So, about two weeks ago, my two best friends (Chloe and Max) started dating. And they're really cute! Childhood friends to lovers trope, like it's classic. But here's the thing: we made a pact to all go to prom together, eat all the food, and just steal things. Like, for fun. But now that they're an item, Max wants to take prom seriously, and they're going to wear suits, and it's honest-to-God adorable, I know it is. But I'm going stag, drinking the punch and stealing all the centerpieces while they're, I don't know, dancing and crying with the classmates they'll pretend to like for a night, I'm going to literally die.

But no problem, I'm hot, I'm recently out, so I come up with a list of people I could ask. It started out looking something like this:

Kate Marsh
Dana Ward
Taylor Christensen
Justin Williams
Nathan Prescott

I crossed out Justin pretty fast, because I think it might actually make his dick explode and I don't really want that on my conscience. Asking Nathan or Taylor is really risky with Victoria watching over them, ready to garrote me before I can get the words out, so I put them on sort of a secondary list.

You may be asking yourself, 'Why put Kate Marsh at the top of the list? Are you two even, like, friends?' to which I'll answer: kind of. Vaguely. We were lab partners once? Anyway, she gives off a strong lesbian energy, so I figure 'Why don't I just Manic Pixie Dream Girl this girl's prom night and maybe unleash her Lesbian Awakening at the same time?' Like, that's just doing the world a service, and it would be cute as hell and- well, as you may have guessed, it didn't pan out. It went something like this.

I find Kate sitting at a bench in the quad, working in her sketchbook. I smooth my hair down, get like, a sexy smirk on my face, and then say, "Hey Kate?"

And she looks up at me like, "Oh hey, Rachel. What's up?"

And I slide on the bench next to her, but backwards, and I learn back a bit so she can get the full effect of my hair and my boobs and I say, "Oh, not much, I just wanted to ask you something."

And she sort of shrugs and says, "Shoot."

Then I flip my hair, and I ask, "How would you like to be my date to prom?"

And she goes all red, and I'm like Yeah I've got this in the bag, and then she's stuttering like, "O-oh. Um. I . . . uh."

So I figure, maybe she's having a bit of trouble with the idea of a girl asking her out (and this wasn't my smoothest), but I ask, "I mean, you like girls, right?"

And her eyes go all wide with shock and the blushing gets worse and then she's just like, "I'm actually going with Dana."

So I tell myself, You must have heard that wrong. There's no way both Dana and Kate came out and are dating and you just didn't hear about it and you lost your two best date prospects in one fell swoop. But I'm a little off-guard, so what I actually say is, "Oh. Like - like as a date or . . .?"

And she's just a total deer in headlights, and I realize I'm frightening this poor girl, not sweeping her off her feet.

She replies, "I mean, we're just friends. Dana's not . . . gay."

And then I'm the deer in headlights because 1) she's clearly dodging saying she herself is or is not gay, and 2) Dana has clearly not told her she's interested in girls, so I just sort of off-hand outed her to one of her best friends, so I'm clearly the asshole of this situation.

So I try to play it off like, "Oh!" all like this is somehow intriguing information. "That's cool too. Straight people are . . ." and I just can't think of a word, and I'm just frozen there with this weird smile.

"I'm gonna go," I say. And trying to hold onto a shred of dignity, I say, "I'm sorry," as sincerely as I can, because honestly, I'm just a fuck up.

Then Kate says, "No - no, it's totally fine. Like I think it's cool that you're gay."

And that's just awkward as hell! And we just sort of look at each other for a second, and then I just make peace sign and just fucking bolt back to the dorms.

So there I am, pacing back in forth in my dorm for a while, trying to expunge that whole interaction with Kate from memory. I'm going over my list, and it's just like 'Fuck, I can't really go with any of these people.' So I'm like, definitely going stag, right? Too coupled, too horny, too carefully monitored by Victoria - everyone's got a reason I can't take them to the prom.

So I'm getting desperate. I'm thinking people who graduated, or an underclassmen, or just straight-up bailing from Prom and trying to one-up it somehow and post a bunch of pics on Instagram. But then I realize that Max and Chloe are going to offer to bail if I bail, and there's no way I'm ruining their prom, so I've got to go.

That's when I got this stupid fucking idea. But let me tell you, when I came up with it, I thought I was a genius. Victoria would be on her game to protect her friends - but that left a weakness. Her own heart.

