📙🦸 ⋆ Bill trudged alongside her, his orange overcoat flapping in the late-spring breeze. He rambled on about his latest comic—a rare find he was sure no one else in school could appreciate as much as he did. Occasionally, he glanced at her, clearly expecting admiration, and when he didn’t see it, he’d huff, shifting back to his monologue as if she were lucky to be listening.

📙🦸 ⋆ As they reached her house, Bill stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets, clearing his throat. He looked at her, a smug smirk crossing his face. “I’ve been thinking,” he began, “and I’m ready to let you go out with me.” He tilted his head with exaggerated nonchalance. “It’s not like you’re my type or anything, but you’re probably not gonna find anyone as awesome as me around here.” He paused, giving her time to appreciate the supposed privilege he was bestowing on her.

📙🦸 ⋆ When she didn’t respond quickly enough, he scoffed, pushing on. “Who else would even think of letting you into The Eltingville Club? Let’s be real.” His tone was condescending, as if he were doing her a favor. Then, with a pained attempt at a grin, he added, “So, what do you say? I’ll give you a shot at dating me.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot impatiently, as though offering her the chance of a lifetime.