The room feels quiet, too quiet, except for the low hum of the curling iron balanced on my vanity. I wrap another section of hair around it, watching as it spirals into a soft curl before letting it fall against my shoulder. My reflection stares back at me – nearly ready but not quite.

A dark blue dress in my closet, loose waves framing my face, and the necklace Billy gave me resting lightly against my collarbone. Perfect, at least on the surface, but my finger still hovers over my lip gloss, trembling slightly, as if the wrong shade might tip the balance tonight.

"It's fine," I whisper to myself, trying to drown out the doubt bubbling in my chest. "It's prom. It's supposed to be fun."

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Dustin asks from the doorway, smirking slightly when I meet his eyes in the mirror.

"No," I snap, picking up the curling iron again, but feeling Dustin's eyes still watching. "What do you want?"

"Nothing," Dustin says, but I hear the squeak of my bed as he sprawls across it like he owns the place. "You look pretty."

"Thanks," I murmur, adjusting a loose strand of hair and refusing to meet his eyes.

He rolls onto his side, propping his head on his hand. "So, what's the deal? Are you and Billy gonna have the whole cheesy prom night, or is he too cool for that?"

I smile, twisting the curling iron onto its stand. "Don't you have something better to do? Dungeons and Dorks at the Wheelers?"

Dustin grins, clearly unfazed. "Mike's grounded," he says, shrugging, then narrows his eyes at me. "You're deflecting, by the way."

"Don't go Mom on me," I sigh, turning to face him. "I'm not deflecting."

"Sure you are," Dustin argues, sitting up now. "You get those wrinkles between your eyebrows."

"What could I possibly be deflecting from?" I ask, ignoring him.

"From the fact that you're nervous," he says matter-of-factly, sitting up now. "About Billy. About tonight."

My stomach tightens. "I'm not nervous," I lie, feeling my brows furrow deeper. "It's just … prom. No big deal."

Dustin snorts, flopping back onto my bed. "No big deal," he mocks.

I sigh, turning away from him to refocus on my makeup. My brother stays, talking aimlessly about his radio, sounding like he's thinking out loud rather than trying to include me in his plans. I listen half-heartedly, but his voice becomes white noise in the background as I swipe on a layer of soft lip gloss.

"What do you think of California?" I blurt out suddenly, cutting off Dustin's monologue.

"I don't…" he responds slowly, lifting his head to look at me. "Why?"

I freeze mid-swipe, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Nothing. Forget it."

Dustin shakes his head, rolling onto his stomach and propping his chin on his hands. "Lace," he calls, voice slightly firmer, "spill it."

"What if I went to college in California?" I ask finally, capping my lip gloss and placing it carefully on the vanity.

"Is this a Billy thing?" Dustin asks, dragging out the words like he's unsure how to respond. I shoot him a glance, but he doesn't back down, just stays there, waiting for an answer.

"It might be a Lacy thing," I say, but my voice falters halfway through.

"That'd be cool," Dustin nods slowly, studying me, "if it's actually a Lacy thing."

I press my lips together, forcing an easy smile in his direction. "You wouldn't be mad?"

Dustin snorts, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Only a little," he admits, but his wide gummy grin tells me he's teasing.

I turn back to the mirror, checking my reflection one more time. "It's just a thought," I murmur, twisting a strand of hair between my fingers.

Dustin doesn't press, but his voice softens. "It'd be cool," he repeats, laying back down. "Max says Ventura has this insane arcade," he adds, grinning. "She swears it's better than ours."

I bite the inside of my cheek, feeling a flicker of guilt. I haven't made any decisions, any plans, but hearing Dustin admit he'd be okay doesn't give me the reassurance I'd hoped for.

Dustin rolls off the bed, stretching dramatically behind me. "Don't be nervous, Lace. You look really pretty."

I roll my eyes but smile despite myself, turning back to the mirror to double-check my hair. "You think so?"

"No, but Mom sent me up here to tell you to hurry up." Dustin teases, voice now casual, but I can hear the hint of sincerity in it.

"Get out," I say, tossing my hairbrush in his direction, though it lands harmless on the floor. He grins, ducking out the door with a laugh.

