Ryan took a deep breath and knocked on Poppy’s door. The rented tuxedo felt strange and itchy. He couldn’t help but wonder how many boys had worn it before—boys going to their first prom, or even men on their wedding day. He’d never been the school dance type, but Poppy had begged him to take her. He never could tell her no.

Besides, they were just juniors. It wasn’t their real senior prom anyway. He’d done his research and found out his cummerbund was supposed to match her dress. Ryan never thought he’d be wearing pink silk, but here he was. In his hands, he clutched a plastic box holding a pink poppy corsage. The florist had told him a bright pink would contrast nicely with her light pink dress.

He hoped the flower wouldn’t wilt until after the photos at least. “Ryan!” Poppy’s mom said. “What are you…”

“Hi, Mrs. Baker. Is Poppy ready?”

“Poppy? Well, yes, but…”

Her mom trailed off and opened the door wider. Inside, Poppy had a digital camera held overhead as she snapped a selfie with a guy he’d never seen before. Even in that small moment, he could tell the guy was from the prep school across town. It was in how he held himself; the high quality of the tuxedo was evident even from the doorway. Since when did Poppy hang out with guys like that? Or guys at all?

His own rented tuxedo suddenly felt unbearably cheap. It didn’t matter that for him, it had cost nearly a month’s salary. Working part-time wasn’t that big of a deal in their school. There were a lot of kids who worked. Some because they had to, like him, and some because they wanted the extra cash to upgrade the sound system in their secondhand cars.

Poppy didn’t see him, but he caught sight of Mr. Baker. The man beamed as he took the camera from Poppy and started directing them like he was making the music video of the year. “Put your hands on her waist. That’s it,” he said. The guy with the jet black, perfectly combed hair gripped Poppy’s waist dutifully.

She looked miserable, but she complied. “Smile!” her father said loudly, and she plastered a fake grin on her face. Poppy looked suddenly to the door, as if Ryan had called her. Since they’d met, they'd shared an uncanny ability to communicate without words.

He opened his mouth, but she shook her head sternly and bit her lip. In her eyes was a sorrowful apology. “Poppy! Pay attention,” her father snapped, and her gaze shifted back to the camera.

“I’m sorry, Ryan,” her mom said.

“Colleen, shut the goddamned door!” her father yelled. Mrs. Baker sadly shut the door and murmured apologies the entire time.

Shocked, Ryan descended the stairs and pulled the bow tie off his neck. Eli had helped him tie it after consulting a how-to video, and it had taken fifteen minutes. He undid the work in just a few seconds. What the hell do I do now?

He began to wander and saw Poppy’s neighborhood with fresh eyes. For all the times they’d ran and biked up and down these streets, he’d never really noticed them. The cracked sidewalks, the indoor furniture shoved onto so many front porches, and the piles of motorcycles on some of the lawns were all reminders of where they came from.

Funny how you can spend most of your childhood and youth not really knowing that you’re poor—until some rich kid from across town shows you without saying anything.

He heaved himself onto their special bench at Mitchell Park. Ryan hadn’t even realized that’s where he was going, but it made sense. The sunset was a romantic one, and he took in the blaze of colors on his own. How many classmates are watching this same scene, with their date pressed into their arms? Eventually, the purples and pinks gave way to blackness. Stars peeked through the veil of darkness. He hadn’t a clue what time it was.

He felt her presence before he saw her. Quietly, Poppy sat down beside him. “I didn’t want to go with Lawrence,” she said.

Lawrence? Was that really his name? Ryan bubbled over with so much anger, he couldn’t bring himself to speak.

“Ryan, I’m really sorry,” she said. “He’s—he’s my dad’s boss’ son. He’s seen pictures of me at work. Weird, right? That my dad would have a picture of any of us there? And he asked to take me.”

Ryan sniffed and looked at his hands, cupped in his lap. You couldn’t say no?

“I didn’t have a choice, I couldn’t say no,” she said. He glanced up, but not at her. Could she really read his mind? “Ryan, please.”

He sighed. When she pleaded like that, she could break through him with ease. “How was prom?” he asked.

“Terrible. I mean, of course it was terrible. Cheesy streamers and balloons for decorations. The food sucked, you would have hated that.”

He laughed. “And what about your fancy-pants date?”

“Oh, wow,” she said. “Bad. Really bad. Apparently that whole eighties ‘prom is for sex’ stereotype is still lodged deeply in that jerk’s mind. He kept asking the whole time if I waned to ‘go under the bleachers’.”

“So, did you?” Ryan asked with a smile. Even though he knew it was ridiculous, he wanted Poppy’s reassurance.

“No! Don’t be weird,” she said. “I told him he could go by himself. Then he said he had a hotel room downtown at the Ritz with strawberries and champagne waiting.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, and all I could think of was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. I told him I didn’t have the boots or blonde wig for that.”

He laughed again. “I think you could totally pull off thigh-high boots and a hooker wig.”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “That’s why I’m back so early,” she said. “I know I was talking about this stupid dance forever, but…”

“But what? Are you okay? Did something else happen?”

She smiled grimly. “I took care of it myself. Besides, what I was saying was… it wasn’t the dance. It was going with you. With my best friend. I’m sorry, Ry. I messed up.”

He lifted his arm and she slid against his chest with ease. As she rested her head on his shoulder, he wrapped his hand around her bare upper arm. “I’m sorry your night was so bad,” he said. “Both our nights could use a do-over.”

“It’s not so bad now,” she said, and looked up at him with a glint in her eyes.

“Cheesy,” he said.

“It’s prom. It’s supposed to be cheesy.”

“What time is it?” he asked her.

“You never wear a watch. Not even eleven,” she said as she looked at her slim golden watch. It was her mother’s, reserved for fancy occasions.

“It’s technically still prom night then. Here,” he said, and handed her the pink poppy. Miraculously, it still looked fresh.

“Oh, Ryan,” she said, a little sadly. “I really am sorry.”

He helped her put it on her wrist. “It’s okay,” he said. A dark car in the parking lot across the street turned alive with music. They both looked at it. There must have been kids making out and hooking up in the back seat the whole time he was here. He laughed. “Kids,” he said.

The car’s radio shifted into Shaggy’s “Angel.”

“Well,” Ryan said as he stood up. “Should we dance? Sorry, there aren’t any bleachers around here to invite you to.”

She rolled her eyes as he helped her up. “This is like, straight cheesy,” she said. “You didn’t plan this, did you?”

“Oh yeah,” Ryan said as he took her in his arms. “It was all part of my master plan to spend the night out in the park alone with a pink flower while I synchronized with the Honda in the parking lot for your arrival.”

Poppy laughed. “I’m sure,” she said. “But seriously, this is so much better than the real prom. And I’m sorry. Truly.”

“It’s not your fault,” Ryan said. He could feel the heat from her back through the slippery satin. She radiated it.

“That doesn’t make it okay,” she said. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“A lot of things aren’t okay. But this? This is pretty good. And at least this tux and horrible shoes get to show off a little bit.”

“Yeah, those are pretty ugly shoes,” she said.

“Hey! The guy at the shop said these were dope. Those were his exact words.”

She lifted her head and looked at him. “Ryan, if a salesman tells you something is dope, you probably shouldn’t get it.”

He shrugged. “Lesson learned. But how many other guys are dancing under the moonlight with a girl who ditched her date for them tonight?”

She slapped him playfully on the chest. “Probably only you.”

“See?” he asked as he twirled her in a circle. “The shoes work.”