The Secrets of Attraction by Robin Constantine Page B

Tanner.
    He nodded. “Why, because he’s with Thursday Girl? We have a drummer. I’m on top of the world.”
    â€œBecause if you had a problem with it, we could—”
    â€œI like the dude, Jess. He’s a good fit. Plenty of fish in thesea. Did you see me dancing with Tori Ashe?”
    I laughed. “Yep, but isn’t that a conflict of interest?”
    â€œOr sleeping with the enemy. That sounds hotter. What changed your mind about Grayson?” he asked as we reached the VW.
    â€œDunno. Game-time decision, I guess.”
    â€œSo it had nothing to do with him being six degrees of separation from the little blonde?”
    â€œNah.”
    We got into the car and sat a moment while it warmed up. Was Madison the reason I suddenly thought Grayson was a good match? Of course not—he was good, and we’d grow as a band, on common ground. I knew that’s why T wanted him—the other guy was too good, as ridiculous as it sounded. There was something I had to admit, though.
    â€œI mean, it wouldn’t suck if she came to see us.”
    Tanner smiled and looked out the passenger’s-side window. “I knew it.”

SEVEN
MADISON
    â€œI’LL KEEP THAT IN MIND, THANKS,” JESSE SAID before exiting.
    I crossed my arms for warmth, watching him leave after his friend. I had the weird urge to follow and see what Broody Barista did in his free time. Running into him had been such an unexpected surprise in an otherwise meh kind of a night. The door closed with a clunk. I walked over to it, running my hand along the cold push bar—one swift motion and I’d be out. Not that I really wanted to leave—the night had barely started. And this dress was far too fabulous to just roam the streets in, plus I still hadn’t gotten any decent photos or slow-danced with Zach.
    Why was I making a list of reasons to stay at the dance?
    School dances always sounded better than they actuallywere. Why not call it what it really was: Friday night all dressed up trying to be something it wasn’t. No matter how much balloon art filled the gym, it still boiled down to a room with blue padded walls, retracted basketball hoops, and the faint smell of rubber and Simple Green where we’d be slapping around a hockey puck in class on Monday. Seeing it as a romantic place was hard, even with the mood lighting.
    Except watching Wren and Grayson—the building could have come crashing down around them and I doubt they’d have noticed. They really were that sickening couple— annoying and sweet and in their own world. I took a few pictures of them, then wandered deeper into the crowd, ignoring the disappointment that threatened to bring down my already precarious good mood. There was nothing that sucked more than searching for your date during a John Legend song. Where was Zach?
    I made my way to the front of the gym to see if there were any interesting shots—I’d been wary of the dance assignment at first but realized it could be a great opportunity to build my portfolio. Photography was not my thing but my art teacher had said a diverse portfolio showed that you weren’t afraid to take risks. That what these art programs wanted to see most was your potential.
    Earlier in the year, I’d taken some artsy shots between the spokes of a Ferris wheel at the Sacred Heart Founders Festival that had won a ribbon in the fall art show. Granted, therewasn’t much competition. I looked around for something out of the ordinary, anything I could see with a different perspective. As I brought the camera up to my face, Zach’s grin appeared in the frame.
    â€œWhere have you been?” he asked, grabbing my hand and leading me toward the dance floor.
    â€œZach,” I said, taking quick little steps to keep up with him. “Slow down.”
    I adjusted the strap so the camera was to my back, like a purse—it had really become the clunkiest of