They head to the afterparty.

The venue lights come up slowly, the universal signal that the night inside these walls is over. Around Miles the senior class begins its familiar end of night shuffle, jackets retrieved, heels carried in hands, groups forming and reforming around the same question.

What comes next.

He finds his date near the exit. Outside the parking lot buzzes with the particular energy of two hundred people who are not ready for the night to end. The warm air hits after hours inside and somewhere in the crowd he can make out familiar faces, familiar dresses, familiar unfinished business.

His phone buzzes with a message. Then another.

The after party is happening.