I smooth my hands over the satin of the navy-blue dress, shifting side to side to catch the sequins in the lighting. The tiny sparkles remind me of stars scattered across the night sky. It's elegant, pretty, and perfectly subtle, even with the way the fabric hugs my curves.

"Well?" I ask, turning to face Tori, who's flipping through a rack of pastel gowns behind me.

Tori glances up, holding a bright pink dress in one hand and a sleek baby blue one in the other. "Ten out of ten," she says with a grin. "Billy will lose his mind if he sees you in that."

"You said that about the last three dresses," I sigh, putting my hands on my hips and trying not to frown. I turn back to the mirror, tugging at the neckline, suddenly unsure.

"Because it's true," Emily says, stepping out of her dressing room in a lavender dress with a flowy skirt. "You could wear a brown paper bag, and Billy would still look at you like you're a four-course meal."

Tori laughs. "Seriously. It doesn't matter what you wear; the guy's head over heels."

Heat creeps up my neck at their teasing, but I can't help the small smile tugging at my lips. "You guys are ridiculous," I mutter, but despite their reassurance, I still feel unsure.

It's not like I don't know how Billy feels—he's been so different, softer and more open. The way he looks at me, like I'm the only thing that matters, is enough to make my heart race, but this is his senior prom and the only prom the two of us will attend together. I try not to linger on that fact for too long, knowing that the faster we approach the end of the school year – the faster we approach the inevitable discussion of our future.

Billy's a senior this year – graduating in just a few short weeks – and it's unclear what that meant for him – or for us. I knew the state school a few towns over was scouting him for basketball, his dad had been pushing the military, and Billy was itching to go back to California. No matter what – I know he won't be in Hawkins much longer and who knows where I fit in those plans, if he remembered to include me at all.

"You're overthinking it," Tori says, like she's reading my mind. I watch as she hangs the pink dress back on the rack with a dramatic sigh, shaking her head at me. "That's the one, Lace."

Emily nods. "Totally. Picture it—Billy in a sharp suit, you in that dress, prom photos looking like something out of a magazine."

I force a laugh, trying to let myself relax as I turn to the mirror again. The dress does look good, like it was made for me – made for the night I was imagining in my head. I brush my hands over the fabric again, trying to quiet the flicker of doubt in the back of my mind. Prom isn't supposed to be so complicated – it's supposed to be fun.

"I wish the new mall was open," Emily says, pulling my attention back to her. She's picking at the tulle on a lavender dress with a frown, "What if I end up wearing the same dress as someone?"

Tori smirks, hanging another dress back on the rack. "I wouldn't worry, Em. I don't think anyone else wants to walk around looking like a piece of cotton candy."

Emily snorts, twirling in front of the mirror to puff out the tulle. "You're right," she laughs, stretching to unzip the dress. "But that's my point, Starcourt is supposed to have everything – better stores, better food, better movie theater. Hawkins is finally catching up with the rest of the world."

"Better parking would be a miracle," Tori agrees, glancing out the shop window where my truck is parked at the nearest meter. "Too bad we'll miss the opening day when we're at tennis camp."

"If," I remind her, giving her a pointed look in the mirror, "if we get into the camp."

"Lacy," Tori sighs, rolling her eyes dramatically, "you can be such a downer."

"And you're both bound to go now that I'm graduating," Emily agrees with a laugh. She's teasing, because out of the four years she's been on the team, Emily has only been selected twice. Tennis for her was an extra-curricular for her college application, it was never about the sport.

I smile, though my thoughts are still elsewhere. Tennis camp has been the last thing on my mind, at this point in the season it doesn't matter if I stay or not. Tori still held my place as Captain and my overall record wasn't anything to write home about. I glance at my reflection, ignoring their chatter about the trials and focus on the way the dress fits me perfectly, and I suddenly wonder if I'm trying too hard to make one night feel like it can fix everything.

"I'm telling you, Lace," Tori says, her voice cutting through my thoughts, "that dress is it. If you don't get it, I'll never talk to you again."

