We went to prom, although I still don't really know why.
We didn't have anyone to go with, date wise. He was no longer dating Jenny Green and I had never been dating anybody, so we had a kind of mutual, unspoken agreement that prom was an event neither of us would be attending.
When my doorbell rang on prom night I expected it to be him already in pajamas and ready for a Harry Potter movie marathon.
It was him.
But he was wearing a suit.
"Go and get yours on." He grinned sheepishly. "We're going to prom."
I sighed.
I trudged back upstairs and pulled a suit that I owned in case of funerals, makes me sound pretty pessimistic, from out of my closet.
It didn't take long to change and I soon found myself waving goodbye to his mother from outside a ridiculously expensive, rented hotel that was this years' prom venue.
"This is supposed to be the best night of our lives." He snorted with derision.
"It was your choice to come," I reminded him, and he grunted ruefully in reply.
We spent the evening, predictably, by the food tables on uncomfortable, wooden chairs. We drank far too much fruit punch and emptied so much of the food provided that the hotel staff repeatedly shot us sideways glances of disgust.
We called Sawyer, because she had boycotted the event; "I can't hear a word you're saying over that awful music, what year do they think we're in?" she yelled over the sound of the 'club classics' the speakers were churning out.
We judged the way our peers were dressed; "Jenny's dress is fucking hideous!" He laughed. I agreed happily.
He watched with rapture, making odd comments every now and again, mainly about the fashion sense, or lack of, of the people around us.
His suit was black, such a dark, unfathomable shade that he almost glittered. His dark hair was as it normally was, naturally straight and swept across his forehead. His eyes were dark too, and shone with a warmth that made me feel warm too. His mouth was curved into a small smile.
I noticed then, more than I ever had, that he really was quite beautiful.
When the night was over and we were back on our street, he said; "we really should have danced. That's what you're supposed to do, isn't it?"
"I can't dance," I scoffed, "and neither can you."
"Oh, really?" He shot back, an eyebrow raised.
I laughed and went to turn away but he grabbed my right hand in his left and his right was suddenly holding onto my waist.
"What-"
"I'm showing you I can dance," he said determinedly, stepping back and forth and pulling me along with him.
"I think you drank more than punch tonight," I said dryly, he just laughed.
He paused for a second to move my other hand to rest on his shoulder.
"You know this is just stepping," I teased.
"It's dancing and you know it."
He gazed at me, his eyes on fire. His eyes darted all over my face and I could feel my face heating up.
Before I knew it, we had waltzed to the front of my house. He let go of me; I didn't know how I felt about that; and bent over into a low bow.
"I take it back, you dance like a princess," I said, and on impulse, I took his hand again and kissed the back of it.
"Piss off, Alec," he retorted, but even in the dark I could see a red flush spread across his face and that made my stomach flip.
He left then, and I felt happier than I can ever remember being.
Prom night really was the best night of my life.
***
I straightened from my slumped position with a start. Something wet had splashed onto my hand and I realized that I was crying.
She didn't ask me anything, and I was thankful.
