CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Kate
Iwasn’t even this excited for my actual prom.
Back then, I had a rented dress two sizes too big and a date who spent more time flirting with the next table than he did talking to me.
My heels gave me blisters, my corsage wilted halfway through the night, and I remember sitting in Lily’s with my friends at the end of it all, wondering if something was wrong with me for not feeling like it was some magical, movie-worthy experience.
Yesterday, the four of us—Haley, Emily, Bon, and me—went dress shopping.
Real dresses this time, ones we didn’t have to return by noon the next day.
Emily and Bon kept gushing about how they finally get to go to prom with people they love.
Haley, ever the cynic, rolled her eyes and muttered something like, “And I’m stuck with Richard again.
” But the way her mouth twitched into a smile told me she didn’t really mind.
I, on the other hand, kept quiet. Let them laugh and swoon and try on glittery things while I smiled and nodded and tried not to let it show—that I was wondering what exactly was happening to me.
This crush, whatever it is… it’s not just a flutter anymore. It’s scarily evolving into something deeper. Is it love? How would I know? I’ve never actually been in love, have I? Never been the girl who was chosen, pursued, adored. Never been kissed just because someone couldn’t help it. Is this it?
I sigh. Right now, I’m focused on finishing off my hair, mostly to keep myself from spiraling. Emily’s behind me, fussing with the final pins. She somehow managed to tame my waves into a soft, romantic bun—neat but with a few wisps left loose on purpose.
“There,” she says with a proud smile, meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“You look beautiful, Kate.” She’s standing behind me in a red dress that dips low in the back.
She looks beautiful, as usual. Effortlessly radiant.
The kind of woman people turn their heads for when she enters a room—twice, just to make sure they saw her right.
I’ve always admired that about her. The way she’s picture-perfect without even trying.
I smile back, almost shyly, and slowly stand from the stool.
My dress flows as I do, soft and weightless like I might float away.
It’s a muted lavender, like my tattoo. The fabric is tulle and airy, layered like petals, cinched at the waist before it falls freely to my ankles.
The hem is scattered with faded floral appliqués, like they’ve been pressed gently into the dress, pale pink and ivory blooming against the lavender.
It makes me feel delicate. Soft. Beautiful, even.
“I feel like I’m playing dress-up,” I admit.
“What do you mean?” Emily asks. It’s only the two of us now. Haley’s helping with the set ups while Bon is waiting for Ryan to come home.
I let out a breath. “I mean… being beautiful is kind of your thing.”
She opens her mouth, but I rush to explain, “Not in a bitter way! You’re literally the most stunning person I know.
Like, it’s actually unfair sometimes. And even last year, when you were going through that whole crisis about your job and your ex and whatever, I still thought you had it together.
I still looked at you and thought, God, she’s so cool.
I just… I wish I had even a sliver of that confidence. ”
Emily blinks at me, then walks over and stands beside me. “Katherine Cruz,” she says, using my full name like I’m in trouble. “Did you forget? I faked it. The confidence. The poise. Even the relationship.”
I glance at her, surprised.
She shrugs. “No one really knows what’s going on in anyone else’s head. I was just trying to convince everyone I was okay until I actually started to believe it. Half the time, confidence is just showing up and pretending like you belong. Eventually, it sticks.”
She nudges me. “And I know this sudden self-doubt isn’t just about your dress or confidence. This is about Michael.”
I make a face. “It’s not.”
Emily raises an eyebrow, all too pleased with herself. “You’re wearing the prettiest dress of your life, you’ve been quiet and dreamy all morning, and you’ve checked your phone five times even though no one’s messaged. Just admit it.”
“I am not dreamy,” I mutter.
She grins. “Sure, Cinderella. Keep telling yourself that. But let me know when you’re ready to admit you’re totally in love with the hot basketball player who also won’t admit that he’s totally in love with you too.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart thumps louder than it should.
Maybe tonight, I get to be someone who turns heads. Someone who gets a second look.
I do feel like Cinderella. If Cinderella had anxiety and a very real fear of love.
Someone knocks on my door, and I immediately get nervous. Because my mother wouldn’t knock. Haley and Bon wouldn’t knock.
Emily gives me a look that’s practically dripping with mischief. “I’ll get it,” she says, already standing.
Before I can say anything, she opens the door—and there he is. Michael.
He’s in a deep navy suit that somehow makes him look both painfully handsome and even taller. His hair is pushed back, and he’s holding something in his hand. A lavender corsage. He really did get me one.
His eyes land on me instantly and stay there. He looks at me from head to toe, and I wiggle my toes because I realize I don’t have shoes yet.
“Hey,” he says with a chuckle, soft and a little stunned.
“I should go,” Emily says, shooting me one last glance.
“Oh—sorry,” Michael says, only now seeming to register her presence. “I didn’t see you there.”
And I blink.
Didn’t see her?
How could he not see her? She’s Emily. People stop in grocery aisles to admire her.
Emily smiles knowingly. “Well, bye, guys,” she says under her breath, slipping past him. Before she closes the door behind her, she winks at me, and I smile.
I’m frozen. My hands are slightly sweaty. My heart is—well, jumping out of my chest and crawling underneath Michael’s.
Michael walks toward me. “You look…” He trails off, gaze moving from my hair to the hem of my dress. “Beautiful. But you look like you. Sorry. That was weird. Just, you look both different and still very much the same. And that’s beautiful… uh… yeah.”
He slips off the corsage from the box and asks for my hand.
Instinctively, I give it to him. He slips the ribbon around my wrist, his fingers brushing my skin as he secures the bow.
The contact is brief, but it zings up my arm like someone flipped a switch.
Like a firefly blinking to life just under my skin.
He looks up, and I swear his breath hitches too.
Then he clears his throat. “Ready?”
“Yeah,” I manage. “Just let me grab my shoes.”
I slip on my silver heels and grab my little clutch. When I glance at him again, he’s already waiting by the door, holding it open for me like some kind of prom prince.
Outside, the air is cool. The village is quiet except for the low thump of music coming from the new community hall just down the road—the same place Bon’s wedding was held, now strung with fairy lights and paper lanterns.
We walk the short distance in companionable silence. The garden comes into view first—lit like a scene from a movie, with string lights weaving between trees and tables set around a small outdoor dance floor. It’s soft and magical and slightly surreal.
People are already arriving, dressed to the nines in suits and sparkly gowns. There’s laughter, music, the clink of glasses.
It’s prom. But a million times louder.
A million times scarier.
A million times better.