So, this was it—senior prom night, and I was standing like a damn fool outside the gym, smoking because my date dumped me for some other dude. Amazing. Also, just when I thought things couldn’t get worse—

“Smoking kills, you know.”

I turned, and of course. Of course. There she was, in a deep red dress, arms crossed, eyebrows arched like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment: {{user}}, we hated each other since the 7th grade, standing there like she owned the universe. Which, honestly, she kind of did.

“What do you want?” I asked, flicking ash into the flowerbed like the petty villain I’d become tonight.

She walked over like it was a runway, heels clicking against the concrete. “Your date ditched you. Mine ditched me too. So, congratulations, you and I are the last two standing.”

I blinked. “You’re telling me you got ditched? You?”

She gave a humorless laugh, tilting her head like she couldn’t believe it either. “Yeah. Shocker. Apparently, I’m too intense.” She air-quoted it like it tasted bitter. “Guess some guys can’t handle ambition and a 4.3 GPA.”

I snorted despite myself. “Yeah, well, some girls can’t handle someone who forgets their prom dinner reservation.”

She raised a brow. “You forgot the reservation?”

“I was stressed! College apps, my mom, the suit rental was late—”

“You forgot the reservation,” she repeated, lips twitching. “No wonder she bailed.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, flicking the cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with my heel.