For most of the night, my brain does that thing where it doesn't stop obsessing. I toss and turn, not because today's the day the ballot is announced, but because I can't stop imagining that kiss.

By the time my alarm sounds, I'm at the part where his fingers brushed my underwear, where bad Rose was ready to sacrifice good Rose for the fleeting yet wondrous feel of his hands in places they didn't belong. I allow myself a moment longer, tuning out the shrill-pitched bleep of my phone as I explore beyond the moment we'd stopped and into uncharted territory.

"Rose," Mom calls from downstairs, "breakfast!"

I sit up, flustered, and spend a few moments preparing myself for the day ahead. Obsessing over Blake on the same day as the ballot is not how I'd expected things to go. I need to stay focused, ready to face my victory with poise or defeat with grace, but being graceful and poised around Blake is impossible. Around him, I devolve into a mess.

Still, as I shower and dress, I can't help but wonder how he feels about last night, whether it kept him up too or if he's already moved on to loathing in self-hatred. The not knowing is the worst part, which makes the thought of having to see him later so nerve-wracking. As I lather in soap, I tell myself he wouldn't have kissed me if he didn't like me, nor would he have punched Chase. Those are the facts, but whether Blake is ready to admit that to himself is an entirely different story; I'm not exactly sure I'm prepared for that either.

At breakfast, Mom is on a mission to find out everything she can about my speech. I begin to suspect that she's heard about Angela, and maybe she's trying to catch me in a lie, but then she smiles so proudly that I know I'm just being paranoid. Having an ex and ex-best friend betray you will do that.

By the time I get to school, I'm not just obsessing – I'm in full-blown panic mode. What if Blake has already decided to quit? What if I have to find another campaign captain? It's not like a line of them is waiting at my door: Blake was my only hope.

I take a deep breath, exiting my car and walking toward the bikesheds like last night never happened. When I get there, he's leaning on the wall, as usual, surrounded by smoke. I bite my lip, trying not to focus on how good he looks in his jacket.

He looks up briefly. "Hey."

That's it, hey, as though he didn't have his tongue down my throat last night. I lean against the wall beside him, fanning the smoke away from my face, and say, "Hey yourself. How's your hand?" Without thinking, I grab it and examine the slight purpling of his knuckles. He tenses, and I drop it just as quickly, running my thumb along my bracelet instead.

"I'll live," he says. "Votes are announced today, right?"

"Yeah." I'm surprised he even remembered. "There isn't a set time, but we'll find out before the end of the day."

"And then what?" he asks. "What's the next step?"

"Well, if I make it onto the ballot, there's a debate between the candidates I'll have to prepare for. We'll have to prepare for." I add the last part to gauge his reaction, allowing him to announce his exit if that's what he's decided, but he doesn't.

"An argument you get to rehearse for," he says, mouth twitching, "sounds right up your street."

"Yes, that's usually what a debate is, Blake."

A grin stretches across his face as he lowers his vape. "We're prickly today."

He's right, I am being prickly, but I can't help it. Between waiting for the results and not knowing how Blake feels, I'm internally hyperventilating. "Look," I say when I can't take it any longer, "are we going to talk about last night? I don't want there to be any miscommunication or awkwardness. You know, because of the campaign."

He puts his vape away and says, "Don't overthink it, Rose."

I stare at him for a good few seconds, unable to decide whether to be relieved or annoyed. On the one hand, it doesn't appear that he's quitting as my campaign captain. On the other, does this mean last night meant nothing to him? And more importantly, why does that make me feel nauseous?

"Fine," I say, "let's talk about what happens after the vote." The wave of nerves I've been managing to suppress suddenly threatens to overcome me. Either I make it onto the ballot, or my campaign ends here, which means Blake and I do too. "If I make it onto the ballot, I'll stop by the basement tonight–" I get flustered and add, "–so that we can go over our campaign speech."

"And if you don't?"

My heart stammers. I can't look at him as I say, "If I don't, you won't need to be my campaign captain anymore."

Neither of us says what this means, but it hangs in the air like an expiry date. If I don't get the votes I need to pass the ballot, this thing between us, whatever it is, is officially over.

The bell rings, and I push myself off the wall before forcing myself to look at him. "The ballot will probably be announced before lunch. If you're around, I can meet you here, but if not–"

"I'll be here," he says.

My heart surges. I take a deep breath, and the pair of us quietly make our way to class. When we enter the hallways, he looks over for a second, eyes unreadable. "Good luck."

"Thanks," I say and head to first period.

The rest of the morning is torture – pure, unadulterated hell. My eyes don't leave the clock, watching each excruciating second tick by as I wait for the votes to roll in. The way it works is that the committee calls each candidate to the office to share whether they made it on the ballot, which means at some point today, I'll be walking into that office and walking back out a contender or a failure.

First up is Angela during the second period. I watch with bated breath as she slips out of her seat and heads to the door, her red locks swinging in the breeze. Even though I feel guilty about it, I can't help but pray that she doesn't make it through, not because I don't want the competition, but because the longer she's in the running, the more likely it is that my parents will find out I lied. She returns five minutes later wearing the biggest smile, and my heart sinks. She made it.

Next is Zack, who looks surprisingly downcast as he sinks into his chair. I'd figured he'd have surpassed us all regarding the speech, but his eyes are like thunder as he briefly looks over. I drop my gaze, determined to stay calm until I'm called into the office, but it's easier said than done.

Eventually, it's my turn. I get up slowly, heart palpitating, as I step into the hallway and make my way to Mr. Charter's office. Libby walks out as I reach the door and smiles. "I made it through," she says, clutching her bag, and she dares to look proud as though she got there herself.

"Of course you did," I say. "You stole my speech."

