No, Mom, I really don’t want to go to prom. I don’t have anyone to go with, and all my friends already have dates. It’s embarrassing,” I insisted.

My mother—who has been a professional model for twenty‑five years—gave me a sympathetic look.

“Honey, you’re beautiful. There’s no way no one has asked you,” she said.

In truth, four different guys had asked me already, just not the one she hoped for. I rolled my eyes, continuing the lie as smoothly as I could.

“Mom, all the guys who would asked are… well, they’re not exactly my type,” I said, stretching the truth far beyond reality. “Besides, they all have dates now. There are like two hundred girls going. Nice try, but better luck next time.”

I grabbed my mascara, tossed it into my backpack, and headed out the door. Pat—our seventy‑year‑old neighbor and longtime family friend—drove me to school most mornings since my mom worked long hours and we only had one car after I crashed the other on the way to school last year.

“Morning, Lila! Still turning down Jim, Tom, Craig… was there another one?” Pat teased as I climbed into his truck.

He’d known me since we moved to town, and he’d house‑sit for us whenever Mom needed to travel for work. Now that I was in school full‑time, those trips were rare." When we pulled into the school parking lot, Pat waved goodbye and honked at a group of students who darted in front of him. I kept my head down—unfortunately, that meant I walked straight into Paxton, the most popular guy in school.

My face flushed instantly. He laughed softly.

“It’s okay, Lila,” he said.

He knows my name?

“I’m guessing someone’s already asked you to prom, right?”

“Uh… no. Nobody has. Asked me, I mean.” I forced a nervous laugh.

He hesitated, then said, “Would you want to go with me?”

My brain short‑circuited. Paxton just asked me to prom.

“Uh… no, thank you.”

I hurried away before my brain caught up with my mouth. I had just told Paxton no.

Panicking, I spun around and rushed back. He looked understandably confused.

“I meant yes,” I corrected quickly. “I’d love to go. I just really need to get to class.”

I started down the hallway, but Paxton jogged up beside me.

“We’re in the same class,” he reminded me with a small smile. “Did you finish the test at home?”

Right. Same class.“Yeah, I did,” I said, trying to sound composed.

“Of course you did,” he teased lightly.

We walked together, talking about his dad, who had recently retired from the military. When he asked about mine, I hesitated—my father passed away before I was born. Paxton apologized softly, and we continued the rest of the way in comfortable silence.

We arrived to science class a couple minutes early. Today we were supposed to choose lab partners, and as usual, Ketea Larson—the head cheerleader—immediately tried to claim Paxton. He politely declined and joined me and my group of friends instead.

We talked through most of the period, and I ended up getting detention for being off‑task. My mom definitely wouldn’t be thrilled; I’d always been the responsible one.

When I got home, I was the one who had to break the news to my mom about the detention. She was not pleased. As punishment, she dragged me to her modeling practice for a full eight hours. The designer even used me for a fitting. I was miserable, and my face burned with embarrassment when I tripped over the blue sparkly dress my mom insisted would “fit me like a jewel.”

Thankfully, my mom made a pit stop at a local coffee shop (starbucks) after modeling practice, and I scored a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino with extra whip—total lifesaver.

When we finally got home, it was almost 10 p.m. I rushed straight to my room and grabbed my phone. Three missed calls—one from my best friend, and two from Paxton. My stomach flipped. I scrambled around my room, suddenly nervous and excited all at once. After a deep breath, I tapped the little phone icon. It rang once before he picked up.

“Hey! I called you earlier. What were you doing?” His voice was muffled like he was eating.

“I was at my mom’s modeling practice. Punishment for getting detention,” I said, laughing. We talked for almost an hour before my mom poked her head in.

“Hey, hon? Who is that?”

“Just a new friend from school.” She lit up—thrilled I was making friends this late in the school year. Moms…

“Yay! What’s her name?” she asked, but the microwave beeped and saved me. “Well, that’s my food! I’m glad you’re making new friends.”

Once she left, Paxton and I slipped right back into conversation.

“So,” he said softly, “I’m having a pool party in a few days. Want to come?”

“I’m busy this weekend. Sorry. I’d love to come another time, though.” I hated turning him down. After we hung up, I checked the clock—12:48 a.m. We’d been talking for over two hours.

Downstairs, my mom was asleep on the couch, her nightly glass of wine on the table. I tiptoed past her into the kitchen. The fridge was basically empty, so I grabbed a bag of pita crackers from the cabinet and headed back upstairs.

I showered, humming along to the music blasting from my phone. I couldn’t sing to save my life, so humming was safer. Afterward, I slipped into pajamas, curled up in bed with my crackers, and put on a Hallmark movie. I made it about forty‑five minutes before passing out.

At 5 a.m., I woke to pots and pans clattering. School was canceled for teacher meetings, so I had the whole day to myself. I ran downstairs to find my mom making pancakes.

“Pancakes?” I asked. I hadn’t had them in years—they were too messy.

“I felt like them today,” she said, flipping one. “I’ll be gone all day, so I made food you can reheat tonight.”

My phone buzzed.

Paxton(from school)

Hey! Are you free today? We’re going to Daron’s restaurant and then the beach. Want to come?

I’d love to go!!! What time?

We haven’t set a time.

LOL. I can be at Daron’s around 4-ish.

I set my phone down, and Lila called immediately. She launched into a rant about being asked out and how I didn’t call her back yesterday. I told her I’d been on the phone with the hottest boy in school. Silence… then a scream so loud I dropped my phone. When I picked it up, there was a new crack. Not surprising. My phone buzzed again, lighting up the counter.
Paxton(from school)

~ Actually, we might head out earlier. I’ll let you know.

A jolt of nerves shot through me. Earlier? How much earlier?
I didn’t know why, but it felt like today was going to matter.