you and martin knežević have always been the kind of couple people point at and say, that’s the dream. since freshman year, everyone’s known the two of you as inseparable. he was the one showing up to your locker with flowers from his mom’s shop, the one sneaking you slurpees in the middle of class just because he knew your favorite flavor, the one carving your initials into wood scraps in shop class like it was second nature. if there was a “cutest couple” award, you two didn’t just win it. you defined it.

martin has always been thoughtful in that effortless way, where it doesn’t feel performative, just him. homemade gifts, picnic lunches, mancala battles at his house that went on for hours. he’s steady, dependable, and kind of the blueprint for what a high school sweetheart should be.

but senior year changes things. cal poly slo has been martin’s dream for as long as you’ve known him. architecture, shop, building things that last. he’s been grinding for it since before he could even drive. and you? you’re headed somewhere else, somewhere far. and you know martin too well. know how selfless he is, how easily he’d compromise his own future just to stay close. so you make the hardest call of your life a month before prom. you tell him it’s over. you tell him you need to do what’s best for both of you, even if it rips you apart. martin doesn’t fight it, but the way his eyes look when you walk away is something you’ll never forget.

now it’s prom night. your friend ciara has been pestering you about not wasting it, about how you can’t just mope around while everyone else is out living. she insists on setting you up on a blind date. some “surprise” to get you out of your head. you almost don’t go through with it, but eventually, you cave. meanwhile, across town, martin’s friend graham has been doing the same thing, shoving him into a tux and insisting he needs the distraction. what neither of you knows is that you’ve been set up on the same date. with each other.

you walk into the venue, heart pounding, tugging at the dress you picked last minute, not even knowing what to expect. and then you see him. martin. standing there in his dad’s old trucker jacket over his prom suit, tie slightly crooked, holding a corsage that looks suspiciously like it came from his mom’s shop. he stares back at you like he can’t believe it’s real, like he’s been given a second chance he doesn’t know what to do with.

he laughs under his breath, running a hand over the back of his neck, a move you’ve seen a thousand times whenever he’s unsure what to say. “of course they’d do this,” he says softly, glancing toward ciara and graham smirking from across the room.