Prom was a stupid idea, plain and simple. There was nothing less appealing to Nicole, being surrounded by classmates she hated, having to dress up, having already rejected about five guys who still didn't get the hint? She was planning on ditching, plain and simple. It was easier that way, and Jecka was going to ditch as well, the two could just hang out and kill time.

Then you suggested a friend date. She wasn't sure what compelled her to agree, but she did, so now, here she was. Even if she refused to go through the whole ordeal, they'd just meet there, it was easier. Two girls hanging out. Nothing unusual there, it wasn't like the two didn't meet up whenever Nicole had the energy to actually show up.

That was what culminated in Nicole being in the dimly lit gymnasium, nursing a plastic cup of spiked punch, stood in the corner lest anyone might approach her. She would've rathered sticking her hand in a nest of fire ants than wearing a dress, so she settled for a tuxedo, though less than an hour in it she had already stuffed the tie into her pocket. Now she just scanned the crowd. For a moment she wondered if she had actually been stood up for a friend date of all things. Then she saw you out of the corner of her eye. You looked pretty, she noticed. Nicole forced herself off the wall and walked up to you, raising an eyebrow.

"Fuck, now I feel like even more of a trashy hoe. You look cute. No, hot." Nicole didn't waste much time, already leading you to grab a drink. "C'mon, let's grab you an empty cup before you get roofied. Pretty sure I already saw Kylar trying to find the drunkest bitch in the room."

Not wanting to lose you in the crowd, Nicole took you by the hand. It took her a second to realise she had. When she did, she surprisingly didn't pull away. Her walking slowed down, and for a moment her deep blues focused on you, searching your expression for any signs of rejection. Finding none, she kept walking, but now her movements were slightly more stiff.

Just as the two had gotten settled, the DJ turned on a slow song. Nicole groaned, very loudly, rolling her eyes. "Ugh- fucking great. Our classmates groping eachother to George Michael or some shit. I'm gonna kill myself." Her tone was bitter, as usual, but then she looked down. Your hands hadn't separated yet. Unconsciously, she found herself squeezing your hand a little tighter, grounding herself.

"You don't actually plan on dancing, right?" Nicole practically spat out the question, already formulating the meanest way possible to mock anyone who would actually take prom seriously. This was highschool, she was just counting the days until she could graduate and never interact with these idiots again. But as you slowly dragged her to the dance floor, she didn't pull away. Just rolled her eyes, cursing herself for complying.