CHAPTER TEN #9
This is literally the first time a guy has asked me out—ever—so forgive me for being clueless. My mind is running a thousand miles per hour: Do I say no right away? But that's mean. Do I stall? But then it's cruel. Do I fake a medical emergency?
Thankfully, I don't have to decide.
Because just then, Zach skates toward us, his drill-sergeant scowl swapped for his usual grin. I don't even notice until now that he's already dismissed the team. The rink is basically empty—except him, Jacob, and me.
"Hey, Sugarplum." His voice is warm, familiar. "Did you wait long? Sorry practice ran over."
I shake my head, trying to act normal when my heart is doing full Olympic gymnastics. "No, not long. Jacob kept me company, so it's fine."
Zach's smile twitches. Not the good kind. He looks straight at Jacob, still standing there. "What are you still doing here, Hewitt? Practice ended twenty minutes ago for you."
Jacob just shrugs, casual. "Was about to leave, but I saw Caroline. And, well... you were busy."
Zach scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. "Uh-huh." Then he turns to me. "Was he harassing you?"
My head shakes so fast I'm surprised it doesn't fall off.
Jacob laughs, holding up his stick like a peace flag. "I'd never harass Caroline, Z. Actually, I asked her to prom. I was waiting for her answer... until you showed up." His grin falters just a little on that last line, disappointment sneaking through.
Zach's face freezes, then hardens. His brows pull together, his eyes narrowing into a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You what?"
"I asked her to prom." Jacob's tone is still even, but his shoulders stiffen. "Is there a problem with that?"
"Oh, there's a problem," Zach fires back. He doesn't even blink. Arms crossed tighter, jaw clenched.
"Really?" Jacob challenges.
"Really," Zach says flatly. His voice leaves no room for argument, no cracks for air to slip through. "Because she and I are going to prom together."
My mouth drops. "We are?"
The words come out breathless, half-shocked, half-ecstatic, and 100% unhideable. Jacob definitely hears it, but I don't care. Because oh my GOD. Zach Westbrook just announced—in front of witnesses—that we are going to prom together.
Like it's settled. Like it's fact. Like over my dead body would I ever say no.
My heart ricochets against my ribs. My brain is fried eggs on a hot skillet. And every cell in my body is screaming the same thing: try not to faint, Caroline, try not to faint.
"We… are?" I ask him again.
Zach doesn't even hesitate. "Of course we are. Who else would I go with?" His eyes flick to me, like it should've been obvious. Like I'd just asked if water was wet. Then he cocks his head, voice dipping low. "Why? You planning on going with someone else?"
My entire body jolts. "No! No, no, nope." I spring up from the bleacher, waving both hands so fast I look like a malfunctioning windmill. "I just... thought maybe you'd want to ask somebody else."
He throws me a look—pointed, sharp, almost offended. Like I'd just said something completely insane. The idea of him going with anyone else?
Totally unfathomable in Zach Westbrook's brain, apparently.
Then he repeats it, firmer this time, his gaze sliding back to Jacob like a challenge. "We're going together. End of story."
Jacob's brows lift. He raises both hands in surrender, his stick dangling loosely from his grip. "Got it. No argument here."
He glances back at me with a little smile before skating off. "See you in class, Caroline."
But I barely hear him.
Because my brain is short-circuiting.
Like, sparks-flying, wires-smoking, full system meltdown.
We're going together. End of story.
Those words keep replaying in my head on a loop, like my brain just hit repeat on the world's most dangerous song.
My stomach is doing cartwheels, my chest feels like it's stuffed with helium balloons, and my poor heart? It's running a marathon with zero water breaks.
And the worst/best part? Zach is just standing there like he didn't just casually declare to the universe that I'm his prom date. Like he didn't just take my biggest fantasy and say it out loud.
Meanwhile, I'm over here two seconds away from either combusting or fainting. Probably both.
I risk a glance at him. He's already looking at me.
And then he smiles—wide, bright, easy. The kind of smile that should be illegal. The kind that reaches his stupidly gorgeous silver eyes and knocks the air right out of my lungs.
Before I can stop myself, I'm smiling back. Huge. So wide my cheeks ache.
For a second, it's just us. The empty rink, the echoes fading, everything else gone. Just two idiots grinning at each other like there's nowhere else we'd rather be.
And maybe... there isn't.
CHAPTER FIVE
CAROLINE
It's the day before prom, and I swear my body is running on pure glitter and adrenaline.
I can barely contain myself. Actually—scratch that—I haven't been able to contain myself since Zach asked me to prom.
