Wow, you guys are being treated to something great, eh?  This is a short story I just wrote today, actually.  It's not my best or anything.  I've never been all that good with short stories.  I can't deal with the minimal character development, but… eh.  I just felt like posting something and this isn't so bad.  The guy in this story is actually based on a good good friend of mine.  But no, the girl is not me.  Hope you like it… and give me some kinda feedback, would ya?

Prom Night

K. Schaaf

It was prom night.  A beautiful, magical night for everyone—everyone but me.

While every other senior at my school was dancing the night away in the convention center downtown, I was at home in my PJs, indulging in a tub of cookie dough ice cream.

I tried to convince myself that prom was stupid.  Who wanted to spend ungodly amounts of money on a stupid dress for a stupid dance that only stupid people went to?

Yeah, that didn't work.

Then I tried to tell myself that I didn't have enough money.  Obviously with a dress, a hair appointment, dinner, the ticket, and any other accessories, it could easily exceed five hundred dollars.  Who had that kind of money?  My six dollars an hour pay at Subway wasn't going to cover that.

But then my mom offered to pay for the whole thing.

The real reason I wasn't going, although I refused to admit it to a single sole, was because the guy who would have made the best date ever, was already going with someone else.  By the time I had finally gotten the guts to ask him, his stupid—yet absolutely stunning ex—already had.

So because I was a huge chicken, I was missing out on a night with the best guy ever.

But…don't tell anyone.

He had become my best friend over the last few months.  He understood me like no one ever had before.  It was almost like he could read me like a book.

Except he skipped the chapter about me falling in love with him.

He was smart, funny, compassionate, and completely gorgeous.  I knew all of that before we got close, but getting to know him pushed me to the edge of my sanity.

I was in love with him and he didn't have a clue.

Not even cookie dough ice cream and Johnny Depp could pull me out of my misery.  I picked up a stuffed cat he had bought me for my birthday and threw it out my bedroom door in frustration.

"Whoa," he picked the cat up and returned it to its place on my bed, "I don't think Oreo did anything to you."

I tried to glare at him, but I couldn't.  He just looked so cute.  His normally spiky brown hair was sticking up all over; apparently he had been messing with it—something he only did when he was nervous.  He must have left his tux jacket and vest in the car—his white button-up shirt was unbuttoned halfway, his red bow tie hung loosely around his neck.  He was barefoot; I knew he hated his dress shoes.

"What are you doing here?"  I asked softly.  It was just a little after ten o'clock.  The dance went until midnight… and then there were the parties…

He smiled sheepishly, "it sucked."

"But you've been looking forward to this for months!"  I protested.

His smile widened, "So've you.  But here you are, with your cookie dough and Johnny Depp."

See?  He knows me way too well.

"Eh, it's just prom," I shrugged.

He chuckled, but didn't say anything further.  A comfortable silence filled the room, but before long, he began tugging absentmindedly at his hair.

It was my turn to smile, "What's got you so riled up?"

He pulled his hand from his hair and smiled weakly, "Nothing."

I rolled my eyes.  He was a horrible liar.

I sat down on my bed next to him.  Unconsciously, I inhaled his scent.  I absolutely loved his cologne. 

I went to play with his hair, but he grabbed my hand to stop me.

He didn't let go.

"We should've gone together," he said offhandedly.

The butterflies in my stomach that appeared since he grabbed my hand tripled.

I felt like I wouldn't be able to form a coherent sentence so I kept my mouth shut.

"I was gonna ask you," he admitted, his beautiful hazel eyes cast downward, "but I didn't want to weird you out."

My heart was pounding.  I still felt unable to speak, but he didn't seem to notice.

His eyes met mine suddenly, "You know, you look more beautiful right now than every girl in the convention center."

I didn't look away.

"Can I tell you something?"  he asked me.

I nodded, still not trusting myself to speak.

"I think I'm in love with you."

I think my heart stopped.  Reminding myself to breathe was something I had never experienced before.

I realized he was still talking, "…don't know why I'm telling you this," he sounded almost panicked now, but his fingers were still intertwined in mine, "Oh, God, why did I say that?  Can we just forget abo—"

"Shut up," I grinned at him.  My free hand slipped behind his neck and pulled him close.  Our foreheads met, but he refused to stay still.  "Can I tell you something?"

He froze and nodded slowly.

"I think I'm in love with you, too," I said, unable to remove the smile from my face.

Before long, he broke into a smile too.  "Really?"

"Really," I assured him.

And he kissed me.  It was very sweet, very soft, very romantic—and very electrifying.

It was prom night.  A beautiful, magical night for everyone—including me.