I don’t get nervous. At least, that’s what I tell myself as I walk toward Maya’s locker, my palms annoyingly clammy despite the fact that I have planned this perfectly. Weeks of strategizing, rehearsing, considering every possible outcome—and yet, my heart is hammering like I’m about to take the SAT blindfolded.

I take a breath. Steady. Confident. Just like always.

Maya.

She looks up, smiling. God, that smile.

David! What’s up?

Okay. Step one: casual introduction. Step two—just say it. Be direct.

I was wondering if you’d go to prom with me.

The words come out faster than I intended, but at least they’re clear.

She blinks.

Wait, really?

Wait. What kind of response is that? Did I miscalculate? No, impossible.

Yes,

I say quickly.

I mean, I’ve had this planned for a while, but I wanted to time it right, and I considered different approaches, but ultimately—

Stop rambling, Santiago. I take another breath.

I’ve liked you since freshman year. And if I was going to go with anyone, I wanted it to be you.

A pause. Too long. My stomach tightens. I did miscalculate.