"Can we be friends?" Nolan asked, and there was something in the way he said it, easy and a little crooked, eighteen years old and fully aware of exactly how much charm he had at his disposal, that made Justina feel, for one dizzy second, like the gymnasium floor had tilted slightly under her feet.
"Yeah," she said, trying to sound far more casual than she felt. "I'd like that."
They talked for the better part of an hour after that, tucked into a corner near the punch table while Kelvin's set wound down behind them, and then they danced nothing dramatic, nothing that would have made the whispers start up again, just close enough that Justina could feel the warmth of him and count, without meaning to, every time his hand found the small of her back.
