I don’t know if it’s the tequila swishing around our bellies, or if we’re just genuinely in a good mood, but the three of us head downstairs with a spring in our step. We’re some of the last to join the big huddle of students gathered by the fountain on the front lawn and, surprisingly, Bec was right. As I glance around the crowd of designer suits and thousand-dollar dresses, I realize it’s really difficult to tell anyone apart. There are a few outliers, of course: Sam’s the only girl with bright pink hair, and no mask is gonna hide the fact that Brett is 6 foot 5.

‘All right, put your dicks away,’ Bec says as wolf whistles come from the throng of suited and booted salivating straight boys. ‘Two years with these idiots and all it takes is a pretty dress to turn them into Neanderthals.’

Golden hour is upon us, and the sky is slowly coming to life with dashes of orange, pink and blue. The fountain features a statue of the founder of the school from, like, a hundred years ago. A stern expression is chiselled into the cold stone, and a carved bull mastiff sits obediently by his side. Nobody can ever remember the name of the man, but we all remember the name of his dog – Huckleberry. He’s a bit of a school mascot around here. Petting him is supposed to bring good fortune and, although nobody really believes that, the top of his head is polished smooth from everyone taking it in turns to give him a good rub.

‘And you’re sure the outfit isn’t too much?’ Chase asks self-consciously. ‘Not to sound narcissistic or anything, but it kinda feels like everyone is staring at me …’

‘It’s because you look incredible,’ I say, putting my arm round his shoulder.

‘You really think so?’ He tugs on his sleeves a little.

‘I’m telling you, you might just be the best-dressed person here. You’re probably even gonna upstage Kellen.’ I look around, but he doesn’t seem to be here yet.

‘Thanks, Zach,’ he says, smiling. ‘You look great too by the way. Never would have thought the whole suit thing would look good on you … but yeah. Masc.’

‘Masc?’ I actually cackle. ‘Seriously?’

‘One hundred per cent,’ he says. ‘I’m as shocked as you are.’

Bec smiles. ‘Just wait till Cameron gets a look at you.’

‘Where is he anyway?’ I ask, scanning the crowd for him.

‘Over there.’ She nods towards the grassy bank where he and Ethan are posing for photos. They’ve gone for a yin and yang look, Cameron in white with sparkling black accents, and Ethan in the exact opposite. It’s weird that I can tell them apart, even like this, but there’s something about the way Cameron moves that just stands out to me. He has an easy-going energy about him, whereas Ethan seems more rigid.