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Scott used to imagine high school prom would be a fairytale moment — the suit, the slow dance, the boy of his dreams holding his hand in front of everyone.
It turned out, real life wasn't like that. Real life was messier. Real life left you aching over a boy who'd kissed you in secret and ignored you in daylight.
So he didn't expect to even go.
He'd told himself he'd skip the whole stupid thing. Stay home, watch movies, eat ice cream with Dylan maybe. He wasn't about to stand in a glittering gym full of couples while his heart still tripped over Brian Drake's name.
But when the posters went up — Spring Fling: PROM NIGHT in gold and black — CJ cornered him by his locker.
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"Dude," CJ said, arms folded, eyes stern. "You're going."
Scott looked at him like he'd grown another head. "I'm what?"
Zeke leaned in on the other side. "Yeah, you're going. With us."
Scott hugged his books tighter to his chest. "Why? So I can watch him with his team and pretend I don't want to punch him in the face?"
CJ raised an eyebrow. "Nope. So you can stand there in a bomb suit, looking hot as hell, and remind yourself you were never the problem."
Dylan slung an arm around Scott's shoulders. "Yeah, Scotty. Who cares about Drake? You deserve to be there. You're the bravest guy I know. And we're your dates, okay?"
Scott's throat went tight. "You guys are idiots."
"Yup," CJ grinned. "Idiot best friends."
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By the end of lunch, they'd already made a plan — matching ties, a limo borrowed from Dylan's uncle, and absolutely no sad, pining glances at Brian Drake.
Scott kept telling himself he could do it. That it was okay if it stung, okay if he still missed the way Brian looked at him when no one was watching.
He still wasn't sure if he wanted Brian to come. He wasn't sure if he'd say yes if Brian begged for a dance.
But when he lay in bed that night, staring at the twinkle lights over his desk, he felt something different.
It wasn't anger. It wasn't even heartbreak anymore.
It was relief — like he'd given himself permission to step into the light without waiting for someone else to pull him there.
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In the bleachers the next day, Brian sat alone — exhausted, rumpled, eyes glassy.
He watched Scott laugh at something CJ said, head thrown back, eyes crinkling like nothing in the world could hurt him.
Brian's heart ached so bad he could hardly breathe.
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That night, Scott stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie for practice.
He could still feel Brian's fingers on his collar, Brian's mouth on his throat — but now he pushed those memories back.
This time, Prom was for him.
No hiding, no secrets, no more waiting for Brian to be brave enough to choose him.
Scott smiled at his reflection — a little sad, but stronger than he'd ever felt.
He was ready.
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