And I can't just slide up next to her on a bench one lunch. If I'm going to shock Victoria into going on a date with me, it's going to have to be big. Something she can't say no to.

So, step 1, which I thought would be the hard part, turned out to be ridiculously easy. I text Taylor:

Rachel: hey T i'm thinking about doing a sweet promposal but i need your help

Taylor: god yes. what do you need?

Rachel: i need tori's locker combination
Rachel: do you think you could get it?

Taylor: L22 R14 L19, Locker 221

Rachel: ... just like that?

Taylor: are you seriously going to ask Victoria to prom?

Rachel: ... maybe?
Rachel: okay yes

Taylor: it better be good

Rachel: oh it's gonna be
Rachel: thanks you're the best i'll buy you ice cream

Taylor: :) good luck!
Taylor: its a really bad idea! but have fun!

Rachel: thx, thx, god bless your soul

So here is how the promposal was supposed to go. Victoria opens her locker on May 19, a Monday to find an envelope with a heart-shaped stamp (real wax - my dad actually buys the stuff) taped to the back of her locker, flanked by five roses - five to symbolize the number of days left until prom. The letter inside contains a rhyme that hints that the next clue that the next clue is in room 217. But wait! It's not in the literal 217, but instead attached to the back of the Girls' Dorm Layout board. This has a short rhyme that includes all of the elements of her Starbucks order, which by the way took a long time. She goes to Starbucks every day and literally gets the same thing every time: Grande Java Chip Frappuccino.

Now I had previously arranged with a barista that I knew was working there 4-10pm that when Victoria came in and ordered her usual drink to use a particular cup (I paid for it ahead of time so he didn't really care) that I had prepared with - get this - another rhyme. Except this one actually asked her to go to prom with me, and said she'd find me at the Arcadia Bay Pier.

Now, see, this was an elaborate distraction. I asked somebody I knew Victoria would never try and start a casual conversation with (Dana) to do homework at Starbucks so she could message me when Victoria arrived. I was technically not supposed to attach a Polaroid photo of the Arcadia Bay lighthouse (with a heart drawn around it) to a fishing line at the end of the pier, and I had to actually put up some directional signs to make sure she'd see it, so I had to do this really fast so none of it would get taken down before she arrived but she also wouldn't see me.

Anyway, so, she was supposed to arrive at the light house, finding PROM? in giant letters tagged across the light house. And she was going to find me in my suit (which I stashed in a duffle bag and hid behind the light house so I wouldn't get paint on it) waiting for her, and when she got close, I'd drop down on one knee and ask her, "Victoria Chase, will you go to prom with me?"

And she would have had fun! It would have been an exciting mystery and I'd look really good and she would laugh at my cheesiness and agree to a truce so we could go be really hot at prom together.

Of course, that's not what happened! This is what happened:

I'm almost done spray-painting the letter 'O' on the lighthouse, dressed in all black and with a beanie (because you know, crimes), when I hear footsteps coming towards me. Which I figure is bad, getting caught and all, but as long as it isn't a police officer or somebody from the Sheriff's office, they're probably not going to do anything. So I finish the 'O' and we've got a dripping PRO sign on our hands, nearly finished.

But then she clears her throat. And I freeze on top of my step-ladder, because even from that little 'Ahem' I know exactly who's behind me. I've been made. How could she possibly-

I jump off my step ladder, drop the spray paint, pull off my beanie, shake my hair out, and say, "Oh hey Victoria, I wasn't-"

But she's just standing there in a t-shirt and cut-off shorts, sipping her Starbucks, and looking at me with dead eyes.

I give her my best smile, and she plasters one just as fake on herself.

"You dick," she says, deadpan.

And I'm like freaking out, because absolutely nothing is as glamorous as I made it out to be in my head, and I also didn't think she was going to call me a dick, and I just don't know how to respond to that opener.

But my best guess is something like, "You got here so fast! How did you solve all the . . . the riddles so fast?"

She quirks an eyebrow and says, "I didn't. You clearly asked Taylor for help and she knew where it was all leading."

And of course, in my hubris, I had forgotten that Taylor's complete lack of loyalty to protecting Victoria's information cuts two ways. I am a fool and a wretch, and I still don't know how to salvage this.

So I just go for it. I don't get down on one knee or anything, but I say, "Well, Victoria, would you like to go to prom with me?"

And she just looks at me like I'm an idiot and says, "No?" like it's the most preposterous question she's ever heard.

