Easton
There’s a moment of stunned silence, broken by Marcus’s low whistle.
Maddie presses her hip against the table, tapping her nails against the surface, still smirking like she’s already won.
“So,” she says, feigning cheerfulness. “What do you say? It’s not like you have better plans.”
Marcus launches into a coughing fit.
Deshaun raises his eyebrows.
“I know it’s last minute, but I have a dress, so…” She babbles on. “I think we’d have a lot of fun.”
Fun: There’s that word again.
Fun: the opposite of our ride to school.
The entire table holds their breath, waiting for my reply. Everyone is staring at me.
At her.
At me.
From the corner of my eye, I notice Harper’s fork stopsmoving.
“I’m sorry.What?” That is my brilliant response.
Maddie’s smile turns playful, but there’s an edge to it, and her eyes aren’t as animated as they were a moment ago. “You know, prom. You’re going,I’mgoing. We should go.Together.”
Except the plan all along was for me to ask Harper—maybe not by choice, but we have an agreement.
When Maddie said she was waiting for someone decent to ask her, I didn’t think she was referring to me. I assumed she’d rather be asked by Kyle Cleveland, the football player with a full ride to Notre Dame. Or Riley Hendriks, our classmate with half a million followers on his gamer channel—after all, isn’t that what she’s interested in?
Influence?
Clout?
I look at Harper, who’s staring into her lunch bag like if she focuses hard enough, it will swallow her whole. Or disappear into the floor.
“Uh.” I clear my throat. “I…”
Can’t.
“Why are you hesitating?” she inquires sweetly, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. She cocks her head, braids swinging slightly, genuinely surprised at my pause. “Do you have adate?”
“No,” I answer quickly—tooquickly. I don’t have a date, not yet. Not officially. But only because I haven’t gotten around to asking Harper.
Maddie’s confident smile widens, the corners of her mouth curving into something more triumphant than friendly.
“Good. Then it’s settled—you’re taking me.”
The words hit like a slap, and before I can form a coherent response to reject her, Maddie is throwing a victorious shade inHarper’s direction. The look is quick but pointed, almost like she’s checking to make sure her words land exactly where they’re supposed to.
The table is dead silent, all eyes still on me as she walks away, hips swishing, win secured.
Time stands still.
The sounds of the cafeteria cease to exist.
