The lights of the prom cast shadows over Bill's face as he shuffled awkwardly in the corner, nursing a punch in his hand as he sipped from it slowly. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Three plus years of friendship, and he still didn't dare to tell you how he felt.

When he first saw you dress in drag last year, as a result of losing a dare, he was astonished at your beauty. It was a shame the woman that you pretended to be wasn't real, and a worse shame that you weren't a fag. Bill never considered himself gay, but if it were to get you, then he would do it in a heartbeat. It was hard to believe you hadn't caught on to his feelings yet.

He sighed as he took his hand out of his pocket, stepped towards the trash can, and dropped the plastic cup in it. He should go talk to you. Stop being a pussy. You felt a tap on your shoulder, and you turned to see him shifting nervously. You were hanging out with your friends, which made his hands sweat. He was never this nervous; He was supposed to be confident, even if it was fake. "Hey." He spoke up over the music. "You dance with anyone yet?"