The Winter Formal—though it's not technically taken place during winter—is one of the fanciest programs Day View High holds, next to prom. Given that it's a dance, I've never been before. It's not like this fact bothers me, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't kind of want to go. But Thorne's not much of a school-dance kind of guy, so I don't mention it to him. Still, as the flyers go up and the school starts getting ready for the dance, I find that I don't just kind of want to go, I really want to go. With Thorne, specifically, just so I can have the experience.

I guess that's why I'm kind of surprised when Thorne leans in close to my ear during fourth, asking, "Have you heard about that school dance? The Winter Formal, or whatever?"

I don't say what I'm thinking, which is that it'd be practically impossible not to have heard about it. Instead I just press my lips together and nod, saying, "Uh, yeah. Why?"

Thorne studies me in silence for a moment. He taps his fingers against his desk, clearing his throat. "You wouldn't be interested in going or anything, would you, Sunshine?"

I'm honest to God shocked that the question even made its way out of his mouth. Raising an eyebrow, I ask, "Is that your way of asking me to the dance?"

Thorne's gaze doesn't waver from mine as he shrugs. "Maybe."

"I thought you didn't go to school dances?" I question, curious as to why he suddenly seems open to the idea.

"I didn't," he admits, his cheeks turning a little pink. "But then I met you." He pulls away from me slightly as he adds, "Plus, I kinda overheard you talking to Kirsten Mendes about wanting to go, so . . ." he trails off, giving me a please-don't-be-mad-at-me look.

Kirsten Mendes is the girl whose locker is next to mine, and I do recall having talked to her about the dance briefly. I guess I might have mentioned wanting to go, but I didn't expect Thorne to actually ask me or anything.

"We don't have to—"

"I know," Thorne cuts me off. "But I want to go with you. It could be kinda fun, I guess."

I raise my eyebrows, wondering who this boy is and what he did with my boyfriend. "Really?" I ask. "You're being serious?"

"I'm being seriously serious," Thorne assures me, grinning.

"You know you have to dress up, right?" I tell him. "It's a formal function, which means guys wear tuxes and—"

"Answer me before I change my mind," Thorne says, stopping me short. He shudders at the word tux, but I can tell he's making an effort. I smile as I tell him, "Yes. I'd love to go to the dance with you."

Thorne slinks back in his chair, muttering, "This better be worth it if I have to wear a tux."

I don't tell him that I couldn't care less if the dance turned out to be a total bust. All I care is that he asked me to go with him in the first place. In a way, that's really all that matters.

★★★

Charlie and Violet take me out shopping for my dress that weekend, both of them excited that I agreed to let them style me. When it comes to things like dress shopping and wearing heels, I tend not to excel. Violet has outrageous style, and I once saw Charlie climb the stairs to her apartment in five-inch heels.

"I can't believe you got him to ask you to a school dance," Charlie says in shock as we enter one of the stores, shaking her head in disbelief. "What have you done with my friend Thorne?"

I laugh as she points an accusing finger at me, shaking my head. "I was thinking the same thing," I admit. "But he seems to be serious, so I guess we're going."

"Oh, you're going all right," Violet tells me with a stern look on her face. "There's no way he's backing out now. We have to find you the perfect dress so that when he sees you he'll throw up and fall flat on his face."

"I don't think that's the reaction we're looking for, V," Charlie says, wrinkling her nose.

Violet only shrugs, starting to shift through the dresses on the racks around us. "I don't date men. I have no clue what they're supposed to react like when they see hot girls in dresses. Frankly, men disgust me."

"I felt that," Charlie agrees, taking Violet's side. "But I think we want Thorne to have his jaw on the ground, staring at Mia like she's the only girl in the world."

Violet wrinkles her brow, questioning, "Isn't that what I said?"

"No, baby," Charlie tells her, kissing her forehead. "That is not what you said."

