Free Dangerous Girls by Abigail Haas

Tate offers.
    “Who do you know here?” I ask, and Tate leans in to hear me. All around us, there’s music, and packed bodies—dancing and chatting, voices raised to be heard.
    “Some of the guys from last year’s team,” Tate replies, his breath warm against my cheek. “And Lamar, well, you heard about him and Kayla?”
    I nod. They were dating pretty tight all year, inseparable even, until some big blowup over spring break.
    “He’s been kind of low, so I figured a party would be good.”
    “Looks like it’s working,” I nod through to the living room, where Lamar is talking to a couple of college girls in short cutoff skirts and plunging sparkly tops. Tate follows my gaze and breaks into a grin.
    “Good for him. . . .” The end of his sentence is cut off as the music goes up another level, some dirty club hip-hop track.
    “What?” I yell.
    Tate looks around, then gestures away in the other direction of the living room, toward the back of the apartment. One of the hallway windows is wide open, leading out onto the flat gravel roof where I can see some people are already hanging out: thin wisps of cigarette smoke drifting up into the night, and the low, sweet scent of something more. Tate bends over to climb through, then holds out his hand to help me after him.
    Outside, it’s warm, and although the sky is now dark, it’s surprisingly bright; the night cut through with the glow fromthe apartments, and traffic on the streets below. We wander closer to the edge of the roof, and find a place to sit, perching on the edge of a brick-built air vent.
    “It’s weird we haven’t really talked before.” Tate glances over at me. “I keep seeing you around in school.”
    “Not so weird.” I take a sip of beer. “We don’t really run in the same circles.”
    Tate gives a low laugh. “Yeah, you and Elise pretty much keep to yourselves.”
    I turn. “That’s the way you see it?”
    Tate looks puzzled. “What do you mean?”
    I shake my head, amused. “Nothing.”
    All this time, I figured everyone knew I was the outcast, that Elise and I were outsiders because we got blacklisted. But Tate figured we keep to ourselves out of choice, and I guess by now we do.
    “What about you?” I ask. “Is it true you’re going to be president someday?”
    Tate shrugs and looks bashful, and that’s when I know that it’s for real. He doesn’t try and make a joke of it, or deflect the comment away, like people do when they’re embarrassed.
    He wants it.
    “Sorry,” I add quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I think it’s great. That you want something so big. I can’t even see what I’ll be doing a year from now.”
    Tate checks as if to see if I’m still teasing, then relaxes. “Maybe. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it, always having to plan ahead.”
    “What do you mean—school and college and stuff?”
    “Everything,” Tate replies, and there’s a twist in his voice. “I want to go into politics someday for sure, but my parents keep reminding me that I have to be careful, and think how something will look twenty years from here.”
    “You mean, like, partying underage at a college bash.”
    “Exactly.” Tate gives me a rueful smile. “And they’re right, too. But now I have this voice in my head, warning me about everything. To do things right, all the time.” He falls silent, looking out at the city. His blue eyes are cloudy in the shadows, blond hair shaded to a dark gold. I can feel the heat of him beside me, just inches between us, and I feel a rush of simple gladness, that I get to see this part of him. The real part.
    “So how about you don’t,” I suggest. “Just for tonight.”
    He looks at me, a smile playing on the edge of his lips. “Do the right thing?”
    “Why not?” I match his smile, playful. “Who’s going to know?”
    •  •  •
    If it had been a Hillcrest party, it never would have happened. He would be the boy who ruled the scene, and I would be