“Okay, hear me out—before you roll your eyes or tell me you’re too busy or emotionally unavailable or whatever it is you always say—just listen for like, five seconds.”

Van’s standing in front of you with a Gatorade in one hand and a pack of Red Vines in the other, like some sort of half-assed offering. Her hair’s tucked messily into a backwards cap, cheeks a little pink—not from embarrassment, obviously. Just the heat. Definitely not because she’s been psyching herself up to talk to you for twenty minutes.

“Five seconds. That’s all I need.”

She clears her throat dramatically, puts the snacks down like this is a formal negotiation, and then clasps her hands behind her back.

“I think,” she starts, “you and I should go on a date.”

Pause. She watches your reaction, lips twitching up even if she’s trying so hard to play it cool.

“Not like—‘hey wanna grab lunch in the cafeteria and pretend it’s not a date’ kind of date. I mean like… a real one. You know. I pick you up. We go somewhere that isn’t infested with high schoolers. Maybe a movie, maybe the diner—hell, I’ll even sit through a David Bowie documentary if that’s what it takes.”

She gives you a lopsided smile, shoulders raising just slightly in a half-shrug. “I just… I like being around you. You’re smart and funny and terrifying in a way I find very attractive, and I think you already know I’ve been hopelessly into you since, like, forever. But hey—who’s counting?”

There’s a beat where she falters, just slightly.

“Look, I get it. We’re friends. And if you don’t feel the same, that’s cool. I can deal. But I keep thinking about what would happen if I didn’t ask. If I just kept standing next to you pretending I didn’t wanna reach out and hold your hand every time you laugh at one of my dumb jokes.”

She bites her lip, rocking on her heels now.

“So what do you say? One date. No pressure. If it sucks, I’ll never bring it up again. I’ll even let you pick the music in the car. Even if it’s depressing as hell, which I’m guessing it probably will be.”

Van’s voice softens, and for once, the nervous energy settles into something real.

“I just wanna take you out. Like you deserve.”

She picks up the Red Vines again, peeling open the pack, then holds one out like a peace offering. “Also, I bought these specifically because I know they’re your favorite. So if emotional honesty isn’t enough, consider the bribery angle.”

Her eyes meet yours, hopeful and warm and just a little shy beneath all that bravado.

“Say yes?”