The two of them make me try on dress after dress, until—finally—an hour later, we think we've found the one. The dress is pretty simple in design, a burgundy color made of satin material with spaghetti straps and a low back. The hem is tight across the waist, flowing into a floor-length skirt.

"Oh my God," Charlie breathes when I step out of the dressing room, doing a little twirl for my friends. "You look breathtaking, Mia!"

"Seriously," Violet agrees. "Looking at you makes me want to throw up the way Thorne is going to when he sees you in it!"

Charlie and I just stare at Violet, who obviously doesn't seem to understand that throwing up at someone's appearance is not a good thing. Violet blinks, asking, "Did I say something . . .?"

"No, baby," Charlie says, shaking her head. "Forget about it." Turning back to me, she grins. "I seriously think this dress is the one!"

"Me too," Violet chimes. "I could do your hair in some sort of up-do, with a little hair hanging down in the face for effect. And you can wear my diamond necklace to go with it!"

As Charlie and Violet go on about what I can pair with the dress, I find myself looking at my reflection in the mirror. I wonder what Thorne will say when he sees me dressed like this, the thought making me smile. At the start of this year, I'd never wondered what it'd be like to have a boy go slack at my appearance. Now I find myself anticipating the moment.

I don't know why, but I get the feeling that there's nothing in the world that can make the night of the dance go wrong for me.

★★★

The day of the dance, I go to school like usual. It's a Friday, of course, which only seems to add to the excitement I feel. I tell my parents that I'll be at Saige's for the weekend—finding that it's getting easier and easier to lie to them these days. I shouldn't be proud of that, but it's not like I can tell them the truth.

I get ready for the dance at Charlie's, which is where Thorne and I agreed to meet. As soon as I step into the dress, I feel like a princess. Charlie and Violet only add to that feeling, making me over until I barely recognize myself. Violet does my hair in a slightly messy-on-purpose braided up-do that makes me look all the more elegant. Charlie does my makeup, applying a sparkly eye-shadow to my eyelids that brings out the golden flecks in my irises. Violet carefully clasps her diamond necklace to my neck, and Charlie helps me to fix the straps on the golden heels I got to go with the dress. When we're finally done, we all seem to stare at my reflection in the mirror, admiring the work they did.

"You look beautiful!" Charlie squeals, clapping her hands like a proud mother.

"Like a Disney princess," Violet tells me, squeezing my shoulder. "Thorne is so going to throw up!"

As if on cue, there's a knock on Charlie's door. We all share a look, silently asking who's going to get the door.

"I'll get it," Charlie says, dancing all the way to the front of her apartment. I watch intently as she opens the door, wondering why I'm suddenly so nervous. I listen as Charlie greets Thorne, and he says something in response—none of their words registering in my mind.

"What are you waiting for?" Violet hisses, pushing me toward the living room. "Go get your man!" She gives me another shove, and I almost trip. Regaining myself, I struggle to walk in my heels (I've never worn heels before in my life), forcing myself into the living room.

When my eyes land on Thorne, I forget how to breathe. His hair is done in it's usual messy-on-purpose kind of do, and it's the same green eyes and smirk that I'm greeted with. The only difference is that he's wearing a tux—yes, you read that correctly—complete with a bow-tie and everything. He looks so handsome all dressed up, and I know he's probably hating it.

I blink, snapping out of it. That's when I notice the way Thorne's jaw is slack, his mouth gaping open slightly. His eyes are slightly wider than normal, trailing me with a look in them I've never seen before.

"Let's give them some space," I hear Charlie whispering, pulling Violet out of the room. I hear a door being closed, but I don't really pay attention. In this moment, it's just Thorne and me.

"Fuck, Sunshine," he says finally, after an eternity of silence. He shakes his head as he runs a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You look . . . whoa. I don't know what to say."

I can feel myself grinning, starting to blush. "Thank you," I say, grateful for the compliment.

"Seriously," he continues, his eyes still dancing over me. "I'm somewhere between wanting to take a million pictures of you and wanting to rip your dress off right now."