I get very self-conscious of what my hands are doing. I find them gesticulating way too much, but don't seem to find much will to keep them from falling open in dramatic disappointment. "Oh. I. Okay."

She says, "Why would you think I'd want to go to prom with you?"

And when phrased that way, I super don't have an answer. I knew why I wanted to go with her, but why would she want to go with me?

I say, "I just thought . . . it'd be fun." And I tuck my hair behind my ear, hoping sincerity will work where glamour clearly didn't.

But Victoria just says, "Rachel, what the fuck? What game are you playing?"

And more to do with the sense of failure than the way she's talking to me (although that's really not helping), I start tearing up, but I try to just dab that away before she notices. I think she notices.

"Um," I say, "I just didn't really know who else to ask, I guess? And you seemed . . . cool?"

Victoria just scoffs. I think the look she's giving me is pity? And it dawns on me just how much things have changed since sophomore year, when she'd only resist until I showed some ounce of sincere interest, and then she'd just crumble. Sometime in the past three years she's grown hard inside, and it's not an act. I get the feeling that's my fault. I think I knew that before this moment. I think I knew this was going to happen on some level.

She takes a sip from from her drink with an 'Ah' so satisfied it can't just be because the drink is good. She finally gives me a real, dazzling smile, and says, "No, Rachel. I'm not going anywhere with you, you vapid bitch."

And then she turns and leaves me there with my half-finished PROM? as the sun begins to set.

I'm hanging off the edge of Chloe's bed, trying to look through Instagram upside down to distract myself, but it isn't really working. I've just got this gnawing question that takes a bite out of me every time I see one of Victoria's photos on my dash (which is often, because she takes a lot).

I say, "I just don't get why she'd call me a bitch. I mean, I get saying no if she didn't want to go, but why did she have to be mean about it?"

Max says, from somewhere on the bed by my feet, "I mean, haven't you been awful to her for like, years?"

"'Awful' seems like such a strong word. We've been. I dunno, competitive."

Chloe turns in her desk chair and says, "No offense, but remember that time you literally drugged her?"

That's not fair! "Yeah, with the drugs she was trying to drug me with."

Chloe doesn't seem impressed. "Hey, didn't you completely screw up the dosage, actually knocking her out for several hours?"

I shrug. "Tranquilizers aren't really my thing? Besides, she was just going to be backstage anyway."

Chloe puts her face in her hands, then says, "Babe, you're not dumb. You know she actually, genuinely hates you. Like, you asking her was funny and everything, but you should probably just let it go."

And I do know that. I know Victoria hates me, has always hated me, but it didn't used to be enough to keep her from playing along. I don't know why I don't want to let it go (beyond not wanting to go to prom alone), but it's really bothering me.

I want to take Victoria to the prom.

I don't want to leave high school knowing how much she hates me.

There has got to be something to make her forgive me. There is always something.

Victoria gets up earlier than most people of the people who sleep in the dorms to herself and her little crew coffee. I absolutely hate getting up early, but I hate staying awake at night obsessing over Victoria's dislike for me more, so on Wednesday morning, when Victoria reaches the parking lot, she finds me sitting at the bottom of the stairs with four drinks - hers, Taylor's, Courtney's, and mine. And I wave hello.

She asks me, "What are you doing, using Starbucks to stalk me now?"

"Uh, no," although that's kind of close to what's going on, "I just thought I'd save you some time." I offer the three drinks up in that little carrying tray they give you.

"Sure . . ." she says, taking the last few stairs down and taking the tray out of my hands. To my surprise, she sits down next to me, laying the tray down between us. "What do you want?"

I take a sip from my drink and shrug. Although, I do have an answer; "So, I kind of spent a lot of yesterday thinking of all the things I've done to make you hate me, and then I realized, that's kind of a lot of things."

She picks up her drink and says, "Yeah, no kidding. Why?"

And here's where I have to explain my shitty thinking. "I guess - I guess I didn't think you took it seriously. Like we've been sabotaging and badmouthing each other for years, but I thought it was . . . kind of like a game. We're the . . . popular blonde girls in a three-person clique. It just seemed like we had to fight it out."

Victoria chuckles, standing back up with only her drink. She stands in front of me, taking another sip before saying, "Maybe it started something like that, Rachel; honestly, it may have been that petty. But you changed the stakes for me. You made it hurt. I'm just disappointed I haven't been able to hurt you back enough for you to notice."

