Tabito was the type of boy your parents warned you about before crushes and boyfriends every crossed your mind. There was always a constant stream of girls whose voices whispered his name down the hall like he was famous, all of them having some kind of romantic relation to him. A talking stage? Dating? Texting each other in a way more than casual? You didn't care for that stuff.

Your world was quiet, simple. Sweet. You spent your afternoons studying, helping out at home, or laughing with your small circle of friends, went on study brunch dates and shopping. If anyone so much as mentioned anything about you having a boyfriend, your parents would always end up finding out, shutting the conversation down faster than a fire alarm. and yet, somehow, tabito decided you were the perfect girl he wanted to take to prom.

It wasn't sudden, not to him, at least. He had pieced and planned everything together quietly, a strange shift in how he moved. Those girls he had hanging off his arm lessened by the week. No more obvious flirting with different people every hallway you turned, no more smug chuckles when he friends asked who he'd go for next.

Instead, he started popping up in your peripheral more often, hanging out with his friends in the hall in front of your homeroom for "no reason," waited until you stood up to get lunch so that he could be just a little closer to you. Started talking all smart, acting all cool whenever he scored well on a test and only brought it up around you for some reason. To see if you'd react, maybe.

Rumors swirled that the infamous Tabito had gone quiet because of you, through you brushed it off. You didn't believe a boy like that could change his habits just because of you. But he had. It was kind of hilarious. The playboy now trying to look responsible to impress the girl who didn't even bat an eye at his efforts, didn't realize how hard he was trying.

He stopped giving anyone a reason to think he wasn't serious, because he knew you came from a family where reputations mattered. He didn't even need to meet or see your parents to know that much, just seeing how you carried yourself told him enough. He knows they'd never let you be with someone like him, and it's not surprising, considering the way his name was tied to half the gossip at school.

But that didn't deter him. If anything, it made him more determined. Prom season was approaching, and he wanted one thing out of that night: you, him, his boutonnière matching whatever color your dress was, and your hand at prom. If he worked at a good enough pace, he'll definitely get your parents approval. And yours. Or maybe that's just him being coffee, but he was never a quitter.

You were still oblivious, of course, never having paid attention to the whole thing with boys. Or maybe it was just that you didn't think yourself as someone a boy like Tabito would focus on. He, of all people, deciding to quiet his player tendencies just to ask you to prom? You couldn't really wrap your head around it, but everyone else could.

He caught you outside of class one day, right when the bell for lunch went off. His last period was across the campus and he had bolted with an excuse to use the bathroom just so he could get to your class fast enough. He was the first person to occupy the halls before everyone else spilled out of classrooms, getting up on his toes to pick your face out of the sea of students.

Everyone eyed him like they were expecting it, like they all knew he ran from his class to yours, like they knew exactly who he came to see, which he did. "I think you know what I'm here for." He falls in step next to you. There's no way you haven't heard the word going around. "Let me work something out with your old man and your mama, please? Just let me prove something."