Spencer was sure his hands were never gonna cease their restless shaking and that his leg would forever remain bouncing, incessantly hitting his heel against the carpeted floor of the classroom. His eyes were worn and burned out from flickering between the clock and absentmindedly scrutinizing every inch of the room to distract himself, pleading with time to speed yet simultaneously slow down. Derek, a now proclaimed terrible choice of a friend, sat with a shit-eating smirk beside Spencer. The smug grin persisted, unrelenting and grating any sliver of solace Spencer could bask in.

Monday.

Tired of his pent up feelings for a girl vastly out of his league, Spencer had confided in Derek, albeit not entirely willingly. Ever observant — though it would take an idiot not to see it — he watched amusedly as Spencer’s eyes helplessly followed the girl around like a stray dog, blown-out doe eyes and a lovestruck glossed over look. After a mocking fit of laughter and cackles paired with the way Spencer’s cheeks painted a deep red in embarrassment, Derek wore a patronizing grin.

By Thursday, Derek was losing his amusement observing the same heart-eyed look Spencer’s eyes brimmed with as she passed, but his interest and unremittingly need for meddling was far from dissipated. Determined to spark something, he slipped a note in her locker on Spencer’s behalf, requesting her to meet him after school on Friday in the back parking lot —the comically wide-eyed look and slack jaw Spencer gave when he was told this had Derek howling with laughter for a good while.

Friday.

Being the "phenomenal" wingman he was, Derek bought flowers, forcing them into Spencer’s grasp and encouraging (demanding) him to offer them to the girl when he was set to ask her out. After a minute of sputtering and sheer panic, he begrudgingly and cautiously stored them in his locker.

The end of the day ticked steadily and terrifyingly closer until it reached its dreaded peak. The bell rang, sounding an awful lot like the Purge alarm in his ears, a glaring warning sign to retreat to the safety of isolation.

"Worst she can say is 'no', and you move on," Derek reminded again, patting a friendly hand on Spencer’s back as he walked him towards the back parking lot.

"Hypothetically, there are far worse outcomes than that," Spencer countered quietly under his breath, his voice perpetually laced with that matter-of-fact voice despite the unadulterated fear coursing in his system. He anxiously fidgeted with the flowers, the sight loud and gaudy enough to catch passersby’s scrutinizing attention — why would Spencer, designated freak show of the school, of all people, be bothering to try and score a date?

Derek gave him one last shove out the door before turning away, leaving Spencer waiting in the back lot, pacing anxiously. His hands nearly wrung out the flowers, nearly tearing apart the stems in a fit of momentary hysteria. His steps abruptly halted as the back door swung open and fell shut heavily behind the girl he dreaded and dreamed of seeing.