“I was hoping you’d be here,” Joe says, reaching out to grab my hand. “I missed you at the charity race last night.”

I swallow hard.

“I, uh, I gotta go meet my mom . . .”

I attempt to release my hand, but he laces his fingers with mine and starts walking to the other side of the bleachers.

“Where are we going?” I snap at him. “I told you, I have to go.”

“No.”

“No?” I stare at him and he shakes his head, his expression solemn.

“No. We need to talk.”

He drops my hand now and I sigh.

“Joe, I’ve already made enough of a fool of myself. I’d really like to go now.”

He moves forward, faster than I would have thought possible, and blocks me from walking back.

“I’ve been thinking about that day in my truck.”

“Please don’t do this.” The shell around my heart starts to thicken. I refuse to let him hurt me again.

“I want to take you out. Like, on a date.”

I blink up at him, dumbstruck. Despite my efforts against it, I can feel fissures start to spread in the protective casing around my heart.

“I asked you if you wanted to go out, and you said no,” I argue. “You said you didn’t want something serious.”

I can hear my breath quicken as Joe reaches out to cup my chin.

“I also told Barbara I couldn’t go to the prom with her.”

“But . . . why?”

His lips curl into a sexy smile I can only describe as swoonworthy.

“Because I want to go with you. Because I can’t wait to dance at our senior prom with you.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. I don’t even know how to react, but the elation coursing through me proves my body knows exactly how to take this news.

“So that’s what I wanted to say,” he says, his voice husky. His hand is still on my face, stroking my cheek. “Tell me I’m not too late. Tell me we can go the prom together. Say yes.”

“I-I don’t know,” I finally say, my eyes staring up into his with uncertainty.

Joe moves his hand back into my hair and pulls me a little closer. “Please, Lily. Take a chance on me.”

I think about everything that’s happened—about the missed opportunities and the crossed wires. About the failed attempts at movie magic and the times when I was so sure the movies would do the trick. And here we are, practically under the bleachers—the most nondescript, least romantic setting ever—and Joe Lombardi is asking me to our senior prom.

“I want to say yes,” I admit. “I just don’t know if I should.”

“You should,” he says confidently.

“Well, obviously you think that,” I say, rolling my eyes. “But I—”

And then he leans in and plants his lips on mine.

When Joe kisses me, I can’t help but think about science. About how experiments often cause variables that were unforeseen and about how no one can predict unpredictable reactions. There are times when the way you plan the procedure just isn’t how the experiment works itself out. Instead, there’s almost always an alteration to the plan. A step that you missed when you were writing out the to-do list.

A wild card.

Joe’s lips are warm and soft, navigating mine carefully and with some skill. One of his hands moves into my hair and the other pulls my body even closer to his. I can feel his inherent warmth and I can smell the sun on his skin.

When we finally break apart, we’re both smiling and breathless.

“Who knew an afternoon in detention would lead to this?” he whispers, his face still close to mine.

I smile at him and shake my head.

“I think it actually started in the stairwell.”