I huff, caving when I notice he’s wearing that stubborn “I’m not leaving until you say yes” look on his face.
“Ugh. Fine.”
He breaks out in a wide smile. “That’s the spirit. Trust me, it’ll be sick.” Halfway to the door, he stops, glancing at me over his shoulder. “Oh, by the way. There’s a dress code for the girls. Pink or red only.”
My jaw drops. I snatch the nearest projectile—a Sharpie—and throw it at the doorway, but Connor’s already racing away.
“I hate you, Connor,” I growl the following night, standing in front of the mirror wearing a bright pink minidress I borrowed from my cousin.
I wish I could be like Jasmine. She’s putting the finishing touches on her makeup, pouting in the mirror, so excited she’s actually glowing. She and Bo are in the on-again phase of the cycle.
“How do I look?” She turns toward me in a pink empire-waist dress, practicing her Instagram angles on me.
“Perfect,” I say.
Despite it being a random dance and not the prom, Maggie and Dan wait for us in the front hall, where my aunt starts snapping pictures as if we’re walking the red carpet at a movie premiere. By the time we leave the house, I’m already exhausted.
Bo picks Jasmine up in a shiny black truck that Connor tells me he got from an LSU football scout who’s trying to lure him. Jasmine is beaming as he opens the door for her. It’s nice to see her so happy, even if I do suspect they’ll be off-again before the dance comes to an end.
Since the twins turned seventeen last month, Connor insists on driving tonight. We take Maggie’s SUV and head for Crockett High.
The night is brisk as we walk toward the building, my strappy heels clicking on the concrete. I’ve already tugged on the hem of Jasmine’s dress at least a dozen times. I feel like everyone in town can see underneath it. I’m taller than my cousin, so her dress is way too short on me.
Connor and I stop at the table outside the gym doors to hand our tickets to the two chaperones sitting there. When we enter the dance, I’m assaulted by clashing shades of red and pink. So much red and pink. Oh God.
“Why is this happening to me?” I moan as Connor links arms and urges me forward.
“Just enjoy it,” he chides.
It’s like Valentine’s Day threw up in here. Twinkling string lights crisscross the ceiling, with hearts of all sizes hanging from the rafters. The decoration committee really went all out, layering the walls in paper roses and garlands that sway with everybass beat. A live band, made up of a few seniors I recognize from school, play on the low-rise stage, belting out a pop cover. They’re actually pretty good.
Everywhere I look, girls are decked out in reds and pinks. The boys got off scot-free, able to wear their black and gray and blue suits like a bunch of assholes.
“Want some punch?” Connor offers.
“Only if you spike it with tranquilizers.”
“You’re such a whiny baby,” he says, before striding toward the refreshment tables.
I study the crowd. Mr.Hicks and Mrs.Burle are chaperoning, the latter surprising me since she’s about a hundred years old and I assumed went to sleep before seven every night. When another familiar face catches my eye, I freeze.
Natalie Singh.
Why isshehere? She’s not a student or a teacher.
The question is answered when the geography teacher, Ms. Steinfeld, joins her. The two young women exchange words, laughing about something, and I deduce they’re friends. Maybe Ms.Steinfeld invited Natalie to keep her company while chaperoning.
Jasmine suddenly pops up beside me, all smiles and glitter. “Oh my God, cousin,” she hisses in my ear. “How good does Bo look right now?”
I glance in the direction of her date and can’t deny the tall, dimpled football player looks great in a suit.
She leans in again. “If we’re still together by prom, I’m giving him my V-card.”
I try to suppress my laughter, but it spills over. “Whatever makes you happy, Jazzy.”
“He’ssosweet. Not to mention he’s hot, has a future, and actually opens doors for people.”
“All pluses,” I confirm.
