We pose for pictures—in a group of eight, in our quartet, in couples. I make a point not to watch Kiki and Jasmine take their photos, but when I sneak glances, it’s clear that Kiki was telling the truth. Jasmine doesn’t put her arms around Kiki the way Chase does to me, and they don’t take classic shots of one of them gazing into the other’s eyes, though maybe that’s because they’re the same height.

I don’t know if Jasmine tells Kiki she looks beautiful the way Chase tells me I do, though Kiki definitely does look beautiful in her gothic gown with its corset bodice, and I’m jealous even though it’s stupid. But there are a thousand pictures of me and Jasmine together from this past summer—selfies on the beach and pictures taken by Keisha at parties and portraits forced by Declan and Mom before events where our presences were requested. It feels like we should take one for them, at least. Except, of course, no one knows how closely our parents work together.

“Everything OK?” Chase murmurs, his hand warm through my thin dress, and I assure him that it is without even having to think about it.

It’s Homecoming. I’m Chase Harding’s date. How could it not be?

Everyone piles into the limo, and Chase immediately pulls me close. Part of me is happy to let him, and part of me wants to claw my way out and end this night before it even begins. I hate that I feel this way on a night that should be one of the best of my life, especially since I have a weirdly good chance of being named Homecoming Queen, but I hate so many things about how I feel lately. This is just one more on the pile.

“Time to open that champagne!” Lucas whoops, and suddenly there’s foam everywhere and everyone’s laughing and a bottle is being passed around. I don’t want any, but that doesn’t stop me from drinking when it comes my way, and it’s so nice to have something occupying me that I take an extra sip. And then another. And another.

“Save some for the rest of us, Mrs. Harding!” Shannon yells, and everyone cracks up, even Chase. I try to smile, but the name makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Even Jasmine’s laughing. How is Jasmine laughing?

I pass the bottle along and now I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I take one of Chase’s and twine my fingers with his. I know in my heart that he’s warm and safe, but it’s not translating, no matter how much I squeeze. Even when he kisses the top of my head.

“You excited to watch your boyfriend win Homecoming King?” Jasmine asks, and everyone else cheers while Chase hangs his head modestly.