Okay, fine, technically he didn't ask—he just declared it like a royal decree.
But does that even matter? Nope. Because my dream came true either way.
And now here we are. Prom. Tomorrow. One of the biggest items on my Zach-and-I-are-destined-to-be-together checklist about to get ticked off. I've been waiting for this moment since forever, and the fact that it's less than 24 hours away? Unreal.
Honestly, the last four months feel like I've been stuck inside a bubble—floating higher and higher, like some helium balloon people forgot to tie down. And now it's finally carrying me exactly where I wanted to go. Prom night. With the man of my dreams.
And trust me, I've been preparing like a madwoman.
The dress? Perfect. Not just because it's sparkly, pink, and custom-made to fit every curve without suffocating me—but because it's straight out of a fairy tale.
Literally.
The prom committee went with an Enchanted Fairytale theme this year, which at first I thought was super weird. Like, what are we—kids at Disney on Ice?
But then I realized...hello, perfect excuse to finally live out my lifelong fantasy. I get to be her. The Sugarplum Princess. My forever dream role.
And the best part?
Zach didn't even hesitate when I told him my plan. He just grinned and said, "Then I guess I'll be your Nutcracker," like it was the easiest decision in the world.
No complaints. No eye-rolls. Just him being completely on board with my delusional cosplay fantasy, because of course he was. That boy would probably wear a tutu if I asked nicely enough.
Finding the outfit though? Total nightmare. Turns out nobody mass-produces Sugarplum Princess dresses for girls who aren't a size two. Shocker.
So Mom swooped in, pulled her superhero-mom card, and had one custom-made for me. It came just in time, and when I put it on—it was like magic. Like I was Clara stepping right into The Nutcracker.
The shoes? Crystal-like heels that could double as medieval torture devices, but whatever. Worth it.
The only thing I didn't think of right away? The necklace. The Sugarplum Princess had that iconic gold heart pendant, and of course I only remembered it a few days ago. Too late to find one in any store. I could've ordered it online, but yeah—no way it would've shipped in time.
Sigh. Tragic. But I guess it's fine.
The last few weeks have been nothing but fittings, hair trials, and me staring at myself in the mirror trying to imagine the big reveal. And now that everything's finally ready, you'd think I'd relax.
Spoiler: I have not.
I keep double-checking everything. The dress, the shoes, the tiara, the earrings—again and again like I've developed some kind of pre-prom OCD. I've officially lost it.
But can you blame me? Tomorrow needs to be perfect.
Because tomorrow, I'll be stepping into prom not as Caroline the nerdy, fat, invisible best friend. Nope.
Tomorrow, I get to be a princess. Zach's princess.
"Caroline, honey," Mom's voice cuts through as she peeks into my room. Of course she catches me standing in front of the mirror again, holding my dress on its hanger up against myself like I'm some deranged mannequin.
"I wasn't doing anything."
Mom smirks, leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed. "Uh-huh. Totally normal to check if your dress has magically changed since the last ten times you looked at it today."
I roll my eyes, cheeks heating. "It's called preparation, Mom. Ever heard of it?"
She laughs, shaking her head. "You're worse than a bride."
"Prom is basically my wedding," I mutter.
"Did I hear that right?" she teases, raising her brows.
"Mom!" I squeak, hugging the hanger like it's some big secret I need to protect.
"Did I just hear someone mention a wedding?" His deep voice rumbles from the doorway.
I whip around, mortified. "Dad!"
His eyes fall on the dress in my hands, and suddenly his face softens into that look—that look—the one that always makes me feel like I'm still his little girl in pigtails. His smile tugs warm and proud.
"You're gonna be the most beautiful girl in the world tomorrow," he says simply.
I blink at him, my lips pushing into an automatic pout. "Only tomorrow?"
He chuckles, stepping farther in. "You're beautiful every day, sweetheart. Tomorrow's just... bonus points."
Mom slips up beside him, looping her arm through his like it's second nature. They look so disgustingly in love it makes me want to gag and swoon at the same time.
Then Dad's smile shifts into something darker. "But Zach better be on his best behavior tomorrow night. If he even thinks about trying anything inappropriate, I'll personally drag his—"
"Daddy!" My face ignites. "Stop it! He doesn't even see me that way."
Lie. Total lie. Wishful-thinking, please-prove-me-wrong kind of lie.
Dad huffs like I've just said the dumbest thing in the history of dumb things. "Not yet."
My head jerks up. "What?"