The room feels quieter than before, the absence of Dustin's voice leaving a strange stillness in its place. I let out a long breath, staring at my reflection again. My fingers trace the pendant around my neck as I try to focus on the details – the soft curls of my hair, the delicate fabric of my dress hanging behind me. Everything is in place, just like it's supposed to be, but I can't shake the nervous flutter in my chest.

I stand and move to my closet, where my dress hangs neatly from its hanger. The deep blue fabric catches the light, shimmering faintly as I slide it from its place. I step into the dress, letting my mind wander to the night ahead – the photos, the dancing, the way Billy will look in his suit. I pull the zipper up slowly, smoothing the fabric over my hips before turning back to the mirror. The dress fits perfectly, just like it did in the store. I take a step closer, adjusting the neckline so it sits just right against my collarbone.

This is supposed to be the night – a perfect memory to hold onto, but already I'm itching for it to be over.

A familiar rumble of an engine outside pulls me from my thoughts. My heart skips,

and I walk down the length of the hallways to catch Dustin and Mom peeking out the window.

"You're so embarrassing," I sigh, waving them away, but taking a moment to watch him myself. The Camaro is parked in the driveway, and Billy is taking a long drag on his cigarette before shrugging on his suit jacket. I can't help but smile, watching as he checks his reflection in the mirror, fixing his hair, and straightening his bowtie. It's a rare moment for him, his regular cockiness slipping for just a moment to show his nerves.

"You two are going to have so much fun," Mom sighs, as I let the curtain fall back into place. Her hand gently straightens out the skirt of my dress before she meets my eyes, "Are you nervous?"

Dustin laughs from the couch and I fight to relax my face, shaking my head before sticking my tongue out at my brother. "No," I lie again, but my mom smiles knowingly, "I'm just excited."

"Good," Mom says before picking up her camera from the table. She waves Dustin over to stand next to me and takes a few shots of us together. "You're staying at Tori's tonight?" she asks, as I wrap an arm around my brother's shoulders.

"Yeah," I say, this is the second lie of the night, but it's one that rolls off the tongue easier. My brother laughs again, but I pinch the soft spot of his arm in warning as mom snaps another picture, oblivious to the exchange. "I'll be home in the morning." I add as the doorbell finally rings, pulling Mom's attention from us.

"I heard that Tommy is having a huge party afterwards," Dustin mutters as Mom opens the front door. I glance towards her as she gushes over Billy in the foyer and quickly flick Dustin's nose.

"Do you ever mind your own business?" I hiss, but Dustin's grin widens as he shrugs his shoulders.

"Five dollars and I'll cover for you when you're hungover in the morning," he bargains quietly as Mom leads Billy into the living room

"Three," I mutter through clenched teeth, "or I'll get Steve to kick your ass for being annoying."

"What about Steve?" Mom asks, still smiling as she snaps a picture of Billy in front of the fireplace. He lifts a brow towards me, I shake my head, shoving Dustin away from me.

"We'll probably see him at Enzo's, right?" I say, taking my spot next to Billy, who wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me closer. "The basketball team is meeting there before prom."

"Right," Billy agrees, but his voice is tight as he glances between me and Dustin, clearly aware that I'm not telling the full truth. "You clean up well, Henderson."

I smile, the nerves from earlier finally washing away. Billy's eyes linger on mine for a moment longer than usual, and I feel my cheeks flush. His hand tightens on my waist, before Mom adjusts the camera, asking us to pose by the mantle.

"Stand up straight, Lacy," she instructs, waving her hand. "And Billy, tilt your head a little to the left. Perfect!"

Dustin snickers from the couch, and I shoot him a glare. Mom lowers the camera sighing contentedly. "You two look beautiful together," she says, clasping her hands. "Billy, your parents didn't want to come over for pictures?"

It's hard to ignore the way his hand tightens on my waist or the way he licks his lips as he fights for a believable response. Of course his dad didn't want pictures, but my mom would never understand that. "They were busy," he shrugs, his charming smile finding his face again.

"That's too bad. I'll make sure to print them a copy," Mom grins before waving us towards the door. "Now, one more by the car."

