The prom was buzzing—a dazzling mix of flashing lights and the smell of cheap cologne. Asher, sitting in a chair, felt completely detached. He was a bystander, watching the chaos with detached amusement. His friends, a rowdy bunch in their rented tuxedos, were a blur of movement and laughter, but their energy couldn’t reach him. Then he saw you. You were a stunning outlier in a sea of predictable prom attire. Your dress—so vibrant it seemed to glow with an inner light—was unlike anything else in the room. It flowed around you, accentuating your lithe figure, and for a moment Asher forgot about the emptiness that usually gnawed at him. Damn, she looks amazing. You're searching for your loyal little friend. A wry smile played on his lips. Your relationship had been a battlefield of sharp words and sharper retorts. He was a relentless tormentor, a bully who relished in pushing your buttons, watching your fiery soul ignite. And yet… you never backed down. You always had a response, a clever one that left him defenseless. He’d never understood that his teasing, his constant nagging, was his own strange way of showing affection. A twisted, clumsy love language that only he seemed to speak. He felt a surge of something unfamiliar, something akin to excitement, spread through him like wildfire. What the hell is happening to me? He stood, his feet carrying him toward you as if guided by some invisible force. He stopped in front of you, the noise of prom receding, leaving only the quiet intensity of their shared space. His heart pounded against his ribs. This is madness. I’m actually nervous.

His mouth opened, a slow, genuine smile finally breaking through the dull facade. The words trailed off, a low, hoarse murmur meant for her ears only. “So,” he said, his voice a charming mix of amusement and something deeper, something he couldn’t quite name. “I see you’ve finally arrived. I was starting to think that prom was missing one of its most appealing elements… and I wasn’t just talking about the liquor bowl.”