“True,” she says, tilting her head. “But I think he’s got to be into her.”

My stomach goes oof, but I scold myself. Doesn’t matter, remember?

“Do you blame him?” I say.

“Obviously not,” she says. “Wouldn’t anyone be?”

“What are we whispering about?” Taylor leans over to whisper very loudly.

“Addie thinks that—”

I elbow her, and she stops, laughing. She takes a quick selfie of the three of us.

“Nevaeh next!” Katherine calls.

Nevaeh scoops up her hat, shakes out the sleeves of her suit jacket, and holds out her hand to Katherine, who accepts it gracefully. She spins and dips Katherine while Jack shoots. Then he gets close to shoot the brim of her hat, her bow tie, the bedazzled cuff links that are just for show, her slim ankles, and the tap shoes.

“What were you whispering about?” Taylor whispers, distracting me from my nerves.

“Nothing really,” I say. He lifts an eyebrow. It’s a skeptical eyebrow.

I don’t say anything more, and soon I’m off the hook because it’s Taylor’s turn. Nevaeh helps him into the wild black-and-white curls of his wig, which he assembled out of two wigs. He’s wearing a flowing Greek-style dress of green satin with a very daring thigh slit. He’s got that biteable neck and that kissable jaw and the flawless skin of his throat and shoulder.

“I kind of want to make out with you,” I tell him.

“Only kind of?” he says, tapping my chin. “I’m disappointed in myself.” He swoops me into his arms and gazes dramatically into my eyes. I let my head fall back, flinging my arm behind me, and he makes om-nom noises at the base of my throat that tickle so much I start laughing.

Jack clears his throat and interrupts us, and Taylor sets me back on my feet, rubbing off the lipstick on my collarbone with a thumb and pinching my cheek. He is wonderfully elegant, dramatic, and powerful, and they’re chatting while Jack takes pictures.

Katherine takes my hand and whispers in my ear. “You’re going to be okay!”

“Do I look that scared?”

She smiles sympathetically. “I know you hate pictures.”

“It’ll be fine,” I say.

Then Jack points at me.

“Don’t we have enough photos?” I say.

His forehead crinkles. He looks down at the screen of his camera, back up at me. “Well…”

“We do not,” Nevaeh says firmly, tugging me away from the wall. “We need photos of all of us.”

“But why do we need—”

“I need them,” Jack says. Then clears his throat. “I’d like to have as many as possible to choose from,” he explains.

“The more the better,” Nevaeh says. The two professionals nod at each other.

“I don’t really have much of a costume yet,” I hedge.

“We have those dangly earrings!” Katherine says, swinging around and grabbing the bag of costume stuff.