Sam looked at him, dazed. “Well?”

It was chaos. Beautiful, holy chaos.

They came back for the encore. Two encores, actually. They closed with “Sadie Hawkins Dance,” and the floor turned into a mosh pit of pure, unadulterated joy. Matt lost a shoe. He didn’t care. He was crowd-surfing—twice—and the second time, he looked up at the rafters, at the lights, at the blur of smiling faces below, and he laughed.

The sweat on the back of Matt’s neck had nothing to do with the Ohio humidity and everything to do with the five minutes he’d been waiting for the lights to drop.