Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Woke Up in Love”
by Kygo, Gryffin, and Calum Scott
Meera
A part of me has always dreamed of tonight.
Not because I wanted to be prom queen or lose my virginity in a hotel room on a bed of roses, but, surprisingly, because I’d hoped it’d be exactly the way all the movies show it: I walk down the staircase in a sexy floor-length black dress and lock eyes with my date—the boy I love.
He’s waiting patiently for me beside my fathers.
When he sees me, he puts a hand to his heart and mouths “Wow,” too speechless to say anything else.
And I blush, probably for the first and only time in my life.
But tonight, Sushant is neither my date nor the one I love. Nobody is waiting for me at the foot of the staircase besides Dad and Appa. My dress is formfitting and black, but I’m too restless and anxious to look or feel sexy.
I’ve spent the last two weeks hashing out the Plan with Sushant and my friends and looking out for any risks that might come up.
But more challenging than that is finding the right words to tell Lucy how sorry I am, how much I love her, and how desperately I hope she’ll let herself love me back.
We had to cancel this month’s book club after Lucy emailed Dad her resignation letter.
It wouldn’t be right to do the club without her…
at least, not until I’ve shot my shot at forgiveness.
“You look beautiful, putta,” Appa says as I walk down from my room, Valeria behind me in her ruffled seafoam-blue dress.
A few people asked her to prom, but when she realized I was going solo, she turned them all down.
“We’ll go as friends with Ron and Brenda,” she insisted.
I can’t believe I ever took a friend like her for granted.
I smile at Appa and Dad, who’s wiping his tears from behind his glasses. “Thanks,” I mumble. We let them take photographs on their phones until we’re sick of posing, and then Dad drives us to the hotel ballroom where prom is happening.
The hotel is one of two fancy five-star places in Madre Maria.
A crowd of excited, dressed-up teenagers swarms the entrance.
Faint dance music drifts into my ears when we get out of the car and say bye to my dad.
Ron and Brenda stand by the front doors, probably waiting for us.
He’s wearing a tux that looks uncomfortably large on him, his fingers playing with the yellow corsage on Brenda’s wrist. He leans down to whisper something in her ear, and she smacks him on the arm, her face pink with laughter.
When they spot us, they wave us over. “It’s nice to meet you, Meera.” Brenda hugs me, and I return the gesture. We head inside, following the loud beat of remixed pop songs thrumming from one of the event rooms.
The place is packed, the ambiance vibrant and energized, and a disco ball hanging from the ceiling changes colors every few seconds—neon green, red, orange, blue, silver.
But despite the music, the cheers, the flashing lights, and the hundred people dancing around me, I sense Lucy standing with her friends across the room.
She’s dressed in a sparkly pink ball gown that outshines every single speck of glitter on the disco ball.
She cups a hand to her perfect pink mouth, stifling her giggles at one of Julien’s witty remarks, then nods at Natalie’s comment.
Her red hair hangs in a half-up, half-down style, swaying with the movement. Wow. She’s so…
“Earth to Meera.” Valeria jabs me in the side with her elbow, and I exhale, biting my lip. “Sorry,” I say. “I—”
“So all those times you’d just stare at Lucy with that intense look in your eyes,” she says, lowering her voice, “it wasn’t because you hated her guts. It was because you couldn’t stop admiring her. Damn.”
I smile, my lips wide. “She…she didn’t bring a date, either.”
“Come on,” Ron calls out to us, “let’s grab some punch.”
“In a bit,” I mumble out of the corner of my mouth, letting them go. I stay there, still watching the girl I love, taking in the silver glint of her heels, the red roses in her corsage, and—
And the tall guy with the swimmer’s body who hands her a glass of orange punch, tousling his perfect wavy hair and nudging her shoulder when she thanks him.
Fuck. Seth Simons is Lucy’s date to prom?
A popular TikTok song starts playing, and everyone cheers in unison.
My eyes zoom in on Seth’s hand on Lucy’s back as Julien ushers them all to the dance floor.
I can’t help but notice her perfect smile directed at Seth.
His loud, boisterous laughter, audible even from this distance.
And the small jerk of her head when she spots me looking, as though she’s taken aback and didn’t expect me to be here.
After all, I’ve kept my distance since we last spoke.
Sushant said it was best if I gave her time to cool off.
