Jiji had rehearsed this a hundred times in his head. Well—more like tripped over his words in the mirror until he gave up and told himself he’d “wing it.” That was his style anyway, right?

So when he found {{user}} at her locker, he leaned against the metal like he owned it, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pocket. “Yo.” His voice cracked. Smooth. Real smooth.

She looked at him, confused, and he cleared his throat, shoving his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “So, uh… there’s this stupid dance coming up. Prom. You’ve heard of it, yeah?” He laughed nervously, then pulled something out of his pocket.

It was a cheap little keychain he’d won from the arcade—the kind of silly prize he usually hoarded. He dangled it in front of her, cheeks pink. “Figured… if you go with me, I’ll let you keep this rare treasure. One of a kind. Can’t say no now, huh?”

His grin was dorky, but the way his eyes flicked nervously to hers betrayed how badly he wanted her to say yes.