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.

My phone buzzed just as I finished brushing my hair.

Paxton: Hey, would it be okay if I picked you up? I kinda want to hang out with you alone before dinner.

I froze, staring at the screen. My heart did that weird fluttery thing again, the one I pretended I didn’t notice. Alone. With him. Today suddenly felt a lot more real. I ran into my closet and grabbed the first outfit that didn’t make me look like I was trying too hard: a soft white fitted tank top and a light, flowy pastel skirt that brushed just above my knees. I slipped on my simple gold necklace—tiny, barely noticeable, but it made me feel put together. My hands shook as I reached for my white sneakers, the clean pair I saved for “nice” days, and I tugged a light cardigan off its hanger just in case it got chilly later.

I checked myself in the mirror. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and the outfit made me look…soft. Pretty. Like someone Paxton might actually want to hang out with alone.

My phone buzzed again in my hand.

Paxton: I can be there in ten.

Ten minutes. My stomach flipped so hard I had to grab the doorframe to steady myself.

10 minutes later...

I had just finished putting on a bit of lip gloss when a car engine hummed outside.

My breath caught.

I peeked through my window.

Paxton had just stepped out of his car.

He looked…really good.

He wore a light gray hoodie, the kind that looked soft enough to sleep in, with the sleeves pushed up to his forearms. Under it was a white t‑shirt, simple but clean, and a pair of dark jeans that fit him way too well. His hair was slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it a few times, and he had on white sneakers that matched mine almost perfectly.

He glanced up at my house, hands in his pockets, and smiled to himself like he was excited—or nervous. Maybe both.

My heart thudded so loudly I was sure he could hear it from outside.

I took one last breath, smoothed my skirt, and headed downstairs. My hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped my phone again. When I opened the front door, Paxton was already walking up the steps.

He looked up—and stopped.

For a second, he just stared at me like he forgot what he was about to say. His hoodie sleeves were still pushed up, his hair still perfectly messy, and he had that easy half‑smile that made my stomach twist.

“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “You look… nice.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks. “Thanks. You too.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at his car. “I, uh… figured we could hang out for a bit before dinner. Just us. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt. “That’s okay.”

He opened the passenger door for me—something no one had ever done for me before—and I climbed in, my skirt brushing against the seat as I tried not to look awkward. He jogged around to the driver’s side, slid in, and the car filled with the soft smell of his cologne, warm and clean.

“So,” he said, buckling his seatbelt, “I was thinking we could go somewhere chill first. I kinda wanted to talk to you without everyone around.”

My heart thudded so hard I was sure he could hear it.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “I’d like that.”

He smiled, started the car, and pulled away from the curb like this was the most normal thing in the world—while I sat there trying to remember how to breathe.

Paxton pulled away from the curb, one hand on the wheel, the other tapping lightly against his thigh like he was trying to work up the courage to say something. The car was quiet for a moment, just the hum of the engine and the soft music playing from his speakers.

“So…” he said, glancing over at me with a small smile, “I didn’t really get to ask yesterday—how was your detention punishment modeling thing?”

I laughed, relaxing a little. “Humiliating. My mom made me walk in heels for like an hour. I almost broke my ankle twice.”

He grinned. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“You’re evil.”

“Only a little.” He looked at me again, softer this time. “But seriously… you okay? You seemed kinda stressed yesterday.”

The question caught me off guard. No one ever asked me that. Not like they actually meant it.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Just… school stuff. Life stuff. You know.”

He nodded like he understood more than I said. “Yeah. I get that.”

The car fell into a comfortable silence. Not awkward—just… warm. Safe.

Then he asked, “So what do you do for fun? Besides almost dying in heels.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t know. I like movies. Music. Hanging out with Lila. Nothing exciting.”

“I like that,” he said. “Normal stuff. Everyone at school acts like they’re in some competition to be the most interesting person alive.”

I laughed. “Yeah. I’m definitely not winning that competition.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think you’re pretty interesting.”

My breath caught. I stared out the window, hoping he didn’t notice the way my cheeks heated.

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking we could go somewhere before dinner. There’s this spot I like—kind of quiet. I wanted to show you.”

“Okay,” I said, my voice softer than I meant it to be.

He smiled, turning down a familiar road, and for the first time all day, the nerves in my stomach felt less like panic and more like butterflies.

