At some point, Clara caught her eye from across the room and gave her a huge, knowing thumbs-up.

Then Adrien was beside her.

She didn’t know how. Her feet felt like two foreign objects. But the song changed—something slow, something with a bass line that traveled up from the floorboards—and Adrien took her cup from her hand, set it on a shelf, and pulled her into the center of the room.

But he smiled, showing the chipped tooth. “Want to dance?”