Synopsis: Ashley isn't a fan of Prom. Not when it's advertised as this big, celebratory party exclusively for those at the top of the pecking order. But when Chris and Matt both decide to compete with each other to see who can win Ashley a Prom crown, who will succeed? And will that change her mind about the whole thing? A very short story about Prom, romance and obligatory long words.

Genre: Comedy, Romance, Friendship

Ending: Pre-Game

Rating: T

A/N: I have to say, this story is ridiculously fun to write. But also challenging. I can see it pan out like one of those amusing, high school chick-flicks - but trying to transfer that into words is tricky. I hope it all comes across alright! Thank you all for loving it!

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Chapter Two

Plans, Rotting Oranges and Meddling

Okay, Natural Sciences is the worst subject invented.

Ashley slaps her books on the cold, cafeteria table, a collapsed Chris jolting awake.

"Huh?" He grunts, blinking and rubbing his incredibly attractive eyes, framed by those incredibly attractive glasses. Not that Ashley had any time to think about that when she was far too concerned with the bitter injustice she had just been served. "Wha-?"

That was it. She was now going to become a lawyer. She would fight for those unfairly treated, just as she had been. She would fight against injustices, just like these. And she would fight them. And win. All the time.

'How dare you claim that my client's A-grade homework was only worth a C,' She'd pierce the courtroom with one of her entirely professional and case-winning stares. 'I have sufficient evidence to prove that her homework was extremely well researched and relevant. Even Steven Hawking would have been proud!'

"Ash?" A very small-voiced Chris whimpers, tired eyelids batting, arms crumpled across the crucially bland, circular table.

"Remind me never to become a scientist," Ashley groans, dropping into the seat opposite him with a thump.

Remind me to definitely become a lawyer.

"Gotcha," a yawning Chris snaps finger guns at her, making impressive sound effects by clicking his tongue. Though Ashley wouldn't mind him doing other things with his tongue.

"You didn't hear a word I just said, did you?" Ashley tuts, plopping her chin against her arm, leaning down to Chris' level – which is currently horizontal to the table. She peers her eyes at him, fingers playfully batting at his nose.

He scrunches up his face. He's even cute when he looks like a raisin.

"Thanks, Ash," he mutters sarcastically, nose wrinkled as he pulls himself into something that vaguely resembles a sitting position. His lips twitch into an amused smile, hand pushing into his pocket. And there it is. The ambiguous sound of paper crumbling. Okay, if Chris has gum, he better offer her some. Otherwise she's going back to fantasizing about Ryan Gosling. "Actually, I wanted to-"

"Ashley," A cafeteria tray clatters down on the table, directly between the two of them.

Ashley jerks her head up in the owner's direction. She's not used to this kind of brute force when it comes to cafeteria trays.

"Matt," Chris weakly smiles. Or maybe that's him gritting his teeth. Ashley really can't tell. She should brush up on all this body language stuff. She'd need it to become a lawyer.

"Hey," Matt brushes his hand in Chris' direction, eyes barely flashing in his direction. Ooh. Burn! "Listen," Matt says, eyes lit up like those creepy huge, furby eyes. "I've got an idea," He beams, sliding into his seat. "How about-"

"What are these?" Ashley cringes, plucking at a rounded lump of a turd-look-a-like plonked on the side Matt's tray. She wretches when the thing, revealed to have skin, feels like a horrid mix of rubber and fur. Ew!

"What?" Matt shrugs like it's nothing – he's pretty good at doing that – and casually picks one up, bouncing it in his palm. "It's just an orange."

"That's an orange?" Ashley careens away, speaking as if she were an alien, learning all these English words for the first time, just as Chris chimes in with his own commentary; "It's a pretty beat up orange."

"It's not pretty at all," Ashley mutters, flashing Chris a concurring, playful smile. He reciprocates, flashing his signature, fall-for-me grin. Gladly!

"Hey," Matt says matter-of-factly. "It was half price. Besides," he smirks, gripping the orange in his hand, fingers slipping into the rotting flesh. Ashley is definitely going to barf. "It's perfect for hitting Munroe's."

Then he whips up out of his seat and pelts the orange across the room, the rotten fruit colliding with a skull. Crack!

"Hey!" Mike crashes up from his seat just as Matt slaps back down into his, face wide with a grin. Ashley slaps hands over her bit-lipped, laughing mouth. They both ignore Chris' awkward, trying-to-avoid-all-confrontation move, leaning back in his creaking chair.

Matt, the baseball star. It all makes sense now. Rotten oranges! The secret! Who knew?

"Curse you, McConaughey!" Mike shouts across the cafeteria, dramatically shaking his fist. Ashley's pretty sure Mike has never actually made the effort to refer to Matt by his actual name. Because it's apparently hilarious to nickname people after slightly-overrated but talented actors. (What? She likes Matthew McConaughey. Not as good as Gosling, though.) Matthew McConaughey now has the privilege to add 'hilarious nickname' to his long list of successful chick-flick roles.

"He'll calm down," Matt laughs under his breath, returning his attention to Ashley. Chris looks like he's about to wipe a ton of sweat from his forehead. He's evidently not ready to be challenged into a fight with Mike Munroe just yet. Give him a speed texting competition any day.

"Anyway," Matt finally breaths, leaning forward excitedly. "Since you're so anti-prom," he grins, his eyes flashing mischievously.

"Ugh," Ashley groans, fed up of hearing that word. "Don't get me started."

Just then, Chris' face flashes with panic, his hand crashing into his crunching pocket. Then, in a second, his hand flies over his shoulder, crumpled paper whipping out of it, landing square inside an unexpectant Jessica's soup.

Ashley quirks her head at him, giving him a look. What's up with you?

He shrugs casually. That shrug could solve numerous problems. It could probably cure cancer if they gave him a chance.

The cafeteria erupts with one of Jessica's typical high pitched screeches. "Prom?" She squeals, jumping out of her chair. Ashley snaps her head in Jess' direction, seeing the cheerleader having already unpeeled the soggy, scrunched up paper. "YES!" She screams in joy, jumping on her unexpecting, average-Jock boyfriend – who looks just as surprised as her. Also terrified.

Ashley laughs. Chris panics, rubbing the back of his neck. Matt tuts, shaking his amused head.

"How about," Matt finally outlines for Ashley, fingers tracing invisible plans on the cafeteria table. His eyes – swimming with ideas – connect with hers, "I win you a prom crown?"