The vibe in the gym has calmed down when I venture back inside. A sappy pop ballad fills the room. Our former classmates who showed up as a couple—and some who’ve managed to form new couples just in the last hour—sway with the music, arms around each other.

Drew is waiting by the door. His hair is still slightly mussed from our extracurricular encounter, and he holds his hand out to me with a twinkle in his eye. “Another dance?”

“Sure.” My heart would flutter all over again at the invitation if it wasn’t aching right now.

I walk into the crowd with him and loop my arms around his neck as his come around my waist. It’s easier to rest my head on his shoulder than to look him in the eyes. We drift in a slow circle. I swallow hard, trying to find the words.

If he didn’t tell me before, what chance is there he does see any future with me? I knew this was probably just a fun fling to him. It’s not like there’ve been any shortage of those in his history, and we were both upfront from the start. I just wasn’t expecting to fall for him.

And not just a little, but head-first, plummeting, straight for the ground kind of falling. Hell, I’ve been going down so fast, you’d think there was a massive cock-shaped cake waiting for me at the bottom.

But despite the prom dress and spotlights, we aren’t teenagers, awkwardly fumbling our way through our first romance. I’m almost thirty years old. I can find the guts to simply ask him.

Even if I’m dreading hearing the answer.

I pull back enough that I can see his expression, but still close enough that I can speak over the music without having to yell.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” I ask.

Drew smiles. “Besides how gorgeous you look?”

I take a deep breath. “No, I meant the big Category 5 reunion.”

I’m trying to sound chill and casual, like I’m just curious, not hanging off his answer. Maybe I don’t fake it well enough. Drew’s arms tense. His mouth tightens for a second before he says, just as casual, “The details haven’t been worked out yet. Nothing’s official. But it could happen.”

Could. I gulp.

“And you’d be a part of it.”

He looks away. “I don’t think they’d do it without me. Actually, Charlie made that part pretty clear.”

“So . . . you’d be leaving, then,” I say quietly. “For a long time, I’m guessing. International tour and all.”

Drew takes a breath. “If we go ahead with it, yes. Probably LA to record the new album, then on the road. Touring, promotion . . . The label are proposing a whole big thing. It’s actually a really great deal,” he adds, looking more excited now. “Not like the bullshit contracts we signed first time around. We’d have creative control, be able to pick the songwriters, make some really great music.”

He wants this. I can see it, even if he hasn’t realized it yet.

My throat closes up. I fight to keep my next breath steady.

“You weren’t going to mention it?” I ask, trying not to sound accusing. Despite the feelings of rejection slamming through me, the last thing I want is to act like an overemotional clinger.

Drew shrugs again. We’re not even dancing anymore, just kind of standing there. “Nothing’s set in stone yet. But it could be a great opportunity, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” I swallow back the tears suddenly stinging in my throat. “Great.”

My head is spinning. We’ve gone from fucking in a classroom to making awkward conversation like we barely know each other. And maybe we don’t. After all, this has just been a fling, right? Some hot fun to distract me from the mess that was my life. But I have other plans too, and I’m not the kind of woman to just tearfully beg a guy to stay.

“Well, I guess that all works out then,” I say, trying to sound cool. “Since it looks like I’ll be leaving town too. I got a call this afternoon about a job back in New York.”

Drew stops the slow circle of our dance. “What?”

I want to pull away from him, but we probably look odd enough already. This isn’t exactly the ideal setting for a fight. “One of my old coworkers is putting me in touch with a major pastry chef in Manhattan,” I say, trying to be as casual as he was. “It’s a great opportunity.”

“When would this be happening?”

It’s my turn to shrug. “I don’t know. I haven’t even talked to her yet. But it sounded like she’d want me to start soon.”

Drew’s jaw works. “You didn’t tell me about it.”

Is that actual hurt in his voice? Something inside me stiffens. He does not get to act as if he’s the wounded party here. “Because I literally just found out. You didn’t tell me about your reunion, and clearly that’s been in the works a lot longer. Anyway,” I say, still trying desperately to play it cool. “It’s not like we need permission from each other, right? It’s no big deal.”

