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My brow furrows. “You mean the thing from when I was fourteen?”

“Small physical intimacies lead to bigger ones.”

“I’m going to a dance chaperoned by my father,” I say with a sigh. “You don’t need to worry.”

Her lips remain pressed tight in displeasure. Maybe it’s simply that Faith is threatening to remove her seat belt. Or maybe she senses that I’ve already violated the contract. It feels like it’s written all over my face.

The boys arrive at Kappy’s house five minutes late, and it’s only as the limo pulls into the circular drive that I realize I’d already begun to worry this whole dance thing was a mean trick. That maybe the boys never intended to go. I’d say I’ve watched too many teen movies, except I’ve only seen one with that plot. I was just led to believe it was something that happened constantly in the real world. Despite a few negative experiences after I got here, I’m no longer sure that’s true.

The boys have brought us corsages. Mine, fortunately, goes on my wrist—Lauren isn’t so lucky, and Simon blushes fiercely as he attempts to pin it onto her dress. Kappy’s mom takes over when he somehow draws blood.

They are all polite enough not to carp about the way my father has sort-of ruined this event: in previous years, you could come and go as you pleased, which allowed everyone to drink or mess around in the parking lot. This year, you cannot.

Everyone climbs into the stretch limo as if this is perfectly normal. They pour glasses of champagne and crank up the music and I shrink a little farther into my seat as I’m not drinking, and I don’t know the song they’re all singing.

“Are you okay?” Alex asks, leaning down so he can be heard over the music.

This was a bad idea. There’s no version of this my father would approve of. Nor is there a version Ford would approve of.

I wince. “My father is just...really strict.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’m not trying to get myself suspended.”

The conversation I need to have with him is so awkward that I wish I’d just stayed home to avoid it, but it needs to be said.

“When I was fourteen, I signed a contract promising I wouldn’t hold a boy’s hand until I’m engaged,” I reply.

“You’re kidding,” he says. “So does that mean if I take your hand, we’d have to get married?”

I laugh. “Only if you were part of our church.”

Alex shrugs. “I’d be open to that. Let me check out your church, and we’ll talk.”

He half means it, I think, because Alex is a nice boy. One day, he’ll make someone a far better husband than half the guys from my Bright Covenant cohort. I understand, completely, why my parents would object to me dating Ford, based on what they think they know. But if they’d object to me dating Alex, of all people, are they really acting out of concern for me or concern for themselves?

Inside, the gym has been transformed. They’ve papered the ceiling in navy blue and hung fairy lights beneath it, so it looks as if we are standing beneath a field of stars. The first person I see is Ford, in a charcoal suit with a deep blue shirt. Half the boys here look awkward and out of place, but he looks like a man, some hot finance guy you’d see in a movie about Wall Street—tall and lean and sure of himself. The sight of him makes my core clench, makes my internal organs liquefy. It’s adoration but it’s also lust, lust so sharp and hot that if he asked me to follow him to the bathroom I’d go without a second thought. And of all the girls he could have had, I’m the one he chose. I’ll never fail to be astonished by that.

His gaze is already on me, like he was waiting for this moment. His mouth curves up into a quarter-smile—a smile that fades the moment Alex steps beside me and places his hand on my elbow.

“Maybe I should go say hi to your dad?” he asks, nodding toward the stage where my father sits with the other chaperones.

He still thinks this is a situation he can finesse. Alex has probably been charming parents since he was small, but my father won’t be impressed, and he won’t be charmed. If he senses that this was in any way a date, he will ground me and perhaps send me home before this night has even begun.

“I can’t emphasize enough what a bad idea that is,” I tell him gently. “Anything that implies to him that I didn’t come here in a group of kids is going to go down poorly.”

Kappy tries to drag me onto the dance floor. I only agree when it’s so full that no one will notice that I don’t know what I’m doing.

What must the fall dance in New Hope have been like, with forty-six kids who’ve never danced or even attended a dance all forced into a single room? Maybe it was nice, being in the same situation as everyone else. Maybe they danced successfully because they didn’t have to worry they’d be ridiculed. Maybe it’s nice that we’ll all wait until marriage to have sex for the same reason—you don’t necessarily know what you’ve missed out on if you’ve never done it with anyone else.

Thanks to Ford, I’m sure I’ll suspect I’ve missed out. Not one of those boys could come close to holding the spell over me he does. Even now, my eyes want to veer toward him, at the far end of the room, while my father watches eagle-eyed from the other.

Ford scowls every time Alex leans down to talk to me. When Alex brings me a cup of punch, Ford’s hand curls into a fist. I guess I’d probably respond the same way if I saw him getting punch for Amanda, but she is off with the friend she always hangs out with.

When a slow song comes on, Lauren and Simon walk to the floor. She’s had a crush on him for months, and as they sway together with her arms around his neck, it seems like the infatuation is mutual.

I wish I could dance with Ford like that.

His gaze meets mine at that very moment, as if he was thinking the same thing.