Miles goes to pick up Janice

He pulls up to her house at seven on the dot, which feels right. Not early enough to seem eager, not late enough to start the night on the wrong foot.

He texts her from the driveway.

Miles: outside.

Her reply comes back in under a minute.

Janice: come to the door. my mom wants a photo.

He exhales, checks himself in the rearview mirror one more time, and gets out of the car.

Her mom opens the door before he can knock, which suggests she has been watching from the window. She looks him up and down with the appraising expression of a woman who takes prom seriously and greets him warmly, ushering him into the entryway with the energy of someone who has been waiting for this moment longer than he has.

He is standing in the living room making polite conversation when he hears footsteps on the stairs.

He turns around.

She is in a floor length deep navy dress that fits like it was made for her, a thin slit running up one side that he notices immediately and decides not to comment on. Her hair is up, a few loose strands falling around her face in a way that looks effortless and almost certainly is not. There is something different about her tonight, a quiet confidence that she is wearing as naturally as the dress, like she has known all along she was going to look like this and simply waited for the occasion to prove it. She is wearing perfume that he will probably remember for an unreasonable amount of time.

She reaches the bottom of the stairs and looks at him looking at her.

Janice: you clean up okay.

Miles: you look incredible.

Janice: She tilts her head slightly. I know.

He laughs. Her mom makes a sound that is equal parts delighted and emotional and produces a camera from somewhere. They spend the next several minutes being arranged and rearranged in the entryway, against the wall, by the fireplace, outside on the front steps in the last of the evening light. Janice endures it with patient amusement, occasionally catching Miles's eye with a look that says this is the price we pay.

When her mom finally releases them Janice picks up her bag from the entryway table and turns to him.

Janice: ready?

Miles: been ready.

She smiles and walks past him toward the car. He follows, and as he opens the passenger door for her she pauses and looks up at him for just a moment, close enough that he can smell the perfume again.

Janice: thank you. For tonight. Already.

She gets in before he can respond.

He closes the door, walks around to the driver's side, and sits there for a half second before starting the engine.

It is going to be a good night.