Maya arrived at my house three hours before prom with a curling iron, two dresses, and the specific determined energy of someone who'd decided tonight was going to be perfect whether the universe cooperated or not.
"Sit," she ordered, setting up shop on my bedroom floor the way she had for every school dance since freshman year. "We're doing your hair first, and you're not allowed to touch your phone until it's finished."
"I wasn't going to touch my phone."
"You were absolutely going to touch your phone." She sectioned off a piece of my hair with practiced efficiency. "Kai's picking you up at seven. You've checked the time four times since I walked in."
I let her have that one, because she wasn't wrong, and because the nervous, hopeful flutter in my chest had been there all day, imposs