A few turns later Paxton turned down a road I didn’t recognize, the trees growing thicker on either side. The sunlight flickered through the branches, warm and golden, and the farther we drove, the quieter everything felt.

“Where are we going?” I asked, trying not to sound as breathless as I felt.

He smiled at the windshield. “You’ll see.”

A few minutes later, he pulled into a small gravel turnout overlooking a lake. The water stretched out in front of us, calm and glassy, catching the afternoon sun like it was holding it. A narrow wooden dock reached out into the water, and tall grass swayed gently around the edges. It was quiet—peaceful in a way that made my chest feel warm.

Paxton parked and turned off the engine. “This is my favorite place,” he said softly. “I come here when I need to think. Or when I don’t want anyone to bother me.”

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

He glanced at me, and for a moment, he didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, but he wasn’t looking at the lake.

My cheeks heated, and I quickly unbuckled my seatbelt. “Can we… go out there?” I nodded toward the dock.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling again. “C’mon.”

We walked side by side down the little path, our shoulders brushing once—just once—but it sent a spark straight through me. The boards of the dock creaked softly under our feet as we stepped onto it. The lake was so still it looked unreal.

Paxton sat at the edge, legs dangling over the water, and I sat beside him, leaving just enough space to pretend I wasn’t nervous.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. The breeze was warm, the sun low, and the whole world felt quiet.

Then he said, “I wanted to bring you here because… I don’t know. You’re easy to talk to.”

My heart fluttered again. “You barely know me.”

“Yeah,” he said, nudging my knee with his. “But I want to.”

The words hung between us, soft and warm, settling into the space like they belonged there.

Paxton’s knee brushed mine again, just barely, but enough to make my breath catch. The lake shimmered in front of us, warm light dancing across the water, and for a moment it felt like the whole world had gone quiet just for us.

He shifted slightly, turning toward me. I felt it before I saw it—the change in the air, the way his voice softened.

“You know…” he said quietly, “I’m really glad you came today.”

I swallowed. “Me too.”

He looked at me then, really looked, his eyes flicking from mine to my lips and back again. My heart thudded so loudly I was sure he could hear it. He leaned in slowly, giving me every chance to pull away.

And I did.

Not dramatically—just a small turn of my head, my gaze dropping to the water instead of him. My breath trembled in my chest.

Paxton froze.

“Oh—sorry,” he said quickly, pulling back a little. His voice wasn’t annoyed, just surprised. Gentle. “I didn’t mean to… I thought…”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, forcing myself to look at him. “I just… wasn’t ready.”

His shoulders relaxed, and he nodded, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That’s fine. Really. I didn’t want to rush you.”

The warmth in his voice made something in my chest loosen. He wasn’t embarrassed. He wasn’t mad. He was just… Paxton. Soft. Patient. Kind.

We sat there for a moment, the breeze brushing past us, the dock creaking beneath our feet.

Then he nudged my shoulder lightly. “We can just sit. I like sitting with you.”

And somehow, that made my heart flutter even more than the almost‑kiss.

Paxton didn’t move for a second after I turned away. The breeze rippled across the lake, and the dock creaked softly beneath us. I could feel him trying to figure out what to do next, and for a moment I wished the sun would just melt me into the water.

Then he cleared his throat gently. “We should, uh… probably get going,” he said, his voice warm but careful. “Dinner’s in like an hour.”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, grateful for the out. “Yeah, we should.”

We both stood at the same time and almost bumped into each other. I stepped back, he stepped back, and then we both laughed—quiet, awkward, but real. The tension eased just enough for me to breathe again.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as we walked back up the path. “Sorry if that was… too much,” he said, eyes on the gravel.

“It wasn’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I just… wasn’t ready.”

He nodded, and the small smile that tugged at his mouth made something warm settle in my chest. “Okay. Then we’ll go slow.”

We reached the car, and he opened the passenger door for me again. This time, when I climbed in, I didn’t feel nervous—I felt… safe. Seen.

He slid into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and the soft music filled the space between us. As he pulled back onto the road, he glanced over at me with a crooked grin.

“Daron’s, right? Before everyone else gets there?”

“Right,” I said, matching his smile.

The lake disappeared behind us, the trees thinning as we drove toward town. My heart was still fluttering, but not in the panicked way from before. More like… anticipation. Something new. Something I wasn’t sure I understood yet.

