For a moment, I thought I had heard him wrong.
Daniel Carter was not one of the loud boys who needed attention. He was quiet, kind in a way that didn’t ask to be noticed. We had shared classes for years, but he had always kept a respectful distance, offering small smiles in hallways and picking up my dropped books without making a performance of it.
“Dance?” I repeated, glancing down at my wheelchair.
His expression did not change.
“Only if you want to,” he said.
No pity. No awkward apology. No nervous look toward his friends.
Just an invitation.
Something in my chest softened. I nodded before fear could talk me out of it.
Daniel stepped behind my chair and guided me carefully onto the dance floor. The crowd seemed to blur around us. For the first time that night, I stopped feeling like a shadow.