A couple days after that, the rest of the girls were destined to get dates. For Andrea, she was awfully surprised to get the date that she had. It all started in art class where she partnered with a couple of girls for a project. When the teacher went out of the classroom, as Andrea was standing by her table for room, she was approached by Kevin Christie, her handsome ex-boyfriend.
"Looking good, Andy," he commented from behind.
Andrea turned her head. "You like what you see?"
"More like seeing what I like. What's that on your shoes? Cheetah?"
"Leopard."
"Ah, I'm not surprised." Kevin placed his hand on her shoulder. "You always knew how to rock it."
Andrea faced him. "That's not the only thing I know to r-- Wait!"
Kevin took his hand off. "What?"
"Why are you flirting with me?"
"Because I miss you."
"I thought you hated me."
"'Dislike' is a better word."
"Look, are you trying to snag a prom date?"
"Yes and no."
"Explain both sides."
"Yes because I don't want to go alone and I don't know who to go with. No because I really do miss you and I think that we should work it out."
Andrea looked up at the ceiling. "I do regret breaking up with you the way I did."
"I broke up with you."
"Do you want a prom date or not?"
"Alright."
"Then you got one."
"Oh, bueno." Kevin wrapped his arms around her waist, charming her again like he used to.
When lunchtime had started, Debra went to her locker to put her books away. After dialing the combination and opening the door, a folded up piece of paper fell from the top onto the floor. She bent down and picked it up. She opened it and on it was a little letter written in black ink:
Dear Debra,
Roses are red, violets are blue
I would really like to go to prom with you
Sincerely,
You know who this is
Debra smiled. She turned around, feeling somebody there. It was her friend, Kyle, the guy with short purple-dyed hair.
"Hey, Debra," he said. "I see you've read my note."
"Yes, I have," she confirmed.
"Hmm, I wonder what your answer will be. Could you tell me it?"
Debra giggled. "I could tell you yes but you do know I'd rather go as friends, right?"
"I saw it coming."
"Then yes."
"Great." Kyle smiled.
"Corny letter but it's the thought that counts."
After school, Skye took her "friend", Jeffrey, to a diner a few blocks away from the school. There, they both ordered a philly cheesesteak, paying individually, and ate them outside. While they lunched, sitting on the curb, they had a regular conversation like they usually do on their little date.
"So my friends are making prom seem like a big deal," started Skye. "I'm going to go but I don't really care about it. All I have to do is put on a dress and go there with you. It's practically something that I do now and then."
"So I'm your date?" inquired Jeffrey.
"Don't change the subject, Jeffrey. I could go with you or I could go with my friends. Either way, it shouldn't be a big of a deal."
"So if you decide to go with me, I'd be your date?"
"Jeffrey, you're not listening. I said it doesn't matter. We would just be there being us, not making any difference. Prom will basically be like any other day with us just like right now."
"Well, we're on a date. So if we go to prom together, we would each other's dates."
"Why are you repeating yourself?"
"Because you won't ask me to be your date to the prom. It might not be a big deal to you but it's a big deal to me."
"I didn't know that. If you want to go with me, then ask me."
"No, you should ask me because you've been probably thinking about this more than I have."
"Oh, please."
"Don't play dumb."
"I'm not playing; I'm actually dumb. Who discovered science? I don't know. See, dumb."
"Skye, if you like me, then why not do this for me?"
She sighed. "Because I don't know how to."
"It's easy. Just repeat after me. Jeffrey--"
"Jeffrey."
"Will you..."
"Will you..."
"Go to..."
"Go to..."
"The prom..."
"The prom..."
"With me?"
"With you?"
"Skye!"
"I'm just playing. Jeffrey, will you go to the frickin' prom with me?"
"Frick yes."
"Frickin' good."
The couple shared a laugh before taking a bite of their submarines.
No comments:
Post a Comment