“That’s really the way you see this?” Drew’s arms have gone slack around me. He stares at me, but I don’t know what he’s trying to see. “No big deal?”

It feels like a very big one, but they say actions speak louder than words—and Drew’s actions have made it perfectly clear how he feels.

I brace myself against the actual heartache that’s piercing through my chest. “It’s OK, I get it. We’ve had some fun while it lasted, but this was always going to be a temporary thing, right? I mean . . . You weren’t going to ask me to move here permanently. Right?”

It’s stupid, but there’s a part of me still hoping he’ll say yes. That whatever it is between us, it’s real, and he wants more. That I matter.

But instead, Drew’s jaw tightens. “I guess you’re right.”

Pain ricochets through me. I don’t know what he or I might have said next, and maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t have to find out. The song fades out, and the lights over the stage beam on. Everyone stops dancing to turn to look.

Becky is standing under the lights in her slinky gown. She’s holding a glittery envelope, and her lips are curled in anticipation. “It wouldn’t be a real ‘prom’ without a Prom King and Queen, right, folks? Candice has kindly let me make the big announcement. The winning couple should make their way on stage to receive their crowns.”

She motions behind her. Two of her minions scurry downstage, clutching shiny circlets of faux gold. Drew stands rigidly beside me, his gaze fixed on the stage. Just to avoid looking at me? I grit my teeth and make myself follow suit.

Becky tugs out the folded paper slowly, for full dramatics. She shoots a coy look at all of us in her audience. Then she opens the paper.

Her body freezes. She blinks, her lips parting slightly in disbelief.

“Let’s hear it!” someone shouts from the sidelines. Someone else gives a whoop, and a bunch of the people around us laugh, but it feels like everyone’s miles away. I’m still aching from the scene with Drew, and all my stupid hopes and expectations.

I should have known this wasn’t real to him. I didn’t even know what we had—before it was too late. But just like a decade ago, he’s on another level—and he’s leaving me behind.

Becky gathers herself. She smiles that plastic smile and says in a voice that doesn’t quite hide her disdain, “Our Prom King and Queen are Drew Delaney and Maggie Hayes.”

Now I’m gaping. Drew turns to me with a tight grin and holds out his hand.

“The whole nine yards,” he says quietly. “Now it’s really your night.”

Oh. He—he set this up somehow? That’s why he looked so tense. He knew it was coming.

Talk about the worst timing ever.

He takes my hand and leads me to the stage. My mind is spinning and my feet have turned into lead. This should be a happy, giddy moment, but I feel like sobbing. Or puking. Or maybe a little of both, just to cover all my bases.

Did he plan this as a last hurrah? A way to go out on a high note before heading off into the sunset on tour? As we climb the steps, I paste on a smile as fake as Becky’s. She all but bares her teeth at me. Drew and I wave at the audience. Everyone cheers. My eyes burn with the tears I refuse to cry.

“Time for a victory dance.” Becky scowls at me. I guess she was planning on being the one in the spotlight, but I would gladly trade places in a heartbeat right now.

The music rises again. At least it’s an up-tempo one. I shuffle and bob, and Drew falls into rhythm with me, no show-off moves now. The big event over, the crowd below the stage resumes their own dancing. Becky and her minions drift away.

If I wanted to try to continue that conversation with Drew now, I could. But I’m afraid the second I open my mouth, I won’t be able to hold back those tears anymore. So I keep that smile plastered on and count the beats until the song is finally over.

I hop down from the stage and head straight for the door. I’m so done. McKenna will probably wonder where I’ve disappeared to, if Drew doesn’t tell her and she can’t put two and two together. I’ll call her later. Right now I just need to be away from here. A little time to gather myself, to patch up my heart. To remind myself that this was all temporary, and had to end sometime.

But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.

The second I’m out of the room, I yank the crown off my head. I hurry out the front entrance, digging in my phone for my purse. I’ve got the taxi company on the phone before the cool night air hits me outside.

