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“Isa!”

The sobs wrenched themselves free. She backed into a corner and sank, the tulle of her gown floated up like a cloud with a tiny whoosh.

Taylor fell to his knees at her, repeating her name like a balm.

“Talk to me, please.”

He pulled her gloved hands away to reveal smeared makeup on the palms. He framed her face and smudged off the rest of the stains. His hands were so tender.

“Leave me alone!” she cried.

Taylor sat back on his heels. He stared out the glass doors into the night. She followed his gaze, and her hiccuping filled the silence, along with the muffled, up-tempo music echoing from the gym.

He finally asked, “Are you pissed at me for coming to your house drunk?”

“Like you are now?” she said, sullen. “Go back to Fiona.” Analise unpeeled her gloves. She squeezed her nails into the fleshy underside of her pinky.

His tone matched hers. “Go back to Dave.”

She said nothing and watched the wind tug on helpless leaves.

“Why are you ignoring me?” he urged. “I thought . . . ” He shook his head.

“My mother found out about you drinking, and me sneaking out.” Fresh tears burned her eyes. “I’m not allowed to speak to you.”

Taylor took her in his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he said against her cheek.

Analise pushed him away. “Don’t—don’t. I can’t⁠—”

“She’ll get over it. She has to.”

“She won’t.”

“You’re practically eighteen, are you going to let her tell you what to do?”

“She’s all I have!”

Taylor gripped her wrists, and she smelled the alcohol on his breath. “No, she’s not. Listen to me. I didn’t kiss Fiona. She kissed me—I can’t kiss one girl when I’m in love with another.” Taylor let go. He yanked the crown off his head and ran a hand through his hair. He pressed a fist to his forehead. “I’m such a fucking mess over you. I have been ever since I saw you in the office that first day, when you were picking up something. I can’t explain it, Isa, what I felt, you have to believe me. I just never thought you’d . . . ”

“Never thought I’d what?” She looked up and cried harder but for very different reasons now.

Clicking footsteps rounded the corner. It was Missy. She planted her hands on her hips. “Taylor? Ana? Everyone and their mom is looking for you! It’s time for the court to dance, and we can’t exactly do it without you two.” She paused and regarded them. “Ana, are you okay?”

“We’ll be there in a sec,” said Taylor, steadying his words.

Missy threw up her hands and left, her long skirt swish-swashing.

Taylor handled Analise’s shoes and placed them on her feet while she furiously swiped at her face.

“Everyone will know I’ve been crying,” she said.

Taylor took her face into his hands and studied it. He thumbed the skin under her eyes as if wiping away mascara streaks and blew softly on her cheeks. “Let’s get this over with.” He took his crown, put her gloves inside his tux pocket, and threaded his hands into hers. The gesture, slow and deliberate, felt as if the nerve endings on their skin were wiring themselves into the other’s. He raised her to her feet, and they walked back to the gym.

Once they hit the doorway, they broke contact. A fanfare of impatient students eyed them, clapping. Grateful for the near darkness, save for the colorful strobes of the DJ, no one would know she’d been crying.

The Verve’s “Bitter Sweet Symphony” began to play. The DJ announced the court members one by one, the song’s wailing violin chords leading each couple out to the floor.

They awaited their moment, fingers brushing. The pulse in her ears drowned the proclamation for King and Queen.