Victoria starts up the stairs, but now I'm just confused, and, honestly, a little scared. I jump to my feet, not quite blocking her path but making my intention clear. And she pauses.

"What? What did I do? How did I hurt you so bad that it turned out like this?"

She's angry now, but I do my best to hold my ground. If I can just know, maybe I can fix it.

"You wanna know?" she asks. It sounds like a dare, and I don't know why.

"Yes! Please."

I'm expecting some drawn-out explanation about how a series of little things and some mistakes I probably didn't even notice all piled up or something like that.

What I'm not expecting is for her to grab my jaw with her free hand and kiss me.

"Mh!" I squeak, but I'm too confused to question it or strictly have a problem with it. The kiss is rough, and as I stumble back against the hand-rail, Victoria takes a step closer, slipping her hand from my jaw to my throat. I wonder briefly if I'm going to be murdered, but the pressure never increases to like, choke me.

She's breathless by the time we stop kissing. At first we look at each other through heavy-lidded eyes, but as she takes a step back, she settles back into her dead-eyed stare. "That's what you did," she says, hand dropping from my neck completely.

"What are you-" I start, then pause, running through everything I can think of. Somewhere in my blurrier memories I remember a party, a house party where we kissed. I wasn't even mean to her that day, why would she - "is this about the time we had sex?" I ask, incredulous. Of all the things to be mad about, why that?

Victoria has to cover her mouth while she laughs, trying not to spit out any of her drink. When she recovers a bit, she says, "Oh, you mean that time we got drunk off our asses and you fucked me in Evan's bedroom? Yeah, it's a little bit about that."

"Why?" I ask. I'm getting louder, I can hear it, but I don't know why. "I've been mean, like seriously mean to you before. Why is that the thing that's such a big deal?"

"Because that was mean," she half-shouts, exasperated.

"Why?" I'm just as exasperated. There's something we're both not getting, that we're not saying, something that's missing, and I'm getting confused.

"Because that was the first time I-" she's shouting until she cuts off, as if she just forced her mouth shut and is trying to hold it closed. My heart sinks, as I'm pretty sure I can finish that sentence on my own.

She continues for me, though, quietly now: "That was the only time I've ever had sex, okay? And you told - you told everybody about it. You said I was desperate. You said I begged."

I know exactly what I did. I was drunk. It seemed out of character for me to have sex with Victoria. People were cracking jokes about it. And it was so easy to make Victoria the butt of the joke instead. It didn't seem cruel. It just seemed like covering my back. Just because we had sex didn't mean we were friends.

Except, "Look, I was stupid," she says. The anger is seeping away and something else is filling her up, something I don't want to see. I don't want to see her in pain like this. "I was stupid to think it meant anything, but I did, okay? I thought you were so . . . fucking special. And then, a few days later, and I'm just someone you fucked out of pity."

"Victoria-" I start.

She doesn't let me get far: "-No, okay? no. I don't want to hear it."

What was I even going to say? 'I didn't mean it?' 'I thought you understood?' That's just bullshit, I know it is. My mind is racing to find ways to cheer her up, to make her stop being upset with me, to make sure she won't start crying, but there's nothing. I have nothing to this.

"I just wanted you to treat me like a person," she says. The words cut along my skin, and I feel exposed. "I just wanted some discretion."

That's when it hits me: she's right. She actually should be mad at me.

"No, you're right," I say, slumping back against the stair railing. "I didn't even stop to consider that you might . . ."

"Give a shit about you?"

I nod meekly.

"Well I do." Beat. "Did. I did give a shit."

I swallow, looking down at my feet. She's kind of scary like this, one, but two, I just don't want to look at her hurting. "I'm sorry."

Victoria sighs a long sigh, then disengages, picking the remaining drinks up off the stairs. "That's nice, Rachel. But it's too little, too late."

She walks away again, leaving me and my coffee sitting on the stairs.

Prom, to my surprise, does not totally suck. The effect of me, Max, and Chloe all showing up in suits still gets nice catcalls from Juliet and Dana, along with a look of utter disappointment from Logan, which does have a certain deliciousness to it. Blackwell is a rich enough school that the catering and DJ are both pretty good, and I spend a good hour just sort of snacking and people watching. Max, Chloe, Dana, and Kate don't let me sulk too much, and I'm 'forced' to slow dance with each of them (Kate barely talked and blushed a whole lot, whereas Dana was just fine grabbing my butt to pull an exasperated squeak from Kate) 'against my wishes'.

