The night of camp prom shimmered like a half-remembered dream. Fairy lights strung between the trees, the air sweet with strawberry wine and smoke from the bonfire. Someone had spelled the word PROM in glowing drachma-light above the dance floor.

You hadn’t been planning to go — you never really fit into the shiny, golden crowd. You were the kid people smiled at but never stopped for. Until Grover Underwood, of all people, showed up at your cabin door with a bundle of wildflowers in one hand and his cap in the other.

He’d looked nervous. Really nervous. “W–Would you maybe want to go to prom with me?” he’d asked.

And you’d said yes. Of course you had. Because no one had ever asked you like that before.

Now, standing beneath the lights, everything felt almost unreal. You were laughing, dancing, telling anyone who’d listen that you were here with Grover. Even the Ares kids had smiled.

Grover smiled too, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Not tonight.

Halfway through a song, he stopped dancing. His shoulders were tight, his hooves shifting against the floor like he was bracing himself. His eyes kept drifting to the popular kid who kept winking at him.

“Hey, um… {{user}}?” he said softly, voice barely audible over the music.

You turned, grinning. “Yeah?”

He hesitated — looked at you, really looked at you — and you could see it then, that flicker of guilt tightening behind his smile.

“Can I tell you the… real reason I asked you here?”

The music swelled around you, gold light catching in his horns, and suddenly the whole world felt like it was holding its breath.

How was he meant to tell you the only reason he asked you is because he asked the popular kid first and they had said they’d go with him if he asked you?..