But I knew one thing: dinner was going to be interesting.

Paxton pulled into the parking lot of Daron’s, the neon sign buzzing faintly in the late afternoon light. My stomach fluttered again—half nerves, half excitement. He parked, turned off the engine, and for a second neither of us moved.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, like he wasn’t sure if I actually was.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, trying to sound normal.

We walked inside together, the little bell over the door chiming. The place smelled like garlic bread and warm pasta, and the booths were half‑filled with people talking over each other. Paxton led us to a small table near the window, the kind with a candle that wasn’t lit yet and a basket of napkins that kept sliding around.

He pulled out my chair—again—and I tried not to melt into the floor.

Once we sat, the awkwardness hit us both at the same time. He kept fiddling with the edge of his menu. I kept smoothing my skirt even though it didn’t need smoothing. Every time our eyes met, we both looked away too fast.

“So…” he said, clearing his throat. “You like pasta?”

“I mean, I’m not anti‑pasta,” I said, and he laughed—really laughed, head tilted back, eyes crinkling. The sound made my chest warm.

The waitress came, took our drink orders, and left us alone again. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, just… charged. Like we were both thinking about the almost‑kiss at the lake but pretending we weren’t.

I shifted in my seat, and my knee brushed his under the table.

He froze.

I froze.

Neither of us moved.

Then, slowly—so slowly I almost didn’t notice—his hand slid across the seat bench toward mine. Not grabbing. Not assuming. Just… offering.

My heart thudded so hard I thought the table might shake.

I hesitated for half a second, then let my fingers drift toward his. Our hands touched—barely, lightly—and he curled his pinky around mine. Just a pinky. Just enough to make my breath catch.

He didn’t look at me. I didn’t look at him. We just stared at our menus like two people who were absolutely not holding hands under the table.

But we were.

And it felt like the whole restaurant faded away.

The door chimed again just as our drinks arrived.

Paxton’s pinky was still looped around mine under the table, warm and careful, like he was afraid to hold on too tightly. I didn’t dare look at him. I was too busy pretending to read the menu I’d already memorized.

Then I heard familiar voices.

Luna and Ethan.

Laughing.

And holding hands.

They walked in like they were starring in their own rom‑com—Ethan opening the door for her, Luna giggling at something he whispered, their fingers intertwined like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Paxton and I jerked our hands apart so fast we nearly knocked knees.

We weren’t even visible from the doorway.

But still—we reacted like we’d been caught doing something illegal.

I stared straight ahead, cheeks burning. Paxton cleared his throat and pretended to adjust his hoodie sleeve, even though it didn’t need adjusting.

Luna spotted us first.

“Oh my gosh, you guys are already here!” she said, practically dragging Ethan behind her. “We were just—”

“Talking,” Ethan said, grinning at her like she hung the moon.

“Yeah,” she said, blushing. “Talking.”

They slid into the booth across from us, still holding hands on top of the table like it was nothing. Ethan brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, and she giggled again.

Paxton shot me a sideways glance, the corner of his mouth twitching like he was trying not to smile.

I nudged him under the table with my foot.

He nudged back.

And even though our hands weren’t touching anymore, the space between us felt warm. Charged. Like we were both thinking about the moment we’d just shared—and the one we almost had.-

Luna and Ethan slid into the booth across from us, still holding hands like it was the most normal thing in the world. Ethan leaned in and whispered something in her ear, and she giggled—actually giggled—before nudging him with her shoulder.

Paxton and I both stiffened.

The waitress came back with our drinks, and Luna immediately reached across the table to grab Ethan’s hand again, intertwining their fingers like they’d been dating for years instead of… what, a week?

“So,” Luna said, smiling way too brightly, “how long have you guys been here?”

“Just a few minutes,” I said, trying to sound casual even though my heart was still doing gymnastics from the whole hand‑holding thing.

Ethan looked at Paxton. “You pick her up?”

Paxton coughed into his water. “Uh—yeah. I mean, yeah. We were just… hanging out.”

Luna raised an eyebrow at me, the kind of eyebrow that said I’m going to interrogate you later, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she turned back to Ethan, who was already looking at her like she was the only person in the room.

And then—because the universe hates me—they leaned in and kissed.

Not a dramatic kiss. Not a make‑out. Just a soft, sweet, quick kiss.

But it was enough.

