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“That woman’s DNA sparkles.”Joy stuffed the envelope in with the usual plethora of music catalogs and college recruitment letters that awaited her in her mailbox.

Callum sorted his mail, and more glitter puffed up, making him sneeze.“So I see.”

“Welcome to Peterson, Callum.”Joy gave an exaggerated courtly bow.

“What is this monstrosity, anyway?”Callum held the missive by one corner, eyeing it with suspicion.

“It is yourinvitation”—Blair framed the word with air quotes—“to chaperone the homecoming dance.”

Callum tilted his head.“And I suspect this is aninvitationI am not allowed to refuse?”

Joy snorted.“Not unless you want Camilla Lewis and her fake eyelashes to be on your case from now until prom.”

Callum shuddered.“No, thank you.”He turned his attention to the envelope.“Tell me, ladies, what on earth does this involve?”

Blair rolled her eyes.“It involves getting paid an infinitesimal amount to dress to the nines and stand around in a hot, overcrowded gymnasium, listening to endless Taylor Swift songs turned up way too loud while also making sure our lovely students don’t grope each other unnecessarily or sneak off to do inappropriate things in inappropriate places.”

“With an endorsement like that, how could I possibly say no?”He tucked the envelope in the pocket of his jacket, unleashing another shower of glitter over his shoes, which he regarded with a disgusted expression.“Guess I’d better clear my bustling social calendar.”He slipped out of the room.

Blair sighed at the carpet that was significantly sparklier than it had been five minutes ago.“I feel sorry for Henry and the rest of the custodial staff, having to clean all this.”

Joy regarded her with an odd smile.

“What?”Blair asked.“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“This could befun.”

“What, chaperoning homecoming?”Blair held the back of her hand to Joy’s forehead.“Are you feeling okay?”

“Never better.”Joy’s grin morphed from slightly odd to full-on Cheshire Cat–like.“Because you’ll be at homecoming.And so will he.”

“Who?”

“Callum.”Her eyebrows wiggled.“Informal wear.”

An unwelcome but not unpleasant shiver made its way down Blair’s spine.She had yet to see Callum in anything except everyday school clothes, since their first concert wasn’t until the week after homecoming.But she had seen his headshot.And if real-life Callum looked anything like that picture ...

“Well, clearly you don’t hate the idea.”Joy sounded satisfied with herself.

“I said nothing,” Blair protested.

“And you said it very loudly.”Joy patted Blair’s cheek.“Your cheeks turn the most adorable shade of pink when you’re crushing on someone.”

“What?”Blair lowered her voice.“I am notcrushing”—more air quotes—“on him.Or anyone.Other than Hugh Jackman, of course.”

Joy peered closer.“Oh.Wait.No.You’re not just crushing on Callum.You actuallylikehim.”

Blair avoided her friend’s gaze.“I do not.We work together.That’s the extent of it.Besides, he’s made it abundantly clear that he’s only here this year, and then I have to start over again in August with someone else.Just like always.So there’s no point in investing in him.”

“Uh-huh.You should wear that bronze dress.”

“The one I wore for Luke and Cassi’s wedding last year?”Two former students who’d hated each other in high school but found their way into each other’s arms in college.

“The one with the lace-up back and the slit?Yes.That one.”

“I’m there to chaperone, not compete with high schoolers for who can show the most skin.”

“Oh, come on.That dress is tasteful and you know it.”Joy grinned.“Practically a nun’s habit compared to what some of those girls wear.”