"Look at my handsome boy and his beautiful date!" Rio Morales's voice rings out, punctuated by the click of a camera shutter.
"Mom, can we go now? We're gonna be late," Miles protests, his eyes rolling in exasperation.
"What? Just a few more!" Rio insists, adjusting her camera for another angle.
"You've taken plenty already!" Miles whines, seeking help from his father with a pleading glance.
Jefferson steps in, gently guiding Rio away from the pair. "Alright, alright, mi amor. We don't want Miles and MJ to be late."
"Sorry about her, she just loves capturing memories," Miles apologizes, a sheepish chuckle leaving his lips.
"I get it," MJ nods in agreement. "Your mother is sweet," she adds.
Her own mother isn't one for sentimental gestures, prioritizing academic achievements over everything else. Besides her obsession with primarily school-related things, she still has an appreciation for the arts, viewing fashion and makeup as forms of artistic expression. Reluctantly, she styled MJ's hair into a 90s-inspired curled updo and lent her jewelry from her expensive collection of accessories to complement the black fitted dress MJ had chosen. When MJ saw her reflection in the mirror, memories flooded back of the times when she participated in beauty pageants, her mother by her side, enthusiastically preparing her for competitions.
"Guess you two gotta get going now, huh?" Jefferson states, accompanying them to the front door. He drapes an arm over Miles's shoulders, leaning down to murmur something in his ear.
"Be safe, Miles," he says in his "no funny business" voice, causing Miles to squirm with embarrassment.
"Dad! Seriously?" he complains, slipping out from under Jefferson's arm to open the front door, a gentle breeze carrying fallen leaves past their feet.
After bidding farewell to Rio with a kiss, Jefferson leads them to his police cab, preparing to drop them off at the school. Once settled in the backseat and buckling their seatbelts, Miles turns to MJ with a smile.
"You excited?" he asks.
"Yeah! Are you? I can't wait to dance with you," she responds, a shy grin lighting up her features.
"Yeah, I can't wait to dance with you, too," Miles replies, reaching over to intertwine their fingers.
Their moment is interrupted by the sound of Jefferson clearing his throat, drawing their attention back to him.
"What time does this dance wrap up again?" Jefferson starts the car, maneuvering out of the street parking lot and navigating through the neighborhood toward Visions.
"Probably around ten, maybe ten-thirty?" Miles estimates.
"Alright, do you need me to pick you up, or are you fine walking the rest of the way home?" Jefferson glances at them through the rearview mirror. "Do you need a ride, too, MJ?" he adds, considering her presence.
"Um," MJ hesitates, exchanging a glance with Miles. They hadn't discussed post-dance plans, but she wouldn't mind continuing to hang out with him until he's ready to call it a night.
"I think we'll manage, Dad. I'll probably walk MJ home," Miles eventually decides, ignoring Jefferson's brief, scrutinizing gaze. Both Miles and MJ choose to pretend they didn't notice the suspicious look.
•
When they arrive at school, Visions is buzzing with energy, and the music is audible even from outside. The courtyard is packed with students, and MJ and Miles navigate through the throngs of people, holding hands to avoid losing each other. MJ scans the surrounding faces, hoping to spot her best friends or at least Brandon Pierre, which would indicate Isabella is nearby. They make their way through the line, hand in their tickets, and are ushered into the main hallway toward the gymnasium where the event is held.