Paxton and I both jerked our hands away from each other under the table—even though we weren’t touching anymore. We weren’t even close. But we still reacted like we’d been caught doing something scandalous.

My knee bumped the table. His elbow knocked over a napkin holder. Luna and Ethan didn’t even notice—they were too busy smiling at each other like idiots.

Paxton cleared his throat, cheeks slightly pink. “So… uh… food.”

“Food,” I echoed, staring very hard at my menu.

Luna finally looked up, eyes sparkling. “You guys okay?”

“Yep!” I said too fast.

“Totally,” Paxton added, also too fast.

Ethan smirked. “You two are acting weird.”

“We’re not weird,” I said.

“We’re fine,” Paxton said at the same time.

Luna and Ethan exchanged a look—the kind couples give each other when they’re silently judging everyone else.

Under the table, Paxton’s knee brushed mine again.

This time, neither of us moved away.

Paxton paid the bill before anyone could argue, and the four of us stepped out into the warm evening air. The sky was turning soft pink, the kind of color that made everything feel a little more dramatic than it needed to be.

Paxton tossed his keys in the air. “Ethan, you riding with me?”

“Yeah,” Ethan said, while Paxton glanced at me for half a second—just long enough to make my stomach flip. “We’ll meet you guys there.”

Luna jingled her own keys. “Come on,” she said, linking her arm through mine. “Girls’ car.”

We split in the parking lot—boys heading toward Paxton’s car, girls toward Luna’s. As soon as we slid into her front seats and shut the doors, Luna turned to me with the slowest, most dramatic head‑tilt I’d ever seen.

“So…” she said, eyes sparkling. “What. Was. That?”

I buckled my seatbelt like it was a shield. “What was what?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb,” she said, starting the car. “You two were acting like you were hiding a national secret under that table.”

I groaned. “We weren’t!”

“You totally were.” She pulled out of the parking lot, grinning. “You both jumped like you got electrocuted when Ethan and I kissed.”

“That was just—coincidence.”

“Mm‑hmm.” She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “And the knee thing?”

I froze. “What knee thing?”

“You guys kept bumping knees like it was some kind of secret Morse code.”

I covered my face with my hands. “Luna, stop.”

She laughed, loud and delighted. “I’m just saying… Paxton looked at you like he wanted to write poetry about your face.”

“Luna!”

“What? I’m being supportive!”

I peeked through my fingers. “It wasn’t like that.”

She gave me a look. “Then why are you blushing?”

I dropped my hands and stared out the window, my heart doing that annoying fluttery thing again. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

Luna softened, her voice gentler. “Hey… it’s okay. I think he really likes you.”

My chest tightened in a way that was both terrifying and warm. “You think so?”

“I know so,” she said, turning into the street that led toward the beach. “And honestly? You like him too.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t have to.

The silence said everything.

---

Ethan unlocked Paxton’s car with a beep and slid into the passenger seat like he owned it. Paxton got in on the driver’s side, shut the door, and just… sat there for a second, hands on the wheel, staring straight ahead.

Ethan smirked. “Dude. You’re acting weird.”

Paxton blinked. “I’m not acting weird.”

“You’re gripping the steering wheel like it owes you money.”

Paxton immediately loosened his hands. “Shut up.”

Ethan laughed, leaning back in the seat. “So? You and her. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Paxton said too fast. “We’re just hanging out.”

“Right,” Ethan said, dragging out the word. “Just hanging out. That’s why you picked her up early. And took her to your secret lake spot. And stared at her like she was the last slice of pizza on earth.”

Paxton groaned and let his head fall back against the seat. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Bro.” Ethan turned to him fully. “You literally almost kissed her.”

Paxton’s ears went pink. “She wasn’t ready.”

Ethan’s expression softened. “And you didn’t push it. That’s good.”

Paxton shrugged, staring out the windshield. “I just… I like her. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

Ethan grinned. “You didn’t. Trust me. She looked at you like she was trying not to pass out.”

Paxton’s mouth twitched into a smile he tried to hide. “Really?”

“Really,” Ethan said. “Now drive before the girls think we died.”

Paxton started the engine, still smiling to himself. “You think she likes me?”

“Dude,” Ethan said, buckling his seatbelt, “she held your hand under the table. That’s like… YA‑novel level serious.”

Paxton laughed, shaking his head as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Shut up.”

But he didn’t stop smiling the whole drive.