“Pictures,” Lenora says, stepping forward. “We’ll do a few with and without the masks.”

I don’t have time to react to his mask—to him—other than a smile. Lenora ushers us over to the fireplace, and the four of us strike a pose. And then another. She gets a few of just Riley and Eli, who matches her in his all-black attire.

“Masks on,” Robert suggests.

Caleb gestures for me to turn around, and he ties the mask’s ribbons behind my head. He secures his own, and then his finger trails up my spine. It’s quick, probably unnoticed by anyone else.

I shoot him a look. It’s weird only seeing his eyes, the quirk of his lips.

We pose for pictures, and I’m too aware of him at my back.

“We should go,” Caleb finally says.

Lenora exhales, lowering her camera. “I’m sorry, I think I got carried away.”

Robert wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“It’s just, our daughter would’ve loved this.” Tears fill Lenora’s eyes.

My heart skips. I feel the urge to go over and hug her, but I don’t dare move.

She waves in front of her face.

“I’m so sorry.” She rushes away.

Robert rubs his hands together. “Sorry about that. She’s happy for you, Margo. It’s just a little overwhelming.”

I nod.

Caleb frowns. “We’re going to head to the dance.”

Robert smiles. “Have a great time. Text me when you get to the after-party. And then we’ll see you home in the morning.”

“Will do!”

On our way out, Riley loops her arm in mine. “Do you think he’s going to check the log? For who signed in?”

I pause. “Oh god.”

“Already taken care of,” Caleb says. “I’ve got someone who will add our names to the list.”

We pile into Eli’s truck. Riley starts to get in the backseat with me, but Caleb stops her. He slides in next to me, his hand on my thigh. We have a whole bench, but we’re pressed close together. Our legs touch, hip to knee, and I lean into him.

“I have something for you,” he says.

I raise my head. Our masks are off, on our laps. My phone and ID are in a clutch that I totally plan on leaving in the car, because it doesn’t match anything. Being maskless means he sees my eyes widen.

“Nothing bad,” he promises.

I roll my eyes. “I hope not.”

“Just close your eyes.”

I watch him for a moment, but he doesn’t move. Slowly, I close my eyes. He shifts, then takes my hand and turns it so my palm is up. He puts something hard and flat on it, supporting my hand with his underneath it.

“Open.”

I do, looking down at the kind of box you’d put a necklace in. At least it isn’t a ring.