My cheeks flush at his words. He takes a few steps closer until he's standing right in front of me, running his hand up my arm, a fingertip up my neck until he has my chin in his hand, pulling my face up to his to kiss me.

"Wearing this tux was worth it," he says when he pulls away, a faint smile on his lips. "I'd wear a tux everyday if it meant seeing you like this."

I roll my eyes, but his words make my heart flutter. Taking his hand in mine, I don't tell him that this night is already off to a perfect start, and it's all thanks to him.

★★★

It's weird to go back to school on a Friday. What's even weirder is going back to school and seeing all of your peers dressed like princesses and princes. It's like I'm stepping into a ballroom instead of the high school gym, and that's all thanks to the people around me.

Thorne is beside himself to make it a point to be extra gentleman-y tonight, opening my car door for me and every other door that we come across. It's funny watching him act so unlike himself, but I can't say that I don't like it. He's trying just for me, which makes it all worth it.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't notice all the girls that stare at Thorne as we enter the gym. I'm surprised to find that I don't really care, though. I mean, he's not here with them. He didn't dress in a tux or go to a dreaded school function for them. He didn't get a tattoo on his skin for them or tell them he loves them. He only did those things for me, so I don't have an ounce of jealousy in my bones.

"Hey," I say to Thorne, resting a hand on his arm to get his attention. He looks down, his green eyes making me shiver. "I'll be right back, okay? I need to use the restroom."

"Okay," he says after a moment, looking like he's not happy about the thought of having me walk off without him. "Just don't talk to Ty O'Brien, okay? Or Jake Chamberlain."

A breezy laugh escapes my lips. "I wouldn't think of it," I assure him, kissing his cheek before walking off. I head out of the gym quickly, walking down the deserted hall to the girl's bathroom. It's a struggle to go to the bathroom in my dress, so I'm in the restroom longer than I'd like to be. I'm washing my hands at the sink, checking my makeup in the mirror, when Emmie enters the bathroom.

It's silent for a moment as we both study each other. I can tell that neither of us really know what to say to the other. Emmie clears her throat, wandering over to the sink next to mine. She pulls out a lipstick case, studying her reflection closely. If there's one thing I remember about her, it's how seriously she takes appearance.

I'm not expecting her to say anything to me. We were friends once upon a time, yes. But now I feel like we're strangers. We haven't spoken since October, and it's now December. It's weird to look at her and know so many things about her, like the fact that blue is her favorite color but only in navy and that Cam Custer was her first kiss when we were in the sixth grade. Now, though, it doesn't seem like any of that matters. The thought makes me sad.

I guess that's why I'm so shocked when she closes her lipstick container and meets my gaze in the mirror, saying, "You look really pretty, Mia."

I can feel my mouth opening and closing like a fish, wondering what to say. All these words, yet it's like there's nothing for me to say.

"You do, too," I say finally. And she does. She's dressed the way only Emmie could ever pull off, her blonde hair straightened, bold red lipstick painted on her lips, a tight black dress on her body.

"Thanks," she says. Then she's speaking again, saying, "I should have said this earlier, but I'm sorry, Mia. I'm sorry for the way things went down between you and Saige. I don't know what's been up with her lately. I wanted to talk to you, but I didn't know what to say. I haven't spoken to Saige, either, though. I thought you should know that." She sucks in a shaky breath. "Maybe she'll come around one day, but until then I think you should know that you've always been above her. I mean, look at you now, Lil M! Thorne Baxter?"

I laugh, forgetting how good it feels to have a friend to talk to like this. Whether I noticed or not, I've missed Emmie. Part of me misses Saige, too, despite everything that happened between us.

"I don't know how it happened either," I admit to my old friend. "One thing led to another, and . . . here we are."

"I think it's cool," Emmie tells me, a smile on her red lips. "It's easy to tell that you two like each other. I think he's doing good for you, Mia. You guys fit really well."

