Free Olivia Christakos and Her Second First Time by Dani Irons Page B

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    “You should get James Declan to dance with you!” Chloe squealed, her headband slipping backward as she jumped. She adjusted it.
    “God, I wish,” I told her. “But he should ask me, right?”
    “Yeah,” she said with a sigh. “But remember that article we read in
Teen Girls
magazine, about how a boy likes a confident girl? I mean, I totally can’t do it, I’m not like you. You’re ballsier than I am.”
    That was when Wyatt Rosen started walking toward me. “Fine,” I told her. “I’ll do it.”
    I angled myself towards the boys’ side so that it didn’t look like I was walking toward Wyatt, rounded the refreshments table, and kept my eyes on James. Cute, popular James who had been caught with his hand up Shantel Johnson’s sweater last winter. In the band room of all places. Neither Shantel nor James played any instruments.
    I had begged my mom for days to buy me the dress I was wearing: purple, short and low-cut. She’d agreed, but had told me not to try it on in front of my dad. This dress was going to win me a dance with James. When I stopped in front of him, he looked right at my chest. “Dance with me?” I whispered as quietly as I could over the new Pink song, “Stupid Girls.”
    James nodded without looking up from my chest. My stomach floated up to my throat and I was suddenly nervous. I hadn’t been nervous walking over here, so why was I now? His hand was cool and soft as he led me next to Jackson and Ashley.
    Despite the song not being slow or romantic, James squished me to him and nuzzled his face in my hair. I’d spent an hour curling it and it hung in ringlets down to my waist. We danced like two awkward Frankensteins put together, but at least we were doing it together. “My Immortal” by Evanescence started playing then, and I could feel the words down to my toenails. I put my chin on James’ shoulder.
    He spun me around again and that was when I saw Wyatt. Dancing slowly with Chloe and taking great care to hold her just so. He whispered something into her ear and she actually giggled. It was then I noticed what Wyatt was wearing. Holey jeans and a too-large, blue button-down short sleeve.
He can’t wear something like that to a dance and then dance with a girl who took two and a half hours to get ready!
One who’s wearing an
$
80 cotton-candy-pink dress with a tulle skirt!
    I broke away from James and stomped my way across the dance floor, pushing people who’d finally gotten the nerve to dance out of my way. I grabbed her arm. “Let’s go!” I yelled, dragging her out of the cafetorium, into the hallway and out a back door.
    “What are you doing?” she hissed when we were finally outside. A chilly wind swept over us and we both rubbed at our bare arms.
    “You shouldn’t dance with him,” I said.
    She sighed. “You’re probably right. But I felt bad.”
    I allowed her to think the reason she shouldn’t have been dancing with him was that he was Tartar Sauce, the weird boy who was bullied and who smelled like fish. But I knew the real reason I didn’t want them dancing together: I was jealous.

Chapter Eleven
    Now
    I wake up with a start, feeling someone watching me sleep again. It’s not a good feeling. Maybe I should tell Cora to make sure people leave me alone while I sleep. Before my eyes can focus, someone speaks.
    “Liv! Oh, my God.” The voice is young, girly and overly energetic. “Wyatt called me last night and told me you were home. I can’t believe you woke up. I mean, I’m so glad you did, of course. But I mean, look at you! Even though you can’t feel too great and have broken bones—oh, crap look at that cast!—you look
gorgeous
. How do you do that?”
    Apparently, I have a nickname.
    A girl about my age is sitting in the chair by my bed. She’s pretty, like a porcelain doll, with blond curls and chubby cheeks. She’s wearing a perma-smile and enough makeup to beautify an army of drag queens.
    “I was at the hospital almost every