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“Hey Jaron,” Stephanie says back. “Are you lost? The jock table is over there.” She points across the cafeteria.
Jaron laughs. “No, I’m actually here to see my girl, Emma.”
Instant heat in my cheeks. Is this what hot flashes feel like?
“Here, Emma.”
Jaron sets a ten-piece box of chicken nuggets on the table in front of me.
My mouth can’t form a response. Is this a joke? A prank? What am I supposed to do with this?
Then I glance at Stephanie.
Jaron chuckles. “Alright, I get it, you can open it up and give me your answer later. Just think it over and shoot me a text, k?” Jaron stands. Then he picks up my hand and kisses it. His lips are warm and send a tingle down my spine.
My gaze follows Jaron back to his table, where he sits again amongst several other varsity players. His friends don’t appear to be laughing. He notices me watching him and he winks. I quickly turn back around and look at Stephanie. My mouth opens and then closes again. “What just happened?”
“No idea,” Stephanie says. “Only one way to find out. Open it.”
I lift the box of nuggets slowly, half expecting something to jump out at me. Nothing does. The nuggets look completely normal. And they’re still warm. Under the lid written in pen are the words:
I’d be one lucky nugget if you’d go to prom with me
I can’t even believe it. Is this for real? Did a hot baseball player really just ask me to the dance?
Then a thought pops into my head.
“Stephanie, you didn’t?”
“I didn’t talk to your dad, I swear.” She looks just as stunned as I feel.
“So..?” she asks.
“So, what?”
“Are you actually going to go with him? He’s totally a jock pop!” she says in disgust. “That’s like the worst kind!”
“I have no idea,” I say. “I think I need to have a conversation with my dad first.”
I get to my feet and cross the cafeteria quickly, making sure I don’t make eye contact with anyone. Especially a tall, handsome Indian boy.
On my way to Dad’s office, Austin stops me in the hall. “Hey, Emma, congrats on the prom queen nomination,” he says. He pushes some of his shaggy brown hair out of his face.
“Thanks,” I say. I glance at him and smile.
“I didn’t think you were really into dances and prom and stuff.”
“I’m not,” I say, shrugging. “I didn’t nominate myself. I’m pretty sure it had to do with my parents and their evil plot to turn me into a socialite.”
Austin smiles.
“Hey, you got your braces off,” I say. “Looks good.”
His smile widens. He really does look handsome. I’ve known Austin most of my life, he lives down the street from us. He’s one of the only boys I can actually talk to without blushing or getting tongue-tied. But something about him hits different today.
“If you need a date for prom, you could always ask me to take you. You know that, right?”
I shrug. “I guess.”
