chapter 28
May 8, 2025
The crowd parted like it had been scripted.
The music shifted, softer now, Elton John’s “Your Song” bleeding out through the speakers, just warbled enough to sound almost magical under the string lights and glitter-drenched gym ceiling.
The whole room went dead silent.
No chatter. No fake laughs. No rustling of cupcake wrappers.
Just hundreds of eyes, and phones, swiveling toward the open space in the middle of the dance floor.
And there he was.
Jaxon.
Walking toward me like it was the most normal thing in the world, like there weren’t a hundred people watching, recording, whispering.
He looked a little wild, tie askew, suit jacket hanging open — like he’d been through a war and decided I was still the prize at the end of it.
He stopped a few steps away.
“You kissed me and blamed it on stress,” he said, voice low enough it barely carried. “I let you.”
A ripple went through the crowd — tiny gasps, some girl stage-whispering “Oh my god, it’s happening,” like we were a live-action soap opera and she’d been waiting all season for this.
“But it was never stress, Torres,” Jaxon said, a half-smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. “It was always you.”
The gym collectively forgot how to breathe.
He took another step closer, eyes locked on mine, steady and sure in a way that made my stomach somersault.
“I’m done hiding,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear now. “You’re the smartest, sharpest, most chaotic person I’ve ever met. You made me better.”
He stopped directly in front of me — close enough that if I reached out, I could feel the warmth radiating off him.
“So yeah,” he said, breathless, hopeful, and maybe a little terrified. “I’m in love with you.”
The room tilted, and I wasn’t sure if it was the lights or the applause starting up somewhere in the background.
I didn’t wait. I just grabbed him by the collar of his stupid wrinkled suit and kissed him.
Right there, in front of everyone.
Phones flashed like fireworks. Someone wolf-whistled. One of the chaperone teachers dramatically fanned herself with a plastic tiara.
Half the room cheered. The other half swooned like Victorian fainting goats, and I didn’t care about any of it.
Because kissing Jaxon felt like the world had finally, finally, tilted the right way.
The DJ, bless him, recovered fast, fading the song into something slow and twinkly, like a soundtrack playing just for us.
Jaxon pulled back just enough to press his forehead against mine, laughing under his breath like he couldn’t believe this was real either.
“Dance with me,” he murmured.
“Obviously,” I whispered back, grinning so hard my face hurt.
We moved like the room didn’t exist, like it had been emptied out just for us.
My arms looped around his neck. His hands settled on my waist like they belonged there.
We swayed, slow and easy, and for once, I didn’t feel like I was performing. I didn’t feel like I had to be anyone but exactly who I was, messy, reckless, maybe still figuring it out, but real.
“I think we just became legends,” I said against his ear.
He laughed, that low, crooked thing that always made my knees go a little weak.
“Better than valedictorian,” he said.
I pulled back just enough to arch an eyebrow. “I don’t know. Might still aim for both.”
“Overachiever.”
“Troublemaker.”
He spun me once, clumsy but perfect, and I laughed so loudly people turned to look. Not with judgment this time. Just curiosity.
We kept dancing, the floor slowly filling up around us again as other couples rejoined, the buzz of prom resuming its regular chaotic heartbeat.
For the first time in forever, it actually felt like home.
And just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, the DJ grabbed the mic.
“All right, all right!” he said, voice booming over the speakers. “Time for prom court results!”
I groaned, dropping my head onto Jaxon’s chest.
“We’re definitely not—” I started.
But the DJ was already reading the card.
“Prom Queen and King for the Class of 2025… Zoe Torres and Jaxon Reed!”