My shoes have just hit the parking lot pavement when Drew’s voice carries after me. “Maggie!”

I stop and turn. He’s hurrying out the doors after me.

He comes to a halt a few feet away from me. He hasn’t taken off his crown. Somehow that seems fitting. It gleams on his head in the dull parking lot lights.

“Where are you going?” he asks, looking uncertain. “The party’s not over yet.”

I let out a hollow laugh at the irony. “No, I think it is. Don’t worry about the limo. I called a cab.”

“I’m not worried about the limo.” Drew looks at me, but I can’t read his expression. Is he conflicted? Guilty? Or just doesn’t want to admit the truth? “Don’t you think we should at least talk?”

I clutch my purse strap tight at my side. “About what? We’ve both got our plans. What else is there to discuss?”

“What else—” He shakes his head. “You never gave us a chance, did you? You had one foot out the door the whole time. How were you thinking about it—a temporary diversion while you got back on your feet? Oh, Drew, he’ll make a perfectly good Mr. Right-Now.”

The accusation jabs me right in the heart. He’s right—and wrong at the same time. He’s making me sound like I was the only one having a good time here, but we were both having the time of our lives.

“What difference does it make?” I ask, hollow. “You were the one chasing me, and in case you don’t remember, you weren’t exactly sitting down to talk about feelings and commitment. You were too busy getting into my pants. Do you even know what a real relationship is?” I ask. “It takes a lot more than putting on a big song and dance. But that’s all you care about, obviously.”

His face darkens. “How can you say that?”

“I’m just telling you what I see.” I gesture wildly with my hand. “You talked a good game about getting to put down roots here, settle in somewhere away from all the celebrity chaos. And then the first chance you have to get out there in front of all those adoring fans again, you jump on it.”

“That’s not how it happened,” he says. “It wasn’t—” He makes a frustrated noise. “I wouldn’t leave forever. And it wouldn’t be to get my rocks off on the applause. It’s more complicated than that.”

“Really?” I hug myself, feeling ridiculous in this dress. “What if I told you I wanted this to be something real, that I wanted a future with you—would you still go?”

Drew opens his mouth and closes it again without a word. He draws in a breath, but that hesitation has told me all I need to know.

The cab pulls into the parking lot. I swivel on my heel. “It’s fine. You don’t have to answer that. Just do what it is you want to do.”

I hop into the cab and yank the door shut behind me. The ride home is a blur. The cabbie seems to pick up on my need for silence. Other than his acknowledgement of the address, he doesn’t say anything until we’re pulling up by my parents’ house. “Here we are.”

“Thanks.” I hand over a few bills, a larger tip than he’s probably expecting, and wobble up the front walk. The living-room light is on, but the driveway is empty—Mom and Dad were going out for dinner. Lulu is who knows where. No one was expecting me back this early. No, they weren’t expecting me back at all.

I sink onto the porch bench. I wasn’t expecting to be back here. The night I’d pictured plays out in my head: Drew and me waving our goodbyes and ducking into the limo. A little hanky-panky behind the privacy screen on the way to his place. Then a long, tender encounter on his bed, or wherever else we ended up . . . Some part of me had already started to think of it as making love. I drop my face into my hands.

Nothing about this night has gone the way I planned.

Maybe it’s a good thing I found out about the reunion the way I did. I’m sure he’d have let me down as gently as he could. He probably had some big plan for easing things off in a way that seemed as sweet as possible. Which I just ruined. But that would have been even more painful, wouldn’t it? Better just to rip the band-aid off.

I can tell myself that, but I can’t hold back the tears. Salty drops streak down my cheeks and plop onto the poufy fabric of my skirt. Inside my heart is breaking . . . and then I realize the cruelest irony of all.

I’m right back where I started, over ten years ago. Bawling on my front porch, all dressed up with nowhere to go.

But this time, it’s worse. Back then, I was crying for what I didn’t have: friendship, love, belonging.

Now, I know exactly what they feel like. I had it with Drew—and now I’ve lost it for good.