Her teasing pulls a real laugh from me this time, and I shake my head. "Fine, I'll get it," I say, smoothing my hands over the fabric again. It's impossible not to imagine Billy's reaction, and for now, I let myself believe that's enough.

We check out, the cashier carefully bagging the dress while Tori and Emily debate the best color for their corsages. Emily insists that red is bold and daring, while Tori declares that anything white is classy and elegant. Their banter fills the air as we walk into the crisp spring afternoon, the bright sunlight making me squint as I lay out the dress bag carefully into the back of my truck.

"I still can't believe prom is next week," Emily sighs, leaning against the bed of the truck. "And then graduation? Soon Hawkins is going to be a thing of the past."

My stomach twists, but I force a smile, shutting the truck door. "Yeah, you'll be forgetting about us little people in no time," I tease, knowing Emily would be attending college in New York in the fall.

Tori rolls her eyes, smirking as she loops an arm through Emily's. "She'll be missing us before she knows it."

"Hopefully," I say lightly, though the weight of my own words settles in my chest. Prom, graduation, summer – it's all lined up, pushing forward even though I'm not sure I'm ready. And then there's Billy, my hand reaching up to adjust the pendant out of habit. He's the one part of the future that I felt so sure of and uncertain of at the same time.

"Are you going to come with us to the diner?" Tori asks, but I shake my head, heading around the front of the truck.

"I promised Dustin I'd help him with something," I say, but Emily laughs, nudging Tori.

"She's got a hot date with Billy – it's Saturday night," Emily teases, lifting her brows suggestively.

"Sorry," Tori teases, fanning herself with a wide grin, "I always get their Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday night dates confused."

I laugh softly, climbing into the driver's seat to escape their teasing. "I'll see you guys tomorrow," I call shutting the door. "Don't overthink your corsages."

As I pull out of the lot, I glance in the rearview mirror to see Tori and Emily still laughing, linked arm in arm as they walk down the street. It's a small comfort – one normal thing in a sea of uncertainty.

When I pull into the driveway, Dustin is already on the porch, a book in his lap and a collection of scrap metal scattered around him. He looks up as I park, his face brightening. "About time," he calls, standing up to meet me. "I'm starving."

I roll my eyes, grabbing my dress bag and slinging it over my arm. "Nice to see you too." My eyes track the mess of the porch, lifting my dress bag a little higher when I notice the grease spill. "Mom's going to kill you," I add, stepping over the tools.

He follows me into the house, picking up one of the nice decorative towels mom uses in the guest bathroom to wipe his dirty hands. "That your prom dress?"

"Yep," I reply, carefully tucking it into my closet, eyeing his dirty hands with slight unease.

"Can I see it?" he asks, leaning against the doorframe. I shoo him away, closing my bedroom door tightly once he's in the hallway.

I pause, eyeing the mess on his clothes, hands, and face. "When you're not disgusting," I sigh, following him into the kitchen, "what are you doing anyways."

"Building a radio," he shrugs, like this is a normal activity for a fourteen year old, "trying to at least."

"You can't wait until you go to nerd camp in a few weeks?" I tease, pulling out the casserole mom had prepped the night before.

"You don't wait until tennis camp to play tennis," Dustin points out, plopping down at the kitchen table.

"Okay, nerd," I sigh, shooting him a look over my shoulder, "tennis doesn't make a mess on mom's freshly painted porch."

"I'll clean it up," he argues before rolling his eyes. "You never make it a big deal when Billy makes a mess in the driveway fixing your truck."

"Because Billy doesn't smear it all over the house," I reply, tossing him a damp towel to wipe the greasy finger marks from the dining room table.

"Plus you like when he's all manly and handy," Dustin teases, making loud kissing noises.

"Are you reading my journal again?" I ask, swatting at him with the dish towel.

"You really have to find a better spot than under your mattress, Lace," he laughs, ducking as I snap the towel at him again. He hurries from the kitchen, making it out the front door before I can catch him.

