Evan’s POVThe ballroom glows under warm golden lights, bouncing off sequined gowns and sharply tailored tuxedos. Every hairpin, bracelet, and cufflink seems to catch fire, turning the room into a glittering galaxy. The DJ’s playlist flips from the newest hits to familiar throwbacks, sending a steady pulse through the air. My heart pounds in time with it, my toes tap before I even realize, and my nerves coil tighter with every bass beat. For most seniors at Brookview High, prom is a night to escape the pressures of college applications, grades, and expectations fading into the music. For me, Evan Brooks, tonight shrinks to a single focus: the boy holding me.Ryan Hale.His hands settle low on my back, steady, firm, yet warm. We move together in sync with the crowd, pressed close enough that I feel every subtle shift of his weight, every inhale and exhale. My palms rest on the broad planes of his shoulders, fingertips grazing the smooth fabric of his jacket. The warmth radiating from h
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