In high school, you had missed out on a lot of firsts, having decided to focus on academics rather than partying or other things your classmates did. Along the things you missed was junior and senior prom. You missed all the dances actually but those were the two most important. Or so everyone around you claimed. They seemed so minuit in the grand scheme of things in your opinion. Had you not been so focused on academics, you wouldn’t have gotten valedictorian or a full ride scholarship to your dream university. You thanked the heavens the day you received that letter in the mail.

You thanked the heavens a second time when your unwavering dedication to keep your nose stuffed in a textbook led you receiving another scholarship for medical school. It seemed like someone was looking out for you up in the sky, maybe it was your family who had passed on and wanted to see you succeed in life.

The third time you thanked the heavens was when you got your first choice of hospital: Seattle Grace. That night, you went out and celebrated with some friends from medical school. You felt untouchable, on top of the world even, the luckiest person alive. Yet, despite all these great things happening one after the other, falling right into your lap, there was still that nagging voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the things that could’ve held you back like prom. It gnawed at you like a dog on a bone.

The fourth time you thanked the heavens, though it seemed wrong at the time because Chief Webber’s niece had requested he hold a prom at the hospital since she had missed hers, was when Mark Sloan had asked you to be his date. Among the amalgamation of feelings swirling inside, the first one you noticed was shock. Mark Sloan, the guy who could have any pick of women in the hospital, was asking you to be his date to the prom? No. No way, this had to be a dream. You even pinched yourself to be sure.

“This prom… thing the Chief’s niece wants,” Mark muttered as you two walked together. “Be my date?”