Her fingers slipped against mine. “Nice game.”

We both sat down on the bottom bleacher. Our knees were touching. I turned toward her, my shoulder grazing hers, and placed my hand on her back. She didn’t move. I slipped it up slowly, trailing my fingers under her hair. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back into my hand. Her whole neck was exposed and I wanted to kiss it so badly I started to salivate. But I controlled myself.

The kissing, as much as I wanted it, was not the ultimate goal here. One step at a time.

“Hey,” I said.

She opened her eyes and looked at me.

“Go to the prom with me,” I said, holding my breath.

Ally slowly smiled. She bent forward, grabbed the ball, and stood up. My hand dropped down. What the hell was she doing now?

She dribbled the ball methodically to center court, lifted it, and hit a sick and perfect three. The ball bounced back toward her and she stopped it with her foot.

“Hit that shot, and I’ll go to the prom with you,” she said.

I rolled my eyes. Man, she was really toying with me tonight. I shoved myself up off the bench and lifted the hem of my shirt to quickly wipe my face.

“Here.”

I held my hands up for the ball. She popped it up with the toe of her sneaker, then tossed it at me. I adjusted the ball a few times, spinning it between my palms. My pulse was racing. I had to make this shot. I had to. My pride, my prom—hell, my chances with Ally—were on the line. I walked over to her. She inched away so I could stand right where she had been standing. I lifted the ball, bent my knees, said a silent prayer, and took the shot.

The ball crashed against the backboard with a loud rattle, and bounced off into the night. My heart sunk.

“Ouch,” Ally said, grimacing.

In that moment I honestly thought she was pure evil.

“Guess that’s that,” I said, irritated.

Then she jogged over, picked up the ball, and brought it back. She held it out to me.

“Did I not mention you get unlimited chances?” she said, arching one eyebrow.

It took a second for what she was saying to sink in, but when it did, I smiled. And suddenly I didn’t even care that she was toying with me. I had my answer. We were going to the prom. Ally Ryan was going to be my date. Ally Ryan was going to be mine again.

With a grin, I took the ball from her, turned around, and let it fly.

june

O.M.G., you guys, Jake Graydon didn’t get into college.

           Come on! Not possible.

Not even one?

Not. Even. One. I just overheard him talking to his counselor. He was practically in tears.

Please. Couldn’t he, like, charm his way in?

He’s not a vampire, okay? He’s just a normal, very hot guy with zero powers of mind control.

           I don’t know about that. He does have a way of talking girls into—

That’s different. Hot guys are, like, a dime a dozen to college admissions boards.

Did I tell you guys my school has a three-to-one ratio of guys to girls?

Yes. You’ve told us. Hello? This is not about you and your future sexcapades.

           You’re right. You’re right. So what’s he gonna do?

I don’t know. But I heard they have an opening for a janitor here next year.

ally

The prom was completely amazing. Thanks to Chloe’s intervention, Faith’s pink, black, and white color scheme had been dropped, and now everything was blues and purples and greens. One side of the country club ballroom was decorated to evoke Paris during the daytime, with colorful flowers bursting from baskets, a carefully constructed Pont Neuf over a glimmering fake Seine, and Notre Dame painted on a mural that took up one entire wall. The food was laid out on graded tables, so it felt like browsing an outdoor market, and the waiters, with their trays of hors d’oeuvres, wore black cropped pants, white T-shirts, and berets. The other side of the room was decorated to look like Paris at night, with a huge Eiffel Tower lit up by twinkle lights and glittering fireworks painted onto the mural of the nighttime skyline. Prom photos were taken in front of the iconic tower, which in my humble opinion was way better than a toxic, nuclear mushroom cloud.

But the best part about prom? Jake hadn’t stopped holding my hand since we’d arrived.

“So what do you think? Should we do the formal pose thing and face each other or do the arms-around-you-from-behind thing?” he asked me as we stood on line to have our picture snapped.

I leaned back into his chest, savoring the feeling of having his body so close to mine again. “Arms-around-me-from-behind thing. Definitely.”

Jake grinned, and for a second I thought he was going to kiss me, but then the photographer called us up and the moment passed. I was kind of stunned that he hadn’t gone in for the kiss yet. Not at pre-prom pictures at Chloe’s house, not in the limo, not once at the table. I knew I’d thwarted a couple of attempts at my birthday, but I was still wary then, and yeah, maybe having some fun with him. But had I totally screwed it up? Was he never going to try again?

We stood together on the square of black velvet in front of the Eiffel Tower and toed the tiny masking-tape line. Jake slipped his arms around the waist of my deep purple, one-shouldered dress and I put my hands on top of his.

“All right, say ‘fromage!’” the photographer requested with a flourish.

Jake and I just smiled. The flash went off and we walked over to the computer screen to see how it had come out. Jake looked so happy, standing there with his arms around me. So giddy, almost. And I looked even giddier.

“That’s it. That’s our senior prom picture,” I mused quietly.

Jake squeezed my hand and rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna get weepy on me now, are you? Because we’ve only been here an hour. It’s not over yet.”

Just then the pounding dance music switched over to a slower song. I looked up at Jake and grinned. “No, it’s not.”

I tugged his hand and we strolled slowly to the center of the dance floor. My arms slid up around his neck and he held me close around my waist. So close I turned my head and rested my cheek against his chest. Nearby, Chloe was dancing with Will, David twirled Annie around as they laughed, Quinn and Hammond were practically melded together as one. Faith was just leading her date, some guy from Valley we’d never heard of until last week, onto the dance floor, and Shannen, who had decided to come solo, had momentarily snagged some other girl’s date. Lincoln was even there, dancing with Marni Burt, whose mother—perfectly—owned the homemade-candy store over in Westwood. I watched each of them for as long as they were in view, trying to solidify the moment in my mind. In a few weeks, we were going to say good-bye. After graduation, we might never be in the same place together again. Watching them now, it felt like they were already fading away.

“Hey,” Jake said.

I felt the word rumble through his chest. I leaned back to look up at him.

“Yeah?” I asked.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while,” he said.

My feet stopped moving. “What’s that?”

He smirked. Like I didn’t know. “Just promise me you won’t move this time.”

I smiled and tightened my grip around his neck. “I promise.”

“Good. Because you’re not getting away from me again,” he said quietly.

“No. You’re not getting away from me,” I replied.

But I felt the sting of it even as I said it. Because who knew where Jake was going to be next year? Who knew if we’d be able to make a long-distance relationship work? But I didn’t want to think about that now. I wanted to think about this. This moment. And what Jake had been wanting to do.