Billy glances at me, rolling his eyes subtly, and I have to bite back a laugh as we move towards the door. I'm not sure which is worse, an absent parent or an overbearing one.

He takes his keys from his pocket, twirling them around his finger once Mom has taken her a few photos in front of the Camaro. "You ready to get out of here?" he asks, voice low enough so that only I can hear.

I nod, my heart fluttering. "Desperate."

Mom stops us just before Billy can close the passenger door, snapping one last picture. "Be safe, you two! And have fun!"

"Always safe," Billy replies smoothly, flashing her a charming smile reserved only for adults he wants to impress. I suppress another eye, waving my mom away as Billy shuts the door for me.

"You look incredible tonight," he says, his voice softer now that we're alone. His hand brushes against mine before he shifts the Camaro into reverse, pulling out of the driveway in one smooth motion.

"You're not so bad yourself," I say, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek.

Billy smirks, his cheek still warm under my lips as he turns onto Main Street. The quiet hum of the radio fills the space between us making the night feel like it might actually live up to the expectations that I have been picturing in my mind.

"You know," I start, breaking the silence, "the tennis team and their dates are going to the Chinese restaurant off of fifth. We could probably squeeze in."

It's a last ditch effort to get out of being around Billy's friends. I am in no hurry to see Carol and Tommy, Nicole and Chuck, and Heather and whatever poor soul from the basketball team she conned into taking her. Even the thought of Steve being there with his date isn't enough to make the dinner seem enjoyable.

Billy sighs, his voice teetering towards the familiar edge of annoyance. "Carol reserved a table."

Of course she did.

I glance out the window, the lights of shop windows glowing onto the edges of the sidewalk. My nerves resurface, twisting in my stomach as I picture Carol's sharp smile and Heather's over-the-top flirty giggle. Nicole will be nice enough, but it'll be impossible for her to ignore the dynamics at play.

"Since when do you care about reservations?" I ask, still searching for a way out.."

Billy taps his fingers on the wheel, his eyes darting toward me as we roll to a stop at the light. "Come on, Princess. I thought you loved Enzo's."

"It's not the food I'm worried about," I sigh, crossing my arms over my chest.

He chuckles, low and easy. "Don't overthink it, Henderson. It's just a prom."

It's not just a prom, but I don't bother to argue. Instead, I turn my focus back to the road as Enzo's comes into view, its warm lights spilling out the windows. A cluster of familiar faces stands near the entrance – Carol, Tommy, Heather, Nicole. They wave as Billy pulls into a parking spot, their smiles too bright, too rehearsed.

Billy circles the car, opening my door before offering his hand. I take it, but notice how he's focused on the group at the door, his hand almost loose within my own.

"Our table's ready," Carol calls, her voice dripping with faux excitement. "Most of the team is already here."

"Let's get this over with," Billy says smoothly, his arm slipping around my waist as a cocky smirk settles across his face. The switch-up is smooth, unrecognizable to them, but it's like driving a wedge further between us.

I force a smile, suddenly hyper aware of Billy's hand on my hip and the way Heather's eyes flick to it and then to the necklace that sits against my chest. She cocks an eyebrow, exchanging a subtle look with Carol before we're ushered inside and toward a table.

"Billy," Carol chirps, pointing to a seat across from Tommy, "sit there."

He hesitates a moment, noticing that the seat on the other side of me is already occupied by Steve. Billy licks his lips and I can see the choices that are laid out in front of him. Is he going to push back, refuse Carol's command, and let his jealousy of Steve take over or is he going to play it off and stew in silence until we're back in the safety and coverage of the Camaro.

My stomach begins twisting even further once I notice Heather taking the seat on Billy's other side. Nicole catches my eye, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Actually," Nicole starts, her voice calm and measured, "why don't we switch with Lacy and Billy. I need to catch Heather up on cheer anyway."

Carol waves her off with a laugh. "Oh, don't be silly, Nicole. You two will have plenty of time to catch up later."

I glance at Billy, but he nods for me to sit down, pulling out my chair. A line has been drawn in the sand and something tells me that Billy and I are not on the same side. I settle, trying to ignore the way Heather leans towards Billy as he places a careful arm on the back of my chair.

