Chris’s tie is black. Sweet. I can’t help but give a small fist pump when I see it. He’s posing for photos with a bunch of his teammates and their dates in a courtyard outside the ballroom, and his beautiful smile sends me swooning in my heels. I tighten my grip on Jerod’s arm to keep from melting into a pool of silver across the floor.

Mid-shot, Chris glances over and spots me. His eyes grow wide, and his smile morphs into an expression of shock. Would love to get a copy of that photo.

“Wow.” Massey whistles, and he and Briggs rush over to us. “Look at you, Malloy. You have a fairy godmother you never told us about?”

Briggs circles me and reaches out to touch a sparkle on my waist. “That dress is hot.”

I slap at his hand. “Not as hot as Abi’s, I’m sure.” Briggs isn’t flirting with me. We’ve never had that vibe, but I want to remind him to keep his hands to himself and his date tonight.

Abi is hanging back with the rest of the group, watching us with a huge grin. I raise one eyebrow and wink at her. Thank you, fairy godmother.

Chris strolls toward us with Lindsay at his heels. Her dress is the color of rubies, and her hair is piled high atop her head, a few stray tendrils curling down around her bare shoulders. Very elegant.

“Lexi. Jerod.” Chris is as stiff as the collar of his white pleated shirt. He clears his throat and looks at his shoes, his hands, the ceiling, anywhere but at us. “You two going to Briggsy’s after party?”

I laugh. “Planning ahead? How about we enjoy prom first?”

Lindsay clasps her blood-red nails around Chris’s arm and gazes up at him. “Exactly what I said.” She makes a swooping motion toward my dress. “You look gorgeous.”

“You too.” Kills me to say it, but she does. No matter. I promised myself I wouldn’t spend tonight thinking about Chris. Time to accept that fact that he and Lindsay look amazing together and belong together and will no doubt go to the after party together and then have their own little after-after party together and—

I blink hard. “So. Shall we go in?” I take a deep breath and grab Jerod’s hand. “See you two in there. Have fun tonight.” I turn on my heel and lead the way toward the ballroom. Time to keep my promise and enjoy prom.

The ballroom is pulsing with a Nicki Minaj song. A few of my classmates are hanging out in clumps near the tables waiting for dinner service to start. A few are chatting in the corner and sipping punch from elegant faux-crystal glasses, and a few are making half-hearted attempts to pull their friends out onto the dance floor.

But most are watching Alicea Springer.

Standing on a riser by the D.J. booth, her arms in the air and her eyes closed, Alicea is having her own private dance party. She dips and twirls and stomps and shakes. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I walk up to my teammates Paige and April, who are staring, wide-eyed, mesmerized by the spectacle. “How long has this been going on?”

“For at least three songs,” Paige whispers, as though she’s afraid to break a spell. “Isn’t she fantastic?”

“Is she trashed?”

“I don’t think so,” April says. “She’s just … in her own world. Which appears to be more fun than ours.”

I glance around for Ty Walker and spot him at the hors d’oeuvres table with some friends. He’s laughing and joking and seems completely unfazed by the fact that his former girlfriend is making a spectacle of herself in front of the entire school. I guess it really is over between them.

As the night wears on, I take inventory of all my couples. There’s lots of hand holding and slow dancing and flirty giggles. Jolene and Brendon need to get a room. And Amy Wellbourn—the freshman tuba player I set up with drummer Brent Bartkowski—positively glows as the two of them sway to an Adele song.

And then there’s Anita. For the first half of the night, she keeps to herself and a few friends, but somewhere between the Whip and the Quan, she and Robbie Yother totally hook up. They’re on each other like butter on bread, and Anita looks as though she’s having a blast.

“Lexi!” Jerod shakes my shoulder. “Are you okay? Where have you been all night?”

“What do you mean? I’ve been right here.” I know what he means, of course. Enough worrying about everyone else. “Come on. Let’s dance.” I grab his hand and lead him onto the floor. This is my prom, too. And if Anita can get over Jose Ramos in the span of two songs, maybe I can truly get past a certain crush on a certain guy who happens to have kissed a certain date at least six times tonight. Not that I’ve been counting.