Page 138 of The Devil's Deal

“So, get this. Yesterday, right before I went home, he came up to me and asked if I’d go to the dance with him.”

“Oh,” he says casually, peering down at his red tray. “What’d you say?”

The question comes off indifferent, like he doesn’t care that the most popular boy in school just asked me out to the end-of-the-year dance. To be honest, I don’t care either. The only boy I want to go with is the one beside me, but I don’t think he likes me that way. That’s assuming my stupid father would even let me go.

It’d be weird to ask Dom to go with me, because girls don’t really ask guys and he’ll probably say no, even if we go as friends. Dances and stuff aren’t his thing.

“What did you tell him?” he asks.

I glance at my cup of water, circling my finger around the straw.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” I side-eye him, biting the corner of my bottom lip. “What do you think I should say?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles, his eyes on the tray. “Do you want to go with him?”

No! I want to go with you, you buffoon.

“No, not really.” I sigh. “I want to go with someone else.”

I look right at him this time. Well, more like his cheek, because he won’t look at me.

“But I don’t think he wants to go with me.”

“That sucks. Sorry, Chiara.”

Oh, now you look at me? It’s you! Should I spell it out for you?

“He must be an idiot.”

I giggle. “Yeah, he is sometimes. But I still like him.”

His cheeks grow red, and he doesn’t say anything after that. Neither of us do.

* * *

That memory eats away at my heart until nothing is left but a tiny spark, keeping me afloat. And though I try my hardest to bury the rest of our past, it storms in with a vengeance, reminding me of the lost, forgotten dreams of those lost, forgotten souls.

* * *

“Do you think your dad will let you go away to college?” Dom asks as we swing side by side at recess.

I kick the sand with my sneakers. “Probably not.”

I shrug with disappointment. I’d do anything to leave as long as Dom is with me.

“That sucks. I had this plan for us to go to the same school. Somewhere close, but not so close that you’d have to live at home.”

“I wish.” I frown, turning my head to find disappointment on his face.

“Me too. I don’t want us not to be friends when we’re done with high school.”

My brows shoot up. “Why wouldn’t we be friends?”

“I don’t know,” he laughs shyly. “You’ll probably forget me with all those football players asking you out.”

“Shut up.” I giggle, kicking my foot, sand shooting up toward his leg.

“I’m serious.” He gazes at me with a genuine expression. “Don’t forget me, okay?”

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