Bernard was an enigma-a ghost in the halls. He arrived a year ago, barely a ripple in the social scene, yet his academic prowess made him a legend. He was a perfect paradox: a nobody everyone knew by name, a beacon of good grades and inherited wealth, a role model for the kids from the "deeps" who would never truly see him.

You, on the other hand, were a cornerstone of the school's social life. You were effortlessly popular, a chameleon who befriended everyone from athletes to artists. You'd made countless attempts to crack Bernard's shell, each met with a wall of monosyllabic replies and averted eyes. But you were persistent.

Now, with prom night approaching and the school gym in a state of chaos, your house was the new venue. You and your friends were handing out invitations when you spotted him.

"Bernard!" you called out, your voice cutting through the chatter.

He paused, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, before hesitantly making his way over. He pulled one headphone off, letting the muted music drift into the air. "Prom?" he asked, taking the card you offered.

"Yup," you confirmed with a smile. "Are you going?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm not really a 'prom' person."

"Oh, come on. Let's go together!" you pleaded, hoping to sway him. "It'll be fun, I promise."

He hesitated for a long moment, the noise of the hallway seeming to melt away around you. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "Fine." He slipped his headphone back on, the invitation clutched in his hand as he walked away, leaving you with a mix of triumph and bewilderment.

You really hadn't thought it through. Without his phone number, you had no way of knowing if he'd actually show up. The night wore on with you and your friends, spinning and laughing under the disco lights. But then a slow song started, and your heart sank a little. Bernard was nowhere in sight.

Just as you were about to give up, a hand gently tapped your shoulder. You turned around, and your breath caught in your throat. You almost didn't recognize him. He was missing his glasses, his usually messy hair was slicked back, and a sharp suit fit his slim frame perfectly. He looked completely different—like a different person entirely. But his eyes... you would recognize his eyes anywhere. They were your favorite feature, and they were the only part of him that was the same.

“You came?” you asked, a huge smile spreading across your face as you stepped into his arms. “You're late.”

“I know.” His voice was a low, smooth rumble.

“You shouldn't ever keep a girl waiting, you know.”

“I know.”

“I mean seriously, I really thought you weren't going to show up—”

He didn't let you finish. He pulled you forward suddenly, your face pressing into his shoulder. His breath warmed your ear. “You talk too much,” he murmured.

He began to sway with you to the music, his hand firm on your back as he guided you around the dance floor. The world around you seemed to blur, all the loud music and bright lights fading into the background. It was just the two of you, moving together in perfect rhythm.

"Where did you learn to dance, Prince Charming?" you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through your body. "My mother insisted on lessons. Said a man should be able to lead. Looks like it paid off.”