, smiling at both of us.
“Oh . . . um . . .” I floundered. It had felt like Fabián and I were having a Big Talk, and I wasn’t sure I wanted it to end yet.
“Remember how I said you couldn’t control who you liked?” Fabián said anxiously.
I nodded. “Yeah. So?”
Fabián gulped. Gulped! “Well . . . um . . .”
And then Matty took Fabián’s hand. Matty wasn’t asking if he could dance with me—he was asking if he could dance with Fabián!
“Oh!” I started. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t understand . . .” I could feel my face turn bright red. I stepped aside, letting Matty take my place.
“Sorry, Parvin,” Fabián said, grimacing. “This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you.” He glared at Matty, and Matty gave me an apologetic shrug. Dang. They were both glowing as much as Naomi and Ruth were. I guess they really liked each other.
“No, no, this is great,” I said, mustering a smile.
“You sure?” Fabián asked, his eyes searching mine. “Matty, could you give us a minute?”
“Of course.” Matty nodded, heading back to some kids I recognized from band.
“Listen,” Fabián said, looking uncomfortable. “I wanted to tell you I really liked him earlier, but then you weren’t at school on Monday, and the next day when you said you turned him down, you didn’t seem that upset about it . . . and I just kind of went for it.”
I grabbed Fabián’s hands as the song changed, and we switched to an awkward shuffle. I glanced back at Matty on the edge of the dance floor, laughing at one of his friends’ jokes. Did I even really know him? Did he have siblings? What was his favorite candy? Why did he play the trumpet?
I sighed, turning back to Fabián. “Honestly, I think I liked the idea of Matty more than Matty himself. I was trying to get over Wesley, and Matty was a good distraction.” Bringing up Wesley’s name didn’t hurt anymore. It felt good saying it out loud and not feeling ashamed.
Fabián pulled me closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention Matty earlier,” he said into my cheek. “Though, to be fair, I’ve been crushing on him since day one.”
I nuzzled him back. “I wish you’d told me you were going to ask him. But I’m happy you’re with someone you really like.”
Fabián pulled back and smiled. “God, he’s handsome, isn’t he?”
I laughed. “He seriously is.”
“And you’re sure you’re all right? I don’t have to dance with him if you’re not okay with it.”
“I’m positive. You two make a cute couple.”
He kissed me on the cheek. “Thanks, P. I’m definitely going to make him do a death drop.”
■ ■ ■ HOMECOMING 8:00 P.M.
I thought everything would be different this year, but here I was, sitting on the bleachers at a school dance, next to the soda table once again.
Maybe high school wasn’t so different from middle school after all.
Sir had already asked me twice if I wanted a Shirley Temple. They weren’t being served in the gym. Where would he have even gotten that drink? From a cooler in his locker? The mind reels.
I’d resolved to just watch beauty tutorials on my phone and not make eye contact with anyone the rest of the night. I’d used my selfie camera twice to make sure my curls weren’t frizzing, but thankfully the oil Ameh Sara sent me was working. I spied Wesley and Teighan in the corner of the gym, the two of them awkwardly trying to move to a fast song. I doubted he’d even noticed me here. Why had I tried so hard to impress him? It all felt so stupid now.
I had hoped that my plan of rolling up to Homecoming with my friends and not some boy meant that we’d be spending the whole night together, but it looked like everyone had already moved on.
This had been the longest week ever, and I was so ready for it to be over.
“Is this seat taken?”
I turned around. There, sitting down next to me, was Jake Gyllenhaal from the movie Prince of Persia. Except this time, the prince was actually Persian.
“Amir?” I asked.
He waggled his eyebrows, doing his best Aghayeh Khosrowshahi impression. “Salaam!”
I laughed, still taking him in. His curly hair wasn’t covering his face anymore; he’d slicked it back in a way that showed off his huge brown eyes and thick lashes. His black suit fit him perfectly, paired with a thin paisley tie.
He looked, if possible, ten times cuter.
“I . . . um . . . hi.” I gulped. Had I really made out with this Iranian Adonis? It didn’t seem possible.
“You look nice,” Amir said, smiling.
“You . . . too,” I yelped. Be strong, Parvin. Be strong. Now was the moment to be True Parvin, the kind of girl who didn’t let boys define her self-worth, no matter how handsome they were.
“Wanna dance?” Amir asked, holding out his hand. I felt butterflies swirl in my stomach, the kind that felt good and didn’t cause indigestion.
“Yes,” I said with every bone in my body.
■ ■ ■ HOMECOMING LATER
Amir and I danced so much I kicked off the fancy heels Hanna had let me borrow. How did women wear those things all
