Prologue

Neil spent the entire day of the prom at the arcade.

He fed quarters into the machines until his fingers ached and the neon lights blurred. Fighting games, racing games, whatever kept his hands busy and his mind off the tuxedo hanging in his closet and the corsage wilting in the refrigerator. By the time he finally walked through the front door, the clock on the kitchen wall read a few minutes past four.

His mother was waiting with that tight, expectant smile she always wore on big nights.

“There you are. You’d better hurry and get ready. Marilyn’s going to be-”

“I’m not going.”

The smile vanished. “What?”

Neil dropped his backpack by the stairs and headed for the fridge. “I decided I’m not going. Marilyn can go without me. It’s not a big deal.”

“Neil-”

He didn’t wait for the rest. He took a soda upstairs, shut his bedroom door, and turned the volume up on his headphones. The suit stayed in the closet. The shoes stayed in the box.

An hour after he was supposed to have picked her up, the phone rang.

He almost didn’t answer. When he finally did, Marilyn’s voice came through sharp and already edged with panic.

“Where are you? I’ve been ready for an hour. My mom keeps asking if something’s wrong. Neil, where *are* you?”

He leaned back against the headboard and stared at the ceiling. “I’m not going.”

Silence. Then a short, disbelieving laugh. “What?”

“I said I’m not going. You can go by yourself. Or with someone else. Whatever. I don’t care.”

There was a beat of pure, stunned quiet.

Then Marilyn’s voice rose into something raw and furious.

“You absolute *bastard*-!”

The line went dead with a violent click.

Neil set the phone down on the nightstand, took a long drink of his soda, and went back to his game.

**Chapter 1**

Neil woke to soft morning light filtering through pale pink curtains.

The room around him was unmistakably feminine-ruffled bedspread in soft pastels, a vanity cluttered with perfume bottles and jewelry stands, posters of ballet dancers and fashion spreads on the walls. He sat up slowly. The satiny pink pajamas with the little teddy-bear print whispered against his skin as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. For a moment he simply stared at the delicate fabric covering his body, then rose and walked to the bathroom.

He showered quickly, the water hot and clean. Afterward he towel-dried and gathered his hair into a simple ponytail at the base of his neck. In the mirror the face looking back still felt like his own, even if everything else about the morning did not.

He dressed carefully.

First came the colorful short-sleeved blouse-vibrant floral print in bright pink, orange, yellow, and soft green foliage on a light background. The short puff sleeves gathered lightly at the cuffs, and the relaxed square neckline sat neatly against his collarbones. Next he stepped into mid-thigh white denim shorts with the cuffs neatly rolled. Flat, open-toe tan leather strap sandals completed the look. Finally he slipped the light pink structured leather flap handbag across his body so the slim strap rested against his shoulder. He checked himself once in the full-length mirror, adjusted the bag, and left the house.

The salon appointment took nearly three hours.

For two of them the stylist worked in near silence, shaping his hair into a sleek low chignon with a deep side part. Pins and product held every strand in place until the style was smooth and elegant. Afterward he sat through another half hour of leg waxing, the strips peeling away with sharp, efficient tugs. While the technicians worked, Neil kept his phone in one hand, texting Rose, Cathy, and Joanna in a group chat.

*Can’t wait for tonight. We’re going to look so good. Take so many pictures with me, okay?*

Their replies came back in a flurry of excitement and heart emojis. He smiled at the screen between procedures.

When he left the salon his legs were smooth and his hair perfectly set. He went straight to the boutique.

The dress was waiting.

Floor-length royal blue. Fitted mermaid silhouette with a dramatic high side thigh slit on the left leg. The semi-sheer halter-neck bodice plunged in a deep V with an illusion mesh center panel, covered in blue lace appliqué embroidery of floral and leaf vines, scattered tonal beadwork and sequins catching the light. The skirt was lustrous satin that shifted with every movement, fine horizontal ruching around the hips cascading into a smooth, floor-sweeping hem. Neil tried it on once more under the attendant’s careful eye, confirmed the fit, and carried the garment bag home like something precious.

Back in the bedroom he laid everything out with deliberate care.

Royal blue lace panties. Matching strapless bra. Sheer pantyhose. The gown itself. Delicate silver ankle-strap high heels with a subtle crystal-embellished toe band. A platinum Y-drop pendant necklace set with clear stones. A classic silver tennis bracelet. A structured hard-shell silver-frame clutch with a crystal-embellished surface and slim chain strap.

He dressed slowly.

Panties first, smoothed into place. Then the bra, adjusted until it sat perfectly. The pantyhose were drawn up carefully so no snag or wrinkle remained. Only then did he step into the gown, guiding the zipper up with both hands, settling the halter and the deep V until the bodice hugged him exactly as it should. He fastened the necklace, slid the bracelet onto his wrist, and stepped into the silver heels. The clutch waited on the bed.

Makeup took two full hours.