Allie grabbed your arm, eyes wide with conviction, blonde hair slightly mussed from dancing. Hannah stood beside her, arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Allie's grin was unrepentant.

Across the room, the crowd parted for a moment. A flash of golden hair. A loud laugh that cut through the music like it owned the place. Dean Di Laurentis had his arm slung around some freshman's shoulders, head thrown back, grin wide and easy. He looked exactly like he always did—like the center of every room he walked into.

Hannah rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. Her gaze flicked toward you, softening slightly.