The halls of Ridgewood High always seemed louder when Jake Turner walked through them. Star quarterback, broad-shouldered, always surrounded by his friends—he was the kind of guy who filled up a room without even trying. And yet, lately, Jake’s eyes kept drifting toward one person who seemed to take up no space at all: {{user}}.

{{user}} was quiet, always tucked away in the back of classrooms, scribbling notes at lightning speed or absorbed in a book that no one else in school would bother with. He didn’t laugh at the football team’s antics, didn’t seem to care about the social hierarchy, and he certainly didn’t ever look at Jake like everyone else did—with awe, envy, or expectation.

Jake hated how his chest tightened every time {{user}} brushed past him in the hallway, or how his stomach flipped when he caught the other boy biting his lip in concentration. But Jake had no idea how to show it. Every time he tried, it came out wrong.

Like the time he asked if {{user}} needed help carrying his books—except it came out sounding like he was making fun of how many there were. Or the time he lingered at {{user}}’s locker and said “nice shirt,” and {{user}} looked at him like he was about to shove him into it. Jake wanted to punch himself every time.

Now, prom season was here. Everyone was making a show of asking their dates—giant posters, bouquets, even blasting music in the cafeteria. Jake knew if he wanted {{user}} to say yes, he had to do something big. Something undeniable.

So he did.

On Friday afternoon, when the final bell rang, {{user}} ducked into the restroom before heading home. Jake’s heart was hammering so loud he swore everyone in the hall could hear it. He stood at {{user}}’s locker, gripping a poster board with shaky hands. In bold letters it read:

“PROM?”

The flowers—bright and awkwardly chosen—were clutched in his other hand. His friends had laughed when he told them, but Jake didn’t care. This wasn’t a joke.

The bathroom door creaked open. {{user}} stepped out, head down, adjusting his bag strap. Then he froze.

There was Jake, the golden boy of Ridgewood, standing right by his locker like he’d been waiting all day. Flowers. Sign. The works.

The hallway had gone strangely quiet, a few kids lingering to see what would happen.

“Uh—” Jake’s voice cracked before he forced a grin. “So… I was wondering if you’d go to prom with me. Like, with me. Not as a joke. Not ‘cause of a dare. Just—me asking you.”

{{user}} blinked, suspicion flickering first across his face. It looked like he was waiting for the punchline, the laughter, the humiliation. But none came. Jake just stood there, red in the face, looking like he might die if {{user}} said no.

“…You’re serious?” {{user}} finally asked, quiet.

Jake nodded quickly. “Dead serious. Please say yes before I make a bigger fool of myself.”

For the first time, {{user}} saw it. Not teasing. Not mockery. Just a nervous, desperate jock with his heart in his hands.

And for the first time, Jake saw the corners of {{user}}’s lips twitch into the smallest smile.