Still, it feels like I've shown up to somebody else's show, and despite the audience participation, I'm just sort of there. This isn't how I wanted my last prom to be. I'm not even stealing anything.

Courtney is here with Hayden, which is pretty cute, and Taylor gets swooped up by Dana and Kate when she tries to hang out alone for a while. Even two hours in, there's no sign of Victoria. I don't know what I expected, exactly, but I didn't expect her to not show up. I didn't expect her to just hang out in her dorm while everyone else partied . . .

That's when it dawns on me that maybe, just maybe, I've got one last shot on this. I check the time, and find that there's still two hours left of prom. Still time that the dorms are basically empty.

I find Max and Chloe and I tell them, "Hey, I think I'm going to take off."

And Max is just like, "WHAT?" because it's super loud and her auditory processing is not the best.

Chloe says, "Really? D'you wanna go do something else?"

But I just shake my head, because I know Chloe's loyalty and also know I have to shut it down immediately if these two are going to have the best prom they can have. "No, no, you two stay, I'm just not feeling it. You're both so cute, seriously."

And Max grins and says, "Thanks," in that adorable, abashed way she takes every compliment from me.

Normally Chloe would probably argue more, but this time she just reaches out and musses with my hair. "Fine, fine, I'll see you tomorrow, Rach."

"Peace out," I say, signaling my peace sign as I scurry away. I took a quick look around at the chaperones, and when no one seems to be looking, I snag a Martinelli's from the refreshment table and hide it in my jacket as I duck out.

It takes a minute after I knock for Victoria to show up at her door, dressed in a tank top and sweat pants while I'm standing there in a sequined blue suit. She tired without her makeup, purple under her flat glare. It smells like she's started drinking, too.

"What do you want?" Victoria asks.

I've got the Martinelli's hidden behind my back, but at least I've still got one hand free to tuck my hair back nervously. "I . . . uh. I wanted to ask you to prom to prove I could."

With dry sarcasm Victoria replies, "Thanks. Sorry to ruin that for you."

I laugh, uncomfortable. "I've been an ass to you this whole time for credit with people whose opinions won't even matter in a few weeks."

Victoria raises her hands up in a big shrug. "Cool?" Then she asks me, "What are you doing, Rachel?"

I nod, trying to get the thoughts I had on the walk over here in order. "Uh, yeah. I wanted to say I'm sorry. I've been . . . really selfish, and I've hurt people. I've hurt you. Which is extra bullshit, because you're one of the only people here who I seriously wanted to impress."

Victoria just blinks at me, waiting for me to go on.

I clear my throat and continue, "And I - I knew. On some level I knew when I asked you to dance and kissed you all those years ago that you felt something for me. I used that, because you were smart, and beautiful, and talented, and an absolute bitch to me sometimes, and I made you a prize. And I tried it again with that whole . . . promposal shenanigan."

"You used me," Victoria summarizes.

And I just reply, "Yeah."

She looks me up and down and asks, "So, what do you want?"

I steel myself and say, "I wanted to ask you for a do-over."

She quirks an eyebrow at me.

I continue, "I know I don't deserve it, and I know I can't take back screwing you over like that. But I wanted to say to you, no games, that I've always wanted you to like me. And I kissed you because I wanted to, and I had sex with you because I wanted you. I have a - a . . . I'm not sure if you'd call it a crush? but an admiration for you. And I still want you to like me. I still want you to kiss me. But I don't want to brag anymore."

I can't tell if she'll mulling it over or just waiting for the right pause to land a sick burn, so I just try to wrap up gracefully. "So, so I wanted to ask you to be my prom date. I just want to be fucking honest for once. And I . . . I even brought a peace offering." I pull the Martinelli's from behind my back.

She stares at the bottle for a moment, then looks back up at my face. God, she's unreadable when she wants to be.

"Dude, I have wine," she says.

That leaves me stunned in confusion for a second before she opens the door further and steps back into her room. I step in after her and close the door as she grabs a bottle and her laptop from her desk, sitting down against her dresser while I sit on the floor next to her bed.

"What do you want to listen to?" she asks.

"Uhh.. I've been listening to Amanda Palmer lately?" I say with a shrug.

She gives me a blank stare for a second and then gives a groan of disgust. "Max has gotten to you, hasn't she?"

I snort and nod. "I mean, a little."