The basketball team seems to be split into two divisions. One that blindly follows Billy and the other that has an unwavering loyalty to Steve. I seem to be caught between the two, pulled in both directions as the conversations flow around me. Billy's loud, boisterous commentary mainly wins out. He's in full King Billy mode, tossing out jokes and leaning into the spotlight. I find even myself watching him closely, enamoured by the sharpness of his laughter and the easy confidence of his voice.

Steve clears his throat beside me, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "How long is this supposed to last?"

I glance at him, catching the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Not long I hope," I murmur, careful to keep my tone light.

"Do you know my date?" Steve asks, leaning back to show off a pretty blonde that is vaguely familiar.

"Megan, right?" I ask, leaning over Steve to hear her better. "We have English together?"

"Yeah," Megan smiles, almost looking as out of place as I am. "How's your paper on The Scarlet Letter going?"

"It's the most boring thing I've ever read," I admit as Megan laughs, "so not well."

Billy's laugh cuts through the air, drawing my attention back to him just as Heather leans towards him, playfully brushing his arm. My pulse quickens, and I shift in my seat, focusing on Steve again.

Steve's hand brushes mine under the table in subtle reassurance. "Ignore them," he mutters, glancing over my head towards Billy, "Carol's stirring the pot as usual."

"It's not just Carol," I hiss through my gritted teeth, trying to smile as the waiter takes our orders.

Billy's hand squeezes my shoulder, but touch feels hollow, more performative than reassuring, as his attention remains fixed on the other side of the table. Heather leans too close, Tommy laughs too loudly, and Billy's hand keeps absentmindedly petting my shoulder as if he doesn't really see me sitting here.

I clench my jaw, trying to focus on Steve's conversations with his date and his friends, though I feel like I've listened to the same story three times without absorbing a word. My pulse pounds in my ears, drowning out the overlapping conversations and the clatter of silverware as the dinner drags on.

Steve shoots me a small, sympathetic glance, but even his kindness feels muted in the chaos. He's trying, but not very hard, knowing better than to say anything with Billy sitting so close or keeping his attention off his own date for too long.

Finally, as the dinner comes to an end, Steve leans closer, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "You okay?"

I nod quickly, not trusting my voice and offering a tight smile. "Fine," I snap, though it's far from the truth.

Steve doesn't look convinced, his gaze darting toward Billy. "You sure? Because –"

"She said she's fine, Harrington," Billy's voice cuts in sharp and commanding. "Mind your own date."

Steve freezes for a second, his jaw tightening, hand gripping his glass of water a little tighter. "Speak for yourself," Steve warns, shooting Heather a pointed look, before turning his attention back to Megan. I can feel the heat rising in my face, embarrassment mixing with frustration as Billy's arm slides off my chair, his hand settling possessively on my lower back.

"Let's go," Billy mutters under his breath, standing abruptly as the waiter places the bill in front of Tommy. Billy tosses a few bills to Tommy without bothering to wait for him to split the check, "Let me know if I owe you more."

"You're leaving?" Tommy asks, but Carol places a hand on Tommy's shoulder, her eyes darting between Billy and me and then Steve and Heather.

A cold smile spreads across her face, like something worked out far better than she thought it would. "Let the lovebirds have a few minutes alone," she coos, eyes now settling on mine. "We'll see you soon, doll."

"Lace," Billy calls over his shoulder, his movements sharp and irritated as he reaches for my hand. "Let's go."

I glance at Steve, who gives a tight-lipped smile before turning back to his conversation with Megan. The group hardly notices us leaving as they dig out their wallets, trying to figure out how to split the bill twelve different ways.

Billy's grip on my hand is firm as he guides me out of the restaurant, but the tension in his shoulders is hard to miss. I try to focus on the cool night air when we step outside, praying that it will clear both our minds, before we settle back into the silence of the Camaro.

The door slams shut behind me, and Billy doesn't start the car right away. Instead, he lights a cigarette, his jaw clenching as he exhales a steam of smoke.

"What the hell was that?" I ask finally, unable to keep the bite out of my voice.