I shake my head and let him go, turning back to finish preparing dinner for Dustin and Mom, putting the casserole dish in the oven, cleaning up the breakfast dishes. The house is settling into the quiet lull that always comes right before Billy shows up, the anticipation slowly building within me. I glance at the clock on the wall – 6:30. He'll be here soon.

I can hear Dustin stomping around the porch, hollering something about an antenna. I roll my eyes, grabbing my jacket and the kitchen timer before heading outside. The evening air has chilled slightly, and I am not surprised to find that the porch is even messier than before.

"Clean this up before Mom gets home," I call, nudging a pile of greasy bolts with my foot. "Or she's going to kill us both."

Dustin waves me off, hunched over a coil of wire. "Yeah, yeah. Don't you have something to do?"

I glance at my watch and resist the urge to check my reflection in the window. "I'm waiting for Billy."

Dustin smirks without looking up. "You're going to wear that?"

"What do you know about anything?" I ask, flicking at his ear. "Besides, we're only going to the movies."

I sit on the porch next to him, toying with the tools that are scattered around. Dustin mutters to himself about the wire being tangled, shaking his head,clearly frustrated.

"What's this for anyway?" I ask, taking the wire from him to try to untangle it myself.

"It's a radio," he reminds me, now reaching for a flat piece of sheet metal.

"You have a radio," I point out, "you know, the one your friends never shut up on?"

"This is a HAM radio," he sighs, but I can see a twinge of a smile on his face, "long distance communication."

"Are you trying to contact aliens?" I ask and glances at me, clearly teetering on annoyance.

He opens his mouth, but the low rumble of Billy's Camaro in the distance cuts through the quiet, and my heart skips like it always does. The headlights sweep over the house as he pulls into the driveway, the engine growling as he shifts into park. I glance at Dustin, who is pretending like he's too busy to notice. There was still a tension there – a loyalty that Dustin had to Steve after their fight in October, and despite my relationship with Billy now, I didn't push to fix it, knowing that Billy couldn't care less about what my brother thought of him and vice versa.

Billy steps out of the car, adjusting the collar of his jean jacket, before approaching with a smirk. "You ready to go?" he asks, his voice warm and teasing, "Or you gotta tuck the kid into bed first?"

"Ha-ha," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm as Billy helps me to my feet. I place a hand on the top of Dustin's head, messing with his hair, "Make sure you take the casserole out of the oven when the timer goes off."

Dustin nods, barely glancing up. I roll my eyes, allowing Billy to slowly pull me down the porch steps, "And clean up this mess!"

Billy chuckles, snaking an arm around my waist as we walk to the Camaro. "What's he doing?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder. I can tell Billy's interest is slightly piqued, the way it always is whenever there is a pile of tools, or something to be fixed laying around.

"Nerd stuff," I sigh as Billy opens the passenger door, "trust me, I barely understand."

Billy smirks, tucking a piece of my loose hair behind my ear before closing the passenger door. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with leather and cigarettes fills the car, and I feel the worries of the day melt away.

He settles into the driver's seat and leans toward me, his hand brushing my jaw as his lips meet my skin. It's slow and deliberate, his touch grounding me in a way that only he can. His lips trail along the curve of my jawline until they reach the corner of my mouth. I tilt my face to meet him fully, the kiss deepening as his free hand moves to rest lightly on my waist, pulling me just a bit closer.

The heat of his touch is dizzying and everything fades into the distance. All that matters is the way his lips feel against mine, his hand holding me like I might disappear, and the way he kisses me, like it's the first and last time. When we finally pull apart, his lips curve into a lazy grin, his forehead resting lightly against mine. "We keep this up, and we'll be really late."

"We can catch the later movie," I murmur, my fingers reaching out to play with the curls behind his ears.

His grin widens, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "Don't tempt me, Lace, but we're going to be late."

Reluctantly, he pulls back, starting the car with a rumble of the engine. The moment lingers between us as he pulls out of the driveway, his hand finding mine to give it a brief squeeze before resting it back on the gearshift.

