"Have you decided if you're going yet?" You shout from inside the cubicle.
It's prom in nearly a week and you've been excited about it since the beginning of the semester, but you don't say anything about it because your best friend, Chris, has been mopey about it ever since the first assignment. But despite the fact that he's anti-prom, he practically jumped at the opportunity when you asked him to come shopping with you and give you opinions on dresses. You decided on a small independent store off the main road somewhere called "Memorie" that sells local designers' clothes and old books. They serve the creamiest hot chocolate and they play the best music, and it's also the place where you and Chris met.
You guys have been there for nearly an hour and you haven't found anything that you like on scowled at your reflection in the mirror - the pink princess-style dress looked good on the hanger but it makes you look like a Disney prostitute.
"Eh.. Maybe. I'm not sure," Chris says as you come out of the cubicle and do a sarcastic little twirl.
He's sitting on the arm of one of the tacky brown leather chairs that was supplied - with a "ugh" and a "whatever" - by the angsty hipster working the counter.
"Y/N.." He looks at you like he wants to say something but has second thoughts about it.
"Yeah?" You stop twirling and look at him expectantly.
He cringes. "You look like a Disney prostitute."
You laugh and push him so that he falls into the seat of the sofa. "Do you always have to read my mind? It's starting to get a little scary."
He winks at you as he hangs his legs over the side of the sofa and puts his hands behind his head. You pull a face at him and grab the next dress on the pile. It's a strapless floral-print one that Chris handed to you without saying a word.
"So I hear that the 'no' has evolved into a 'maybe'", you say as you close the door behind you. "What changed your mind? Or rather, whom?"
"Nothing, really," came the reply. "I just figured that this is my last chance at something great and maybe my opinions on the whole idea of prom are a bit pretentious and arrogant."
"Ah," you slip your legs into the dress. "So is there a lucky girl that could change that 'maybe' into a 'yes'?"
"There might be. I don't know if she feels the same, and I haven't mustered up the balls to ask her yet."
"So she's special to you?"
"She means everything to me. It's amazing she hasn't figured it out yet."
You feel your heart drop a little. "Oh.. Well.. I'm sure she feels the same. It's impossible not to like you."
You give yourself one last check in the mirror, and then push the door open. Chris is leaning his elbows on his knees, frowning at his phone when you step out. You cough a little.
He glances up at you and then suddenly stands up. "Wow. That one, I mean-" He clears his throat. "Yeah, you look gorgeous."
You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. "You like it?"
He gives you a small little nod, smiling at you. You smile back. "So what's holding you back? Why haven't you asked her yet?"
He shrugs and takes a step towards you, quickly snapping a photo of you before you can protest. "She's too good for me. Plus, she can't dance for shit."
You swallow a huge lump in your throat and try and steady your heartbeat. Why is he looking at you like that? And why is he holding a hand out to me?
You silently place your hand in his and he gently pulls you against him, starting to dance slowly along to the song that's playing quietly out of the overhead speakers. "Do you remember this song, Y/N?" He rests his chin on your head.
You close your eyes and try and focus on the song. It's 'Flightless Bird, American Mouth' by Iron & Wine, the same song that was playing the day you accidentally tripped and spilled cocoa over an unexpecting Chris sitting at a table, reading a book and listening to music through his earphones. You groan and you feel Chris giggle. "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad you messed all over me. It was probably the best day of my life."
He gently lifts your face up so that he's looking straight down into your eyes. "I love you," he murmurs, before softly placing his lips to yours.
After a few moments, he pulls back and looks at you again, slipping his fingers through yours. "So, prom? What time should I pick you up?"
You laugh and pull him down for another kiss, muttering "You pretentious little shit" in between breaths.