“Thanks for coming,” I say, relieved.

“I wouldn’t miss my first prom,” he says, and then he takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I wait for the usual fluttering in my stomach, the shortness of breath that always accompanies his touch, but it’s not there. I don’t feel anything at all.

I realize then that my crush is gone, surely and completely. The feelings I had for him feel silly all of a sudden—how could I have been so into Dean when Andrew was right in front of me the whole time?

My parents come over and introduce themselves, and Dean is charming as always. I should have known he would be. Somehow, he calms them down about the motorcycle, promises my mom he would never let me ride it, even manages to make her laugh. Once they’re not looking, he leans into me, whispering into my ear.

“That’s a nice dress. I can’t wait to take it off you.”

I turn and slap him playfully on the chest, but inside I feel like I’m about to split into a million different pieces.

Hannah’s Jeep pulls into the parking lot then, and I feel a pang of guilt that I’m not with her, that I was too proud, too stubborn to admit she was right. Hannah didn’t have a date, and now she’s coming here alone. I’m the worst friend.

But then the doors open and I feel my stomach clench, because she isn’t alone. She’s with Charlie.

They walk over to us, and Hannah can’t meet my eyes, like she knows she’s done something wrong and she’s afraid I’m going to fault her for it.

“Collins,” Charlie says, holding out a fist like he expects me to bump it. I don’t. He moves his fist toward Dean instead. “Hey, man. I’m Charlie.”

Dean smirks. “The famous Charlie.” They bump fists and then launch into a discussion of Being Old and In College.

The parents corral us into a big group so they can take a picture, and then it’s time to go. We pile into our limo—all the parents waving and crying and telling us to be safe, and I know I’m supposed to be having fun, but everything feels so twisted.

The second the doors close, Ava pulls out a full bottle of champagne from her bag like she’s Mary Poppins.

“Who wants some bubbly?” She hands the bottle to Ryder to open, shrieking when the cork pops. Everyone collectively relaxes, way too willing to drink away a little of the awkwardness.