Her eyes darken. Stepping forward, she tilts her head. "You just can't stand anyone being better than you, can you? You never could."

"Libby," I say as though I'm talking to someone a few buttons short of a sweater, "you literally stole my speech."

"What are you talking about? Our speeches were completely different – Chase helped me to write it."

It occurs to me that despite enlisting Libby's help with posters and whatnot, I'd never shared my speech with her. "It was my old speech – Chase stole it from my campaign book somehow."

"God, you really are insane," she says. "He wouldn't do that." She's about to push past me, but I grab her wrist and yank her closer. From the look on her face, I surprised her. "He would, and he did. I get that you don't want to believe it, but it's true. He's going to fight dirty every step of the way. Do you want to be a part of that?"

She laughs abruptly, snatching her hand back. "You want to talk about fighting dirty? You're a psycho for setting your criminal boyfriend on Chase. You're lucky he didn't go to the principal, or he'd have kicked you out of the running for intimidation."

"He's not my boyfriend," I say like it's relevant, "and he didn't do that to intimidate Chase. He did it because Chase is an asshole."

If her eyes narrowed anymore, they'd slice me in half. She shakes her head, turning her nose like she's better than me. "Whatever, Rose." She pushes past me, making it halfway down the hall before she stops and looks over her shoulder. "You should probably consider that if you have to go to these lengths to win, you're not exactly senior class president material." And with that, she walks off.

I stare after her for what feels like forever before knocking on Mr. Charter's door. I'm still seething when he calls me in, and I sit opposite his desk, clenching my fists in my lap.

"Rose," he says, smiling brightly. "How are you feeling about everything?"

"Fine," I say, forcing a smile. "It's been a great experience so far."

"Well, I was very impressed with your speech," he says. "I think a lot of people were. It felt sincere, and that resonated with a lot of students."

I nod impatiently. He continues on, and I want to scream at him to get on with it because if he drags this out any longer, I'll combust. Finally, he leans forward, a big, cheesy grin spreading across his face as he says, "You did it, Rose. You made it onto the ballot. Congratulations."

I blink once, then twice, unsure if I've heard correctly, but it finally sinks in: I made it. My heart explodes with butterflies, and while it's mostly down to making it on the ballot, it's also because I don't have to give up Blake.

The rest of the morning passes by in a dream-like blur. Despite my unpleasant confrontation with Libby, even she can't ruin my high right now because, despite the odds and my sad, lackluster reputation, I made it onto the ballot.

At lunch, I run to the space behind the bikeshed, surprised to find Blake despite his insistence he'd be here, and throw my arms around him. It's only after he awkwardly hugs me back that I realize what I've done and pull away. "I made it," I say with a beaming smile because even our awkwardness won't overshadow this moment. "I actually made it. I mean, so did Libby–" I scowl when I remember our conversation "–but I made it. Unless you somehow rigged the votes."

He smiles, and it's hard to miss how it lights up his face. "As much as I'd like to take credit, this one was all you."

I smile even harder, desperate to share this news with the world, but Blake is my only friend. "Come on," I say. "Let's go and tell your friends." I grab his arm, tugging at him to follow. Reluctantly, he lets me lead him into school and through the cafeteria, where we sit at the table with his friends.

Eyebrows raised, Freddie leans forward and clucks with his tongue. "Well, well, well. Blake O'Hare eating lunch with us peasants. What a surprise."

Blake gives him a warning look. I beam and say, "I have some good news: I made it onto the ballot. We did it, guys."

Maybe the, We did it, guys, is a step too preppy because Blake hides behind his hand. The others stare back with varying levels of bemusement before Liv reaches over and squeezes my arm. "Congrats. Your speech was amazing."

I smile and settle back into my seat before scoping the cafeteria. Across the room, Chase ignores whatever Georgia says and stares not at me but at Blake. Even from here, I can make out the slight purple bruise around his socket, blemishing his otherwise flawless skin. After a moment or two, those eyes flit to mine, leaving me cold. I quickly look away, praying to god that he won't do anything to retaliate, but I know him well enough by now to know that's probably wishful thinking.

Turning to the others, I say, "Do you guys want to come over to Blake's tonight?" The real reason I'm asking is that being alone with Blake right now is far too risky, especially when I need to focus on debate day. But the thought of being in his basement, even with witnesses, feels dangerous. "Or we could go somewhere more public." Blake looks over. His eyebrow raises like he can read every thought. "I mean, a library is a good place to outline a debate, right?" I add.

Freddie looks at Blake and smirks. "Have you ever actually been to a library?"

"No," Blake says with a glance at the clock. He'd rather be anywhere than here. "I'm not about to start, either."

"Fine, we can go to a diner or something," I say.

"What's wrong with Blake's basement?" Kenny asks.

His eyes are careful as they study my face. I briefly wonder if Blake told them what happened between us, but then again, he's not exactly the sharing type. Still, I'm cautious as I say, "Nothing. It's just this debate will need a fresh perspective – somewhere more inspiring. No offense, but Blake's basement is the least inspiring place I can think of." I look at Blake as I say it. His mouth lifts, and I can tell he's on the verge of saying something sarcastic, so I lean across the table to Liv. "Pretty please? Five brains are better than one."

Freddie lets out a dramatic sigh. "We'll go if you stop saying things like that."

Liv smiles, her cat-like eyes bright with laughter. "I don't know how much help we'll be, but we'll try. If you made it this far with Blake as your campaign captain, you're probably already in with a pretty good shot."

"Thank you," I say, and as the three of them tease Blake, something in me burns even brighter than it had when I made it on the ballot. They might not be my friends, but as I sit here, laughing at Blake's unparalleled discomfort, I can't help but hope that one day they will be.

❤️