May 2, 1996

"Let's be totally cliché and do it on prom night."

"Do what?" I ask, looking up from my German homework.

"You know what. It."

I almost snort Dr. Pepper out of my nose, making you giggle. That shit burns, but I'd do it a hundred more times if it makes you laugh like that. I glance around the library, but no one's paying us any attention. "Are you serious?"

"So serious."

"You want to go to prom?"

You shrug. "It's a rite of passage."

I've never even given prom a second thought, but when I take the time to imagine what you'd look like in a pretty dress, what it'd be like to hold you close and dance with you, it's actually kind of appealing.

I'm pretty sure you said something else, but I'm having trouble paying attention to it, because I'm busy watching you suck the sugar off a Sour Patch Kid before you pop it into your mouth.

"That's really distracting," I say lowly, kicking your feet apart under the table so I can slip my knee in between yours.

"Hm?"

I hook my foot around the leg of your chair and scoot you closer to me. "Bella," I groan into your ear. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."

You look up at me, and it's clear you weren't doing it on purpose. You're all wide-eyed confusion, and your lips are parted the slightest bit, sparking ideas in my head. "What…?"

I take a Sour Patch Kid from your bag and raise an eyebrow as I copy your motions. The tart flavor floods my mouth as I suck the sugar from the candy just like you did. I roll it around in my mouth with my tongue for good measure and watch you gulp.

"Jesus," you whisper. It's cute that you're picking up that habit from me.

I lean down to kiss you, tasting your sweet-and-sour lips and tongue and torturing myself. The clearing of a throat draws a gasp from you and a chuckle from me. The librarian is standing near our table, giving us a stern look. She only moves on when we break apart completely.

"Sorry," you say quietly, clearing your throat. "I didn't realize."

"I know. Between that and your talk of doing it, I'm going to have a serious case of blue balls."

"Maybe we should ditch the rest of the day."

There's nothing I'd like more than to blow off my last two classes and take you home to my bed—even out to my car—but I've got a science test, and though yours is the only biology I care to examine, I can't skip it.

"So, prom," I say, stretching my arms over my head. "You really want to go?"

"I sort of do. I always assumed I would. You?"

"Never really thought about it. But…I mean…if you want to."

You tilt your head to the side, and the end of your ponytail swishes over your shoulder. I don't know how many times a day I think about how pretty you are, but I'm sure it's a lot. "That's not how I pictured being asked to prom."

I chuckle and lean forward to kiss your forehead. "Bella."

"Yes?"

"Will you go to prom with me?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely." You flash me a wide grin and grab me by the nape of the neck to pull me down and press your lips against mine. "And I want the whole clichéd experience."

"So I've gotta get a tux."

"Yep."

"A corsage. A limo."

"A hotel room," you add, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

"Bella," I groan, lowering my forehead to my notebook.

"Sorry." You're not sorry, though, because even as you utter the word, you trail a hand up my thigh to where I'm back at half mast. "I want to, Edward."

"On prom night."

"Mm-hmm."

"You're serious."

"Oh yeah."

"Christ." Your hand lingers, and for the second time in about ten minutes, I want to toss you over my shoulder and haul ass out of here. I open my eyes to grin crookedly. "What if I don't want to wait that long?"

"You have a better idea?"

I should've known you'd challenge me. "Not really."

"You're being deliberately subversive."

"Been brushing up on your Word of the Day calendar?"

"I'm onto you, Cullen."

"Yeah, you are."

I watch a soft pink appear across your cheeks and know I won this round.