"Do you think highlighter would be too much?" I asked, turning away from Carrie's vanity mirror to look at her in her peacock blue dress. Since she was also going to Huntington High's homecoming dance with Jackson, we decided to get dressed together.

Carrie looked up from her work, untangling the necklace she wanted from the clump of a dozen other chains. "I don't think so. But I'd go sparingly. You have a tendency to overdo it."

"Says the girl who puts it on her cleavage." I looked down at her low-cut neckline.

She waved a hand across her boobs. "It's to accentuate my natural curves."

I raised an incredulous brow. "It's to make people stare at your boobs, and you know it."

Carrie shrugged and went back to her work on the necklaces.

I grimaced at my face in the mirror. More specifically, the shiny red gargantuan blemishes. "Why does this always happen right before something huge?" I asked, rubbing in the foundation. Three pimples had appeared on my face overnight—on my chin, my cheek, and the center of my goddamn forehead. I moved on to the highlighter, taking her advice to go easy. This was a high school dance with a bunch of straight people, after all.

Carrie giggled. "You remember in seventh grade when you tried to use Makenzie's foundation, and you had that one spot on your face that was paler than the rest."

"And I kept putting more on the rest of my face to even it out, and my face ended up being about three shades lighter than my neck." I laughed, thinking back to my naivete, when I assumed coverup would just blend in, eventually. "I looked like a fucking mime."

"It wasn't that bad." Carrie was still chuckling when she came over and knelt down beside me. She pointed to the ends of her necklace. "Fasten me."

I pushed aside the few curling tendrils that escaped her updo and did as she asked.

She turned to face me, the blue-green jewel nestled in the hollow of her throat. She tilted her head as she examined me. "You've gotten much better at makeup. If I didn't know, I'd never guess you had any on."

I picked up the eyeliner pen, leaning toward the lighted magnifying mirror for a better view. My mouth formed a wide O as I drew the line around each eye.

After applying a coat of shimmery gloss over her lipstick, Carrie held the tube toward me. "Want some?"

I shook my head and spritzed my face with some of Carrie's setting spray. "I'm good. I don't want to scare the straights too much."

Carrie smirked and tossed the gloss into her purse. "Some of them could use a little shaking up."

When my phone lit up, I picked it up to read the message from Clay just as the doorbell rang. "Our gentlemen callers have arrived."

I stood up and took my suit jacket off the back of the chair, slipping it on. I'd opted for a solid scarlet blazer this time, with a matching bowtie.

Carrie grabbed her bag and hooked her arm through mine as we headed out to the living room where Clay and Jackson were speaking to Dr. Herrera and my mother.

"You two look great," Mom said, clasping her hands together in front of her mouth. "Carrie, I love that dress."

Carrie twisted her hips to make the knee-length skirt swish, showing off the shimmer in the fabric.

Clay walked over and slipped an arm around me, a wide grin on his lips as he leaned in to offer a chaste kiss as a greeting. He turned his head to the side to whisper into my ear. "Damn, baby. You look so fucking hot."

"You, too." I looked Clay over. He was wearing his gray check suit. He'd switched out the white shirt for a black one and added a skinny black tie. It really made his silver hair stand out. His brown roots were showing, but I kind of loved it like this, which is what I told him when he asked if he should get it touched up.

I noticed Clay was also wearing a rose on his lapel that matched my jacket perfectly. When I pointed it out, Clay's lips twisted into a sly grin. "Your mom sent me a picture of your outfit. I didn't want this to clash." He produced another boutonnière that matched his own and pinned it to my lapel.

"You are adorable."

Clay gave me another quick kiss. "I really am."

After a round of photos, we headed outside. A gigantic black Escalade limo idled at the curb.

"You really went all out," I said.

"Brandon's treat," Clay said.

"Brandon got us a limo?"

"He's waiting inside. We had a little pregame at his place. He had a lot and didn't want any parents to smell the booze on him."

Clay opened the door and let me get in first. Brandon was at the far end, making out with a girl I didn't know, shamelessly groping her until Clay got in and said, "Could you cool it with all that hetero shit? I don't appreciate you subjecting my impressionable boyfriend to that lifestyle choice."

Brandon broke away and started laughing. He wiped his hand across his mouth. "I swear to fuck, dude, you get gayer by the day."

Clay beamed with pride. "Thank you."

Clay and I scooted around to the side bench to let Carrie and Jackson in. Clay slipped his hand into mine as Brandon pressed a button on the ceiling and said, "Yo, dude, let's get this party on the road."

Clay squinted his eyes, staring at our hands. He looked up at me. "When did you do that?" He gestured to my scarlet nails.

"Yesterday after school. Me and Carrie got mani-pedis for tonight."

"I like it. I'm glad you're doing more things that you wanted."

"It's a start. You make me want to be brave."

Clay leaned over to kiss my cheek. "I know the feeling."

Brandon let out wolf-whistle. "Jesus, Clay! That's some serious action you got goin' on. It's gettin' hot in here now." Brandon waved his hand at his face. "Anyone else super horny? Just me?"

Clay leaned his forehead against the side of my head, laughing into my ear. He turned to his friend and flipped him off, still grinning widely. "Fuck you, Bran."

"Sorry, dude. I don't swing that way." Brandon leaned forward to get closer to us. "Although, you gotta tell me, is it true what they say?"

"About what?" Clay seemed prematurely annoyed.

I understood why when Brandon said, "I heard dudes give head like ten times better."

Clay just scoffed and rolled his eyes. I wondered if he was recalling his less than stellar first attempt, which I had to assume was because of nerves because he hadn't disappointed since.

I don't know what possessed me to say the next words out of my mouth: "Are you angling for a volunteer?"

Clay burst out laughing, soon joined by Jackson and Carrie. Even Brandon laughed, spitting out the liquor he'd just guzzled from a flask. His date didn't seem amused to have what smelled like whiskey dousing her dress. She shoved him off and scooted to the edge of the seat, which made everyone laugh even harder.