It’s like we’ve all been waiting to follow her lead, because as soon as she accepts Chase’s dance, we break apart in different directions. Hannah lunges for Dean, pulling him into her, and before I can change my mind, I reach for Andrew. I nod my head in thanks to Hannah, knowing she’s doing me this favor on purpose. She nods back, and in that moment I know that she knows. I don’t have to tell her she’s right.
“Hey,” I say, placing my hands on his shoulders.
“Hey,” he says, and wraps his arms around my lower back. I’m trying to keep a respectable distance between us because everyone is watching, but he moves closer, so I’m forced to wrap my arms around his neck. We’re touching all the way from our hips to our chests. I know it’s wrong to be this close, that I’m only torturing myself, but it feels right to be fitted together like this, like we’re matching puzzle pieces. I rest my head on his chest and wish I were tall enough to brush my lips against the soft skin of his neck. He smells familiar, like cut grass, the same way he smelled when he was over me on his bed, his body covering mine. The music is playing soft and slow around us, but I can barely hear it. All I can hear is my heart beating, the blood rushing in my ears. I know if I pull my head back just slightly, I could kiss him. I keep my head locked on his shoulder so I won’t be tempted. I feel suddenly like I’m about to cry. It was so much easier before I realized I loved him. I want to rewind the last few hours and become that girl again.
“Are you having fun?” The sound of his voice is close enough to tickle my ear. I nod my head and bury my nose into his chest. I’m worried he can sense how I feel, that he can read the truth of it on my face.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say, pulling away from him far enough that we can see each other.
“Collins,” he says softly, reaching a hand up to my cheek. He must notice my eyes are watering. “Are you okay?” His expression makes me want to tell him everything.
“I . . .” The words catch in my throat. I know they’re too powerful, that even though they’re just words, their meaning will change everything. They’re words that can’t be unsaid. Besides, what would be the point?
“Keely,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly against the sensitive skin of my cheek. It’s strange to hear my first name from him, and the sound of it feels intimate and personal, like he’s seeing me naked.
“Drew, I—” I start to speak but the music changes to something fast and wild and the thumping beat feels like a slap. I remember suddenly where we are, the people surrounding us. It feels like I’ve been dunked into the cold water of the lake.
“Did that make you jealous?” Danielle asks Andrew, grinning and pulling on his arm. “If I tell you Chase is a better dancer than you, will you be mad?” Before Andrew can answer, Ava comes flying at us, tripping on her heels and using me as support so she doesn’t fall.
“Want some champagne?” She holds up a new full bottle. I don’t know where she found it and how she hasn’t gotten in trouble yet.
An arm circles my waist and I turn to see Dean behind me. I let myself lean against him, nervous about what he might have seen between Andrew and me. I wonder if Dean can tell how I feel. If he even cares.
“Ava, put that bottle away,” Danielle hisses. “You’re a mess. Where did you even get that?”
Ava takes a long sip. “I pulled it out of your ass.”
Just then the music cuts out and a voice comes over the speakers. “If everyone could take their seats, we’re going to start the crowning in a few minutes.”
Our principal, Mr. Harrison, is on a raised platform at the other end of the ballroom, holding a stack of white envelopes. We all head to our seats. I end up between Dean and Charlie, so I lean as close as I can to Dean and completely ignore Charlie when he asks me if I can hand him a soda. Andrew is across from me with Danielle, so I focus instead on watching Ava and Ryder, who are taking turns with the flask.
“Can you guys hear me?” Mr. Harrison asks. There’s an unenthusiastic murmuring from the crowd.
“Oh, just get on with it,” Danielle hisses, taking a sip of her soda. She sets it down on the table and brings a hand up to smooth down her hair. She doesn’t need to. She still looks perfect.
“You seem pretty confident,” Ava whispers in the loud way people do when they’re tipsy.
“I am,” Danielle says. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious.” She pauses for a second and then looks around at all of us. “No offense.”
“Oh, it’s obvious?” Ava asks, her voice rising a few decibels. Ava has never been good at keeping quiet, and now that she’s had a few glasses of champagne, she’s projecting in her full musical theater voice. She folds her arms in front of her, raising her boobs up in the process, so they’re dangerously close to spilling out of her strapless gown. “I’m glad it’s so obvious to you. Wouldn’t want any of the rest of us to get our hopes up.”
Mr. Harrison’s voice comes again, amplified across the ballroom. “All right, so prom court is only open to senior Prescott students. Apologies to all of you underclassmen. You’ll get your shot later.”
“Oh please, Ava,” Danielle says. She motions a hand toward Ava’s cleavage. “You shouldn’t go up onstage anyway, because you’ll just flash everyone. I’m saving you the humiliation. Like usual.”
“Come on, guys,” Hannah whispers. “It’s just stupid prom. This isn’t the Nobel Peace Prize.”
Ava’s face remains stony, her gaze fixed on Danielle across the table. Her eyes are glistening slightly in the corners, matching the sparkling glitter on her eyelids. She takes a quick breath, and when she speaks, her voice is high and strained.
“Well, I don’t think they’d give Prom Queen to someone who tastes like rotten fish.”
Danielle’s head snaps around and her eyes bulge. “What did you just say to me?”
Ava’s bottom lip quivers, but she stares unblinkingly back at Danielle. Andrew is looking straight ahead, back rigid, eyes on the stage. His ears are pink.
Mr. Harrison speaks again. “Can I get a big round of applause for the folks at the Walcott for helping out with this event?” There’s a smattering of weak applause. “And for the prom committee for all their dedicated work. You guys rock! It really does look like we’re under the sea.”
Dean leans close to me, nudging his shoulder against mine, and whispers in my ear. “Now do you get why it’s so high school?” He laughs. “What do you think—Heathers or Mean Girls? I guess it depends what decade you’re into.”
“Not everything has to be a movie reference,” I spit, more aggressively than I mean to. I love movie references. But sometimes it feels like they’re all Dean has.