Billy turns towards me, his blue eyes sharp and unyielding. "What was what?"

"You know what," I snap. "The way you acted with Heather. The way you snapped at Steve."

Billy smirks, but there's no humor in it. "Oh I'm sorry," he drawls, exhaling smoke past his lips. "Did I embarrass you in front of King Steve?"

I groan, leaning back against the seat. "I don't care about Steve, Billy. I care about you letting Heather hang all over you."

Billy flicks the cigarette out the window, shaking his head with annoyance. "You're imagining things," he mutters, his voice flat.

"Oh sorry, that must have been someone else rubbing your arm all dinner," I shoot back, my frustration boiling over.

"You're such a hypocrite," he laughs bitterly. "I have to watch you exchange your little secret glances with Harrington all night because you want to keep lying to yourself and me that he doesn't mean shit to you."

"He's my friend," I argue, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks.

"And Heather's mine," he snaps. "Doesn't fucking feel great to hear that, does it?"

I turn away, looking out the window as people begin to file out of the restaurant. My eyes drop quickly when Steve carefully studies the tinted windows of the Camaro. "Maybe you should just ask Heather to go to California," I mutter, but the moment the words leave my mouth I want to swallow them back down.

I didn't mean it – at least not like that, but I wanted it to sting, to push an argument. I risk a glance at Billy, but his silence is worse than anything he could have said in return. His hands tighten around the wheel, the leather creaking faintly under his skin. Regret tightens my throat, but it's too late to take it back. For a moment, I think he might kick me out of the car but instead, he exhales a sharp breath, muttering something I can't catch, before finally starting the Camaro.

The engine roars, the noise causing a few of the girls outside to squeal in surprise as he rips out of the parking lot. I keep my eyes fixed on the window, my reflection blurred by the streetlights flashing by. The tension hangs heavy, both of us too stubborn – or maybe too hurt – to be the first to break it.

"I didn't mean it," I say softly, keeping my gaze on the passing scenery.

"You did," Billy mutters bitterly. "You're a shitty liar, Lace. But maybe you're right," he adds, his voice quieter now, like the fight has drained him. I wait for him to say more, but the silence returns. I force myself to look at him, his jaw is still set, like he's fighting to keep his emotions in check.

"I'm not – " I start, but the words catch in my throat. I don't know what I'm not? Jealous? Angry? Overthinking? He would know that I'm lying.

Billy glances at me, his blue eyes stormy under the dim light from the dashboard. "You want to tell me what you really want, Lacy?"

The question lingers, the same way it did between us that night in his room. I want to say something – anything – but the words don't come. I don't know what I want. Instead of answering, I fold my arms across my chest, retreating into the quiet as he speeds toward the school.

Billy lets out a humorless laugh, shaking his head as he shifts gears. "That's what I thought."

I should have known better. Billy doesn't do well with accusations or questions that he can't answer. And yet, I'd gone straight for the throat. I know Heather doesn't mean anything to him – it wasn't fair, none of this was– but I wanted to hurt him. For some stupid reason, this feels easier than telling him no, I won't go to California. The silence between us is earned and I had to accept my prize whether I wanted it or not.

He pulls into the parking lot, killing the engine with a sharp twist of his wrist. He doesn't move to get out right away, his hands still gripping the wheel as he stares straight ahead.

"Let's just get through this," he says finally, his voice quiet but resolute.

"It's just a prom, right?" I respond a weak attempt to lighten the mood, but notice the way Billy's eyes shoot downwards, the way he nervously licks his lips.

Billy circles around to my side, his expression unreadable as he offers his hand. I hesitate for a moment before taking it. His grip is firm but distant, like he's holding out an obligation rather than affection. I squeeze his hand lightly, hoping for anything in return, but he doesn't squeeze back. Voices and music spill into the night as we step onto the gym light. Couples laugh, hands intertwined, their smiles wide and easy, but Billy's grip on my hand feels unsteady, and the warmth of the lights does little to ease the growing chill between us. It feels like holding onto a tether that might snap at any moment and I'm not sure if either of us will reach out to catch the other when it does.