2 Empath by Edie Claire Page A

move to music, which made him the closest thing to a good dance partner my high school had to offer.
    “Thanks,” I responded. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” Relatively speaking, I added silently. “Want to dance?”
    He threw back the remainder of his punch with one gulp, then shrugged. “Not much else to do, is there?”
    I turned back to Kylee, but the spot where she’d been standing was empty. She was already out on the dance floor, demonstrating some moves to a circle of adoring guys who couldn’t imitate them if their lives depended on it.
    Oh well. So what if the guys at my high school weren’t into dancing as much as the ones I’d met at the Spring Fling in Oahu? I had a lot of friends here, and I would miss them when I moved. Even if the guys did continue to swoon over Kylee and the flirty girls while thinking of me as just another “gal pal.” The music was good and my best friends had my back.
    I would not think about Zane. I would not try to imagine his reaction to seeing me in this dress, certainly not in the one I didn’t buy. I would not remember how he could always make me feel attractive, no matter what I was wearing or what I was doing, just because I was me.
    I was going to dance with a bunch of guys who saw me as just another one of the guys, and I was going to enjoy myself anyway.
    I turned back to Lucas. Awkward, too-skinny, apparently colorblind Lucas. We’d known each other since before my braces came off. He saw me just like the others did: a down-to-earth, undemanding tomboy of a friend.
    He held out an elbow and smiled at me. “Shall we dance?” he said jokingly.
    Lust.
    My breath caught in my throat.
    Holy crap!
    I tried to clear the system; reset the channels. The face he turned to me looked as it always did: self-conscious but good-spirited, slightly sarcastic, always ready for a laugh. But what was he actually feeling?
    Lust.
    Oh my. Was it the dress? The occasion? Or had he been giving off the vibe all along, but I wasn’t sensitive enough to feel it? Surely not!
    “Something wrong?” he asked, lowering his arm again.
    Concern.
    I managed to return a weak smile. He really was worried about me. How sweet was that?
    “No, I’m fine,” I lied, taking his arm with a flourish. “Let’s show these losers how it’s done, shall we?”
    He grinned back at me broadly. “After you.”
    Lust.
    Ackk!
    I averted my eyes and led him briskly out onto the dance floor.

Chapter 8
    Lucas was not the only one. The only thing keeping me from feeling totally creeped out by the rapid-fire onslaught of desire I felt from every guy — yes, every guy — I danced with was the even more powerful vibe of excitement and fun that radiated from nearly everyone in the room. It was a great dance. The DJ was tons better than last year’s (so I understood from the seniors), all the songs were familiar, and the sour-cream guacamole dip on the back right table was to die for.
    For whatever reason, at least a third of the crowd had come without dates, so there was plenty of mingling and flirting going on, which meant Kylee was in seventh heaven. And as for Tara… well, Tara was having the time of her life. She insisted, on the few occasions when she could shake off enough admirers to have a word with me, that it was all about her lack of glasses. I could have told her that her face was in fact not the focus of Jack Mason’s attention during their frequent dances together, but I decided she was better off not knowing that.
    And I would be better off not knowing that Caitlin Martin was ridiculously jealous of Erin Pruitt, even though Caitlin had been the one to break it off with Nick over a month ago. Or that my precalculus teacher was way too fond of my American history teacher, considering that they were both married with kids. And I could definitely stand to live another day without realizing that Amy Alexander felt horribly guilty every time she looked at her super-sweet boyfriend, which