"Why can't we see the later movie?" I ask, eyeing him suspiciously now as he turns onto the main road. Billy Hargrove has never turned down the idea of a later movie if it meant a little extra time with me in the Camaro.

Billy glances at me, licking his lips, before reaching for my hand again. "There's a slight change of plans," he admits carefully, "we're going to meet Tommy and Carol at Millstone Barbecue and then go see Rambo."

"What?" I ask, feeling my jaw drop slightly. "You promised we'd go to the drive-in and watch the re-release of Psycho."

"I know what I promised," he says evenly, squeezing my hand, "but I checked and Psycho will be there next weekend."

"Prom's next weekend, which we already made plans to hangout with your friends for that too," I remind him, trying to keep the annoyance from reaching my voice.

Billy flashes me a lopsided grin, a clear sign he knows that he's entering deep water. His thumb brushing soothing circles over the back of my hand, "Baby, it's just dinner and a movie. I'll make it up to you."

I narrow my eyes at him, not quite ready to give in. "And what am I supposed to do all night? Fake nice with Carol?"

He chuckles, pulling his hand from mine and resting it on the gearshift again. "I know, Lace, but it's one night."

I lean back against the seat, crossing my arms as I study his profile. "God forbid, King Billy tells his loyal followers no."

Billy shakes his head, clearly amused by my sarcasm. "Stop being a pain in the ass," he says with a smirk, his eyes darting toward me briefly. "I hang out with your friends, you have to hangout with mine."

I roll my eyes, turning to stare out the window of the darkened streets of Hawkins. "It would be a lot easier if Tommy shut his big mouth every once in a while."

"Maybe we'll get lucky," Billy mutters, his voice soft, but carrying a slight edge now. He shifts gears smoothly, pulling into the parking lot of Millstone Barbecue. He takes a moment to rest a hand on my thigh, squeezing gently. "I'll make it worth your while," he promises, his voice low and teasing, slightly suggestive.

I sigh, but I can't help the small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. "You better."

Millstone Barbecue is busy, the warm glow of the neon sign spilling into the parking lot. Inside, the smoky scent of grilled meat and barbecue sauce clings to the air. It's crowded, but not overwhelming, with a mix of families, couples, and small groups gathered around checkered tablecloths.

Tommy and Carol are already seated in a corner booth when we walk in, their loud laughter cutting through the low hum of conversations. Carol lifts her hand in a halfhearted wave, her bangles clinking together as she leans closer to Tommy to whisper something. Whatever it is, it makes him laugh harder, and I can already feel my patience wearing thin.

"Here we go," I mutter under my breath, earning a soft chuckle from Billy.

"Play nice," he murmurs, resting a hand on the small of my back as we approach the table.

"Look who finally showed up," Tommy greets with a smirk, slapping a hand on the edge of the table. "I was starting to think you ditched us."

Billy shrugs nonchalantly, effortlessly shifting into his cool and uncaring persona. He waits for me to slide into the booth next to Carol, before sitting down beside me, tossing a casual arm across the back of the booth. "We would've if I didn't think you'd cry about it," he says, his tone casual but sharp enough to make Tommy lean back, reeling his loud personality in.

Carol eyes me cooly, her grin wide. "Lacy, you look so cute," she says, her tone dripping with faux sweetness.

I resist the urge to scowl, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks, Carol."

Billy's hand subtly squeezes my shoulder as Carol turns her attention back to the menu, muttering something I can't quite catch. I let it slide, determined not to let her ruin the night completely.

The conversation shifts as the server takes our orders, Tommy launching into a story about the party he plans to throw after their graduation. Billy listens, chiming in occasionally, but it's clear he's only half-engaged. He leans back in the booth, his arm now casually draped across my shoulders, the other tapping tightly on the table.

"So," Carol says, cutting Tommy off mid-sentence, "are you going to the state school with Tommy?"

Billy glances at me briefly, but I can't make out the look on his face. It's carefully guarded so that even I can't read his mind. "Haven't made the call yet," he answers with a shrug of his shoulders.