She takes me in now, her mouth twitching, her gaze going from my wavy dark hair falling loosely down my shoulders to the long black dress with a slit up to the thigh that Valeria and Ron promised made me look hot.
Well, Valeria promised. Ron said it distracted from my resting bitch face, which is better than nothing.
Seth tugs on Lucy’s hand, which breaks the staring contest. She turns to him, a polite smile on her face, and doesn’t look back at me at all.
Shoulders hunched, I head to the refreshments table, lean against Valeria’s shoulder, and groan exaggeratedly. “I hate this.”
“Are you okay?” Brenda asks, concern knitting her forehead. “Do you want to sit down?”
“No,” I say, massaging the back of my neck, “I want the girl I love to love me back.”
When I’m met with silence, I look between the three of them. “What?” I ask, quirking a brow. “I can have two gay dads, but I can’t be out and proud myself?”
“You can.” Ron grins. “Shit, we’ve missed you, Meera.”
I punch him on the shoulder. “Missed you too.”
A romantic pop song plays, the lights dimming, and Brenda drags Ron onto the dance floor with a giggle. Valeria watches them, a soft smile on her face. “They’re good together.”
“Are things still awkward between you and Ron?” I ask tentatively.
“Nah. He might have had a crush on me once, but I think he could really love her. Besides”—she laughs—“we’ve been friends for years at this point. Nothing can change that.”
I nod. I wish that were still true in my case. Forget love—even friendship might be off the table for Lucy and me. She loathes me. The back of my neck prickles, and I rub my skin self-consciously. “Is Lucy looking at me?” I whisper. I don’t want to check for myself and be proven wrong.
After a beat, Valeria checks for me. “Yep,” she confirms. “She looks miserable.”
“And whose fault is that?” Plucking a dog hair from my dress, I add, “I don’t know if my Plan will work.
Sushant thinks it will, but he obviously doesn’t know about the original Plan and how much Lucy hates me for it.
” Even as I say it, I think back to what Appa once said: Some emotion will always tie you to your twin flame.
The only emotion you will never, ever feel for them is indifference.
Love and hate are often two passionate sides of the same coin, right?
Val makes a low growl in the base of her throat. “Meera, I told you to cut the Plan nonsense out and just…communicate. How hard is that?”
“It’s hard to communicate when Lucy refuses to be in the same room as me,” I point out. “And after what she saw on my whiteboard, can you blame her?”
“I really can’t,” Val agrees. “Come on, let’s dance. It’ll take your mind off things.”
“All right,” I mumble. I hold myself back from returning Lucy’s gaze, which I suspect is still fixed on me. I’ll find my way to her, I promise myself. I just have to wait a little longer.
Lucy
I’ve never been as fond of parties as you’d expect a head cheerleader to be. Maybe it’s the introvert in me that prefers to find solace in books and music, not alcohol and dancing. But when you’re popular and a pathological people-pleaser, you go with the flow. What other choice do you have?
So I put on a brave face on prom night and dance to five different songs with Seth, Natalie, and Julien.
I smile through the pounding of my heart when I hear the loud laughter of Meera’s friends from the dance floor.
I avoid searching the crowd for Sushant, who has also found a backup date to appease everyone the way I did by bringing Seth.
And I try and fail to keep my eyes off Meera in that stunning dress.
It’s unfair how she manages to look good in anything black—ripped jeans, leather boots, band T-shirts, and evening gowns that curve around her body like every stitch in the fabric was custom-made for her.
More than that, it’s unfair how many times I’ve listened to the “MRG” playlist since my talk with her.
Why can’t I just delete that playlist and be done with her?
Why can’t I stop loving her? She doesn’t deserve my love or forgiveness… right?
But they’re announcing prom king and queen now, which means all eyes will be on me. I just have to put on the It Girl facade for a little longer. After a few more songs, I’ll leave and let go of Madre Maria, both emotionally and mentally. I promise myself I’ll never look back.
Hannah, the president of the student committee, ushers everyone to face the stage, holding up an envelope in her hand. “Class of 2026, are y’all ready to find out who our prom king and queen are tonight?”
People cheer, some hooting and screaming names while they clap. Hannah waits for the noise to die down, then opens the envelope and screams into the microphone, “Please welcome to the stage this year’s prom king and queen: Sushant Khera and Lucy Hughson!”