"Thank you," I say politely. It's weird, because I feel like I have to be very rigid around her. Before the fights with Saige, before Thorne, before I came out of my shell, I'd never have spoken to her this way. There'd be no need to.

"Ugh," Emmie groans, shaking her blonde head. "I miss you, Mia. You think there's a chance that we could maybe start over? I've been hanging out with Asher and his friends for the past two months, and it's just not the same."

I bite my lip. I miss her, too. I miss laughing at her stupid jokes. I miss the way she can talk about one boy for hours. I miss her gypsy personality, her free spirit. Besides, Emmie never wronged me. Not the way Saige did.

I guess that's why I find myself saying, "I'd like that."

"Me too," Emmie says faintly. "I'd like that a lot." And then her arms are around me, pulling me into a tight hug. For just a second, things feel like the way they used to be. And I'm not entirely opposed to the feeling.

When I return to the gym, I find Thorne talking to Asher by the snack table. He notices me and departs from him, making his way toward me. We stand in the corner, Thorne giving me that knee-weakening smirk as he causally strolls my way.

"You'll never guess who I just ran into," I tell him, straightening his bow-tie.

"Jake Chamberlain?" Thorne asks, only half-teasing. I roll my eyes, laughing as I say, "No. My old friend, Emmie. I think we just made up."

"That's great, Sunshine," he tells me warmly, giving me a genuine grin. "She's the one dating Asher, right?"

"Right," I say with a nod. "You two friends?"

Thorne tenses slightly, but I don't think much of it. "We run in the same circles," he mumbles, immediately changing the subject. He reaches into his suit jacket, pulling out a shiny metal flask. "Want some?"

"Thorne!" I gasp, looking around to make sure no one is paying attention. "Put that away!"

"Chill, Sunshine," Thorne chuckles, his arm find my waist. "No one's gonna catch us." He hands the flask to me, and I regard it warily. I've never had alcohol before in my life, and I'm not quite sure I want to. I can feel Thorne's eyes watching me, though, that smirk on his lips. I know he's thinking I'm just going to hand it back, staying true to my good-girl roots.

I twist open the flask, pulling it to my lips before I can think better of it. The taste of something sweet fills my mouth, and I'm surprised to find that it's not that bad. I guess that means I can open my eyes again.

"You should have seen your face!" Thorne says between laughs, shaking his head and clutching his stomach. "I filled the flask with punch while you were gone," he informs me, still laughing. "Just so I could see how scared you looked when I offered it to you."

I blush, shoving his chest. "Not funny," I tell him, holding the flask out to him. He promptly returns it to his suit jacket, his eyes still on me. "It was to me," he says simply. "Besides, if you were really that worried about drinking, you could have just turned me down." I guess he's right. But he doesn't know that, for some reason, I just can't say no to him.

The music in the background shifts from an upbeat tune to a slower, more somber one. Thorne immediately perks up, tilting his head like he's trying to figure something out. "They're playing our song, Sunshine," he tells me with a smirk.

"We have a song?" I raise my eyebrow, wondering when that happened.

"We do," he assures me, extending his hand. "May I have this dance, Sunshine?" he asks jokingly.

I press my lips together, holding back a smile. "Yes," I tell him. "You may."

Thorne leads me out to the center of the gym, one hand in mine and the other wrapped around me tightly. I rest my head on his chest as we sway, and that's when I hear the lyrics of the song playing register in my mind.

Every rose has its thorn, just like every night has its dawn. Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song. Every rose has its thorn.

Thorne's grip shifts to my midriff, wrapping around me and pulling me in close. I rest my hands on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat as it pounds steadily in my ear.

This really is turning out to be the perfect night. There's seriously nothing in this world that could ruin it for me.

✧✧✧

: Better Off has 500 reads??? what??? when i put this story on wattpad, i had no expectations at all. none. honestly, 100 reads in total was my actual goal. but 500??? thank you to those of you who have read Better Off & stuck with it. if you've gotten this far, you mean the world to me. seriously. thank you so much.