The Prom Queen's Date

Chapter Seven

It was the next day, and people knew about the 'milk incident'. Maybe it was worse that there was no photographic evidence anymore because people came up with their own theories and exaggerations on how bad the 'explosion' was.

Gerald played into the hype, going into detail on how it all went down. When people turned to me to confirm later on, well I made jokes about it.

It really wasn't a big deal. Except for the fact that my tits were briefly out for the world to see and Sabrina smashed two phones into smithereens.

But the rumour mill was low on material. There was no hot gossip except for milk girl.

I sat in the back row of our English Lit class and told myself that because we were about to start a new unit, I could be organized with my highlighters and binders. This time, I'd keep up with the reading. A fresh start. Who was I kidding? I had all winter break to do the advanced reading. It wasn't even glanced at or thought about once.

"Hi, Sam," Maisie said, standing in front of my table, clutching her bag to her stomach. "Can I sit here?"

"Yeah, sure, if you want," I said, keenly aware of yesterday's conversation and the fact she sprinted out of the canteen as a result.

She seemed like a nice girl. Really, the only thing I knew about her was the fact she threw coming out parties with her friends. Other than that, she was mostly a stranger. A cute stranger with a studded nose piercing and bright pink hair.

"Everyone's talking about you and Sabrina today," she said while taking out her essentials for the class.

"Yeah? What kind of things are they saying?" I asked.

Her cheeks began to match her hair as she laughed awkwardly. "You know what sort of things."

I opened my notebook and doodled in the corner of the page. "It's probably not true. Other than the fact she gave me a coat and steamrolled those boys? Everything else is rumours, probably."

"Probably," she repeated. "I never saw you as the type to care about things like proms."

Thank God. Talking about Sabrina with her seemed wrong. "I'm full of surprises."

"I noticed," she said, pushing her hair back. "So, you're going to it then?" She raised an eyebrow, a wiggle of it soon followed and it funny because she didn't seem like the type to like things like proms either.

"More than likely," I said. "Have to see the night in action, I guess if I'm going to be spending so much time making it awesome."

"Interesting," she said.

"Oh?"

"I probably shouldn't be asking this after yesterday's. . . embarrassment. My embarrassment. Not yours. Not that you were embarrassed yesterday by the milk incident . . . Wow. I brought that up. That's embarrassing. Again. For me. Not you. Anyway. Date? Will you go on a date with me? That was hard to say."

And I thought that I was a nervous wreck, but she was cute. On the outside, with her appearance and the way she embraced her style and sexuality so openly, it led me to assume she was this confident girl. Maybe she was normally when she wasn't asking girls out on dates.

Her fumbling set me at ease. It wasn't until she started rambling that my shoulders relaxed. They'd been stiff since she asked if she could sit beside me, apparently.

"Let me get this straight," I said, making her snort which in turn made me laugh.

"Please don't," she joked.

"You hear me spilling milk on myself, and that made you want to ask me on a date?"

"I shouldn't have mentioned the milk," she muttered.