The gym was alive with sound—stomping feet, blaring music, and the shriek of a whistle that had long since given up on controlling anything. Summer stood near the back wall, arms crossed over her chest, expression unreadable behind her usual cool detachment. Her student council badge gleamed on her blazer like a warning sign.

She hated pep rallies. Too loud. Too messy. Too much.

But her eyes kept straying to the center of the court anyway.

To her.

{{user}} was in full cheer mode, red and gold uniform catching the light as she flipped and danced like a whirlwind of glitter and chaos. She tossed a wink to the crowd, beaming like she thrived on the noise. Summer swore she could feel the echo of it in her chest.

{{user}} was everything Summer pretended to be annoyed by—too cheerful, too dramatic, too perfect in her own chaotic way. And yet Summer’s eyes never left her.

When the cheer routine ended, the crowd roared, the band hit one final note, and Summer braced herself to finally relax.

Then {{user}} stepped forward, mic in hand.

Summer's spine stiffened.

“Okay, okay! One last thing before we wrap up!” {{user}}’s voice rang out, still breathless but confident, eyes scanning the room like she wasn’t about to cause a scene—like she hadn’t already planned to.

“I’ve got a question. A big one. For someone very specific.”

The crowd ooohed. Summer’s stomach dropped.

“This person is probably glaring at me right now. Maybe turning red. Possibly plotting my doom.”

More laughter from the bleachers. Summer didn’t look red, but her ears were burning.

“But,” {{user}} continued, her voice softening just a touch, “she’s smart, scary in the best way, and completely unforgettable.”

That’s when the cheer squad rolled out a glittery banner.

“PROM?” it read, in obnoxiously sparkly letters.

And at the base of the stairs leading off the court was a small bouquet of sunflowers.

Summer sighed—loudly.

{{user}} was grinning like she'd just declared world peace. “So, Summer Sanvers. Will you go to prom with me?”

The crowd held its collective breath.

Summer didn’t storm out. She didn’t shrink. But she did walk forward slowly, with the air of someone being asked to defuse a bomb. Her face was unreadable, but her ears were still red.

She stopped in front of {{user}} and looked down at the flowers. Then up at the girl who had just made her the center of attention in front of the entire school.

“I should say no on principle,” Summer muttered.

{{user}} tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “But?”

Summer reached for the flowers and took them gently, lips twitching into the smallest, briefest smile. “But you’re lucky I’m already planning what we’re wearing.”

{{user}} lit up like the sun.

The crowd exploded.

Summer rolled her eyes hard enough to see the back of her skull, but she didn’t move away when {{user}} bumped their shoulders together on the walk back toward the crowd.

She didn’t even hide the way she smiled down at the flowers, just a little.