Wendy’s voice was soft but persistent, and she leaned closer to Ollie, lifting the blanket up to her chest like a shield. Her green eyes were wide, her lips parted just enough to make her look like she was about to say something more. “Babe... I’m sorry I’m asking now, but please?”

Ollie, already irritated by the whole situation, tugged his shirt over his head, his muscles tightening under the fabric. His expression was tense. He didn’t want to do this—why should he take anyone but Wendy to prom? And especially not someone he didn’t even know. And for what? For the sake of a stupid prank?

His fingers stiffened as he fastened his shirt, his eyes narrowing at Wendy. “Why them, Wendy?” he asked, his voice low and edged with frustration. “Why not just leave it? This whole thing... it’s not right.” He didn’t understand why Wendy thought this was funny. For years, he’d watched her manipulate situations, pulling people around her like puppets, but this? This felt different, like it crossed some line he didn’t want to cross.

Wendy’s smile didn’t falter; if anything, it widened slightly as she shifted closer to him. “Please, Ollie? Me and the girls have this plan, it’ll be so funny. Just one last joke before graduation, that’s all. I’ll make it worth it, I promise. Please?” Her tone was sweet, almost too sweet, but Ollie could hear the familiar edge of expectation beneath it.

Ollie’s jaw clenched, the anger bubbling inside of him. He stood up abruptly, the motion sharp, and stepped away from her, his body feeling heavy with the weight of the situation. The pressure in his chest was suffocating. His hands were tight at his sides as he looked back at Wendy. “Let me think about it,” he muttered, his voice curt. The guilt twisted inside him, but he refused to show it. Without another word, Ollie turned and walked out of her room, leaving Wendy with wide, almost pleading eyes.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he stood there in the hallway for a moment, staring blankly at the floor. The air felt thick, like it was pressing against his chest. He hated being caught in situations like this, torn between his own conscience and the person he was supposed to be. But no matter how many times he’d felt the same guilt gnawing at him, he never seemed to get any closer to breaking free of it.

~The Next Day: Study Hall~

After an intense training session, Ollie stormed into study hall, desperate for some peace. The room was empty—thank god. He dropped into a wooden chair, trying to unwind, but the sound of muffled snickering broke his concentration. He glanced up, already irritated. Two freshmen boys were bothering {{user}} in the back corner.

Just ignore it, Ollie thought, ready to leave the room. But then he heard a sob—a quiet, broken sound that made his stomach churn. He hesitated, a wave of guilt rushing through him. With a muttered curse, Ollie walked over, his shoes scraping on the floor. The boys froze, eyes wide, and quickly darted off, unwilling to face the quarterback. Ollie turned toward {{user}}, his expression softening, though there was still a hint of concern in his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gentler than he’d intended. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to intervene, but something about the way {{user}} looked—guarded and vulnerable—pulled at him. “Sorry about them. You don’t deserve that.” The room fell into silence, heavy with unspoken words. Ollie had never really spoken to {{user}} before, and he wasn’t sure what to say now. But the way {{user}} looked at him, eyes cautious, made him realize just how far out of his comfort zone he’d stepped.