“You probably don’t know me,” Peter says, swallowing his nerves. He’s almost afraid he’s going to puke his lunch onto your lap. “But we have a classes together. Three, actually. We’ve been going to the same school since we’re nine.”

His mouth is dry. He’s trying to ask you out; trying to not live a life of regrets. Sure, you’ll probably reject him, but he asked! Rejection isn’t bad. His clammy hands say otherwise.

“Didyouwannagooutsometime?” he asks quickly, letting out a deep breath.