“Waylon, get in here,” Hannah demands with a lopsided smile. “Please. I’ve never been on a date with a dude. I gotta commemorate my one and only.”

We do our best Charlie’s Angels pose and a few others before the photographer informs us that there is indeed a line of people waiting. And the whole time I have to force myself not to check and see if Tucker is watching.

Hannah and I track down Mrs. Leonard, who is doing laps around the ballroom in a shiny burgundy pantsuit that screams mother of the bride with a clipboard in her hand and her sparkly pants swishing around her ankles.

“Mrs. Leonard!” I call. “We’re here!”

She spins in a circle, following my voice until she sees me. “Ah, yes!” She gives Hannah and me a once-over. “And don’t you both look . . . handsome.”

I’ll take it.

“Thanks,” Hannah says over the music. “So we check in with you and then what?”

“Enjoy prom! We’ll be crowning king and queen in forty-five minutes.” And then she floats away into the crowd.

“What’s longer?” Hannah asks. “Forty-five minutes or forty-five years? Asking for a friend.”

I feel like I might puke if I even open my mouth right now, so I just shrug.

On one side of us, the dance floor is flush with people grinding on each other who greatly outnumber the teachers trying to pry them apart before anyone gets pregnant.

I turn back to Hannah and Clem. “Can we please find a dark corner where we can count down the next forty-five minutes in peace?”

Clementine sighs and stares at the dance floor with a forlorn look on her face. “But afterward we dance? Win or lose?”

Hannah takes her hand and kisses each of her knuckles. “Win or lose.”

Clementine holds her other hand out for me, and we find a table at the back of the room, near a large bay window overlooking the golf course.

I watch as friendly faces trickle in. Millie is in a striking hot-pink tea-length dress with light pink polka dots. She’s draped on the arm of her boyfriend, Malik, who’s wearing a vintage-looking tux with black pants, a baby-blue jacket, and a matching ruffled tux shirt. On Millie’s other arm is Amanda, in a black jumpsuit that dips down low in the back. Close behind them are Ellen, who wears a vibrant yellow gown that perfectly drapes her frame, and Tim. He pulls her through the crowd with their pinkies interlocked in what might possibly be the cutest public display of affection. Rounding out the group is Willowdean, her curls tamed into finger waves and a green velvet gown hugging every curve. She stands by herself, glancing around the room.