Chapter Five

Amelia popped up behind her like a nosy jack-in-the-box. “You’re going, right?”

Lily recoiled. “Absolutely not. I’d rather eat chalk.”

“Lily,” Amelia said, hands on hips, “you spent three years mocking people for slow dancing, but now you have a boy who looks at you like you're the main character in a Netflix rom-com. You HAVE to go.”

“I don’t HAVE to do anything,” Lily said, crossing her arms. “Except algebra homework and eventually die.”

Just then, Jack walked by. He paused in front of the same poster.

“‘Under the Stars,’ huh,” he said. “Sounds vaguely mosquito-themed.”

Lily snorted. “Also vaguely terrifying.”

He looked at her. “You’re not going?”

She blinked. “I mean... I wasn’t. I don’t know. Are you?”

He shrugged. “If you’re going, maybe I will.”

Her brain short-circuited.

He’ll go if I go.

But I’m only going if he’s going.

This is a romance logic paradox. Someone call NASA.

Lily nodded too quickly. “Cool. Same. If you’re going. Which you might not. Which I might not. Because, you know... glitter.”

Jack smiled, that crooked little half-smile that made her heart do gymnastics. “Right. Glitter is the real threat here.”

That night, Lily lay on her floor, staring at her ceiling and yelling dramatically into the void.

“WHY did I not just say yes?? Why am I the queen of overthinking??”

Lasagna blinked at her. Again. Unimpressed.

She rolled over and texted Amelia:

“If I hypothetically wanted to go to the dance, what do non-fainting girls wear to these things?”

Amelia responded immediately:

“WE’RE GOING SHOPPING TOMORROW. WAFFLE SOCKS ARE RETIRED. THIS IS WAR.”

****************

The next day…

Lily found herself in a dressing room holding something sparkly and suspicious.

“This looks like it eats confidence,” she said, holding up a pale blue dress.

“Lily. Babe. It’s gorgeous,” Amelia said. “You’ll look like a galaxy in human form.”

“I look like anxiety in dress form.”

Amelia grinned. “Exactly. But cute anxiety.”

The final decision: a navy dress with tiny silver stars, no glitter fallout, and—because Lily insisted—the waffle socks stayed. Hidden, but still there. For luck. For rebellion. For waffles.

Friday came too fast.

By 6:15 p.m., Lily was standing outside the school gym-turned-glamorous-pinterest-board, feeling like she was in someone else’s life.

Jack was already there.

He looked... clean. In a good way. Like he’d tried. His hair was slightly less chaotic than usual, and his shirt had buttons.

Lily blinked. “Whoa.”

He gave her a once-over and smiled, slow and genuine. “You look like a constellation. And I’m pretty sure you broke physics.”

“Me? No. Physics is just scared of me.”

“True. Also, your socks are peeking out.”

Lily froze.

Jack bent slightly to look. “Are those… waffles?”

“Shut up. They’re formal.”

He laughed. “They’re perfect.”