I swallow, carefully biting my lip at his casual response. Something tells me he's not telling the full truth, like he has made up his mind, but he's not ready to share.

"You have a few more weeks," Tommy nods in agreement, leaning forward, "but you gotta get out of Hawkins while you can. It's where dreams go to die."

"What about California?" Carol asks, her eyes subtly flicking to my face, her voice edging on playful. "You'll fit right back in – tan, blonde, trouble. It'll be just like that beach movie."

Billy chuckles, but I feel my stomach twist uncomfortably. I can't help but notice the way his breathing picks up at the mention of California, how his arm drops from my shoulders, like leaving Indiana, leaving me, is already a done deal.

"The scholarship's a killer option though," Tommy continues, "you aren't getting one of those in California."

Billy nods, his expression thoughtful. "Everything's still on the table," he agrees, glancing towards me again, "but Hawkins, like you said, it's where dreams go to die."

His words strike me and I glance down at the table, tracing the edge of my water glass with my thumb. The laughter and chatter around me seem to dull as my thoughts spin. I've always known that Billy wanted out of Hawkins, but hearing him talk about it so casually, so dismissively, like he's already halfway out the door, leaves a hollow ache in my chest.

"Earth to Lacy," Carol says, waving a hand in front of my face. "You okay?"

I force a smile, knowing full well that Carol has caught on to my sudden shift in mood. "I'm fine," I lie, nudging Billy with my elbow, "I just need to use the restroom."

"I'll come with you," Carol grins and I have a sudden urge to spill my water into her lap as she slides out after me. I restrain myself, turning towards the restroom without another glance in her direction, but I can hear her footfalls following close behind me.

Inside the restroom, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. The faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, and I grip the edge of the sink, starting at my reflection in the smudged mirror. My face looks calm, maybe a little pale, but if you looked close enough, you'd never know that chest is aching inside.

Hawkins is where dreams go to die.

I know he didn't mean it personally, but it feels personal – like a knife slipping between my ribs. He doesn't even know what those dreams look like, if I factor into any of them yet. I turn on the faucet, washing my hands in the cold water, just to give me something to do.

"You had to know that was coming." Carol's voice startles me, and I glance up to see her leaning casually against a bathroom stall, arms crossed over her chest.

"I'm not in the mood, Carol." I reply curtly, grabbing a paper towel to dry my hands. "I actually came in here to get away from you."

She laughs, the sharp sound echoing against the tile. "Billy's always been bigger than Hawkins, bigger than you," Carol sighs, shaking her head with faux sympathy, "you can't tell me you really imagined a future with him?"

I clench my jaw, refusing to let her bait me. "You don't know anything about us, Carol and frankly, I stopped giving a shit about what you thought of me a long time ago."

Her smile falters, a flash of irritation crossing her face before she quickly recovers. "Aw, Lace," she coos, placing a hand on my shoulder "of course you care. I'm just looking out for you, girl to girl."

"Don't." My voice is sharper now, shrugging her hand off my shoulder. "Why don't you worry about you and Tommy when he leaves for college in the fall."

Carol's brows knit together and she fights the frown that threatens to crack her porcelain face. "I don't have to," she laughs, "Tommy's going to the state school to stay close to me, you know, like any committed boyfriend would."

Carol steps toward the door, throwing me another fake, syrupy smile. "Face it, doll. This is the beginning of the end. Billy's going to burn through you and keep going."

I watch Carol saunter out, her confidence radiating off her, leaving me alone in the stark fluorescent of the restroom.

This is the beginning of the end.

I want to believe we're enough to keep him here, but Billy's not the kind of guy who ever stays. He's been running his whole life – from his father, from memories of his mother, from whatever makes him feel more than he wants to.

And maybe that's what makes him Billy – the fire in his eyes, the edge in his voice, but it's also the way he holds onto me like he's afraid to let go. Carol might have a point: fire flares up, burns bright, and leaves ashes behind.

What makes me think we'll be any different?