She lifts the laptop up and begins typing. "Yeah, me too. She's absolutely ruining my taste."

"Oh? Are you Blackwell's next indie junkie?"

She sticks her tongue out as Who Killed Amanda Palmer? starts playing. "I literally listened to all of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan this week like, six times. It's bad."

"Oh, folk? You're getting worse than me."

Victoria takes a sip from the bottle of wine and hands it off to me. "Probably not. I have like, standards."

"I'm not so sure. I mean, you slept with me."

We both nearly choke, which is a lot more dangerous for me because I've got wine in my mouth, but I manage to not die.

After an hour or so, we've decided to indulge in our hidden love for Cyndi Lauper by singing "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" with the empty bottle of wine and Victoria's hair brush. Any other night and we probably would be murdered by Juliet trying to get a full night's sleep, but tonight we can be obnoxious and slightly drunk and no one is even around to care. We're a little unprepared when the song ends and Youtube auto-plays us onto "Time After Time", but I can roll with a change of pace.

"Oh, shit, this is like, a classic slow dance song," I say while picking myself up off the floor, kicking my jacket underneath Victoria's bed for the time being.

"What?" she asks, clearly not getting it.

"I'm saying, dance with me. It's a necessary and required part of the do-over."

She glances around her room, ignoring the hand I've offered down to her. "There's like, eight square feet of open floor in here. Also last time you groped me like, a lot. Like more than Zach."

"Okay, so, one, you're super bad at math because there is at least . . . twenty square feet of floor space, and two - that's fair, my drunken bad - but three, it's a slow dance. You basically just turn in a circle."

Victoria turns her head up towards the ceiling and groans, but then reaches up and grabs my hand. Once she's up on her feet, I put one hand on her waist so we slip right into a non-gropey slow dance. It takes her a second to get used to the beat and to rock in time, but then we've got a steady, if awkward slow dance.

"I'm like, pretty sure the taller person normally leads," Victoria mutters.

I stick my tongue out at her. "I didn't take weekly dance lessons for two years for you to step on my toes."

"Whaaatever," she says, but concedes.

After a minute, when I feel it's safe to try, I lean in against her, resting my head against her shoulder. We're barely moving now, and I can feel her heart beat, holding close to her even if it's too warm in the room.

I want her to kiss me. I'm scared to look up at her face, knowing she'll be able to see. Even if we've been playing around for an hour, it doesn't just undo the hurt. I know that. But I get the sinking feeling in my gut that this is the last time we'll ever let ourselves get this close.

As if reading my mind, Victoria lets go of my hand, and a second later I feel her draping it over my shoulder, clasping her hands behind my back. I give weak smile as I'm pushed closer to the center of her chest, and I place my other hand on her waist. After a few more seconds of dance, the fade-out of "Time After Time" ends, and Youtube decides it's time for us to listen to Toto's "Africa".

Luckily, even that change in tone isn't enough to break the tension. Victoria pulls away from me a little, and I think the dance is over as I lift my head off her chest. But as I look up, I realize Victoria's looking down at me. Her lips are slightly parted, eyes shifting between my eyes and mouth.

Fuck, just kiss me. I beg, but I'm not sure she knows how. Not like this.

I close my eyes and stand on my toes, and just sort of hope she'll meet me there.

And she does. It's so much different from any other time we've kissed, soft, without that clawing want behind it.

When our lips part, she rests her forehead against mine, and I have to stay up on my toes to stay close.

"Is . . . is this okay?" I whisper.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "Tonight, it's okay."

I nod, then kiss her again, pulling her closer.

To my surprise, her arms drop from my shoulders as we kiss. And to my double surprise, she breaks out kiss to duck down, grabbing my thighs, then lifting me up. I squeak with excitement as she lifts me and wrap my legs around her waist, my arms around her neck, kissing her harder.

"What was that for?" I ask.

She hums for a second as she thinks, and says, "You're . . . tiny. And cute."

"And you're . . . really strong." I make a bit of a show of feeling up her back. "Which is . . . really good."

"Oh?"

"Mmhmm," I reply, pulling her into another kiss before she sits on the edge of her bed, holding me in her lap.

We don't end up having sex, to my surprise, and she doesn't kick me out. Instead we fall asleep half-clothed over the covers, fresh hickies on her neck and me nestled against her torso. Maybe in the morning we'll pretend none of this ever happened. But I'm just happy we got to have our prom night. It's not true love, but it's something good, and that's enough for us tonight.