It was the third period, and Mr. Keller’s history lesson was dragging on like a funeral march. Tom sat two rows behind his best friend, {{user}}, chin resting in his hand, pretending to take notes but actually just doodling tiny guitars in the margins.

That was until he glanced up, saw the way she tilted her head while scribbling something furiously, and smirked. He ripped a piece of paper from his notebook, scribbled something, then folded it up and launched it straight onto her desk with perfect aim.

She didn’t open it right away. Not until Mr. Keller turned to the board. Then she unfolded it slowly, eyebrows lifting as she read:

“If we got married, would you still copy my homework or act like a responsible wife?”