Noah went completely still.
The chant was still going. It blurred into a dull roar in my ears.
I pulled my hand out of his.
“Tell me what?”
Noah looked at me. And for the first time that whole night, he looked more afraid of me than of the crowd.
“I was going to tell you after,” he said.
“After what?”
He took a breath.
“I entered us for Prom Court.”
The chant faded to nothing in my head. Like somebody turned the volume all the way down.
“You put our names in?” I said. “Together? Without asking me?”
His eyes dropped to the floor.
“I thought it would be good.”
“Good for who, Noah?”
He looked back up at me.
“For you. For us. I thought…”
“Noah.”
“I thought you deserved to be on that ballot,” he said. “Like everybody else. Like every other couple in this school. I didn’t think you’d win. I just wanted your name up there. On the list. With everybody else’s.”
I shook my head.
“And I deserved to know,” I said, “before I became part of your plan.”
My voice was shaking.
“You don’t get to decide when I’m brave, Noah.”
His face crumpled. Just a little.
“It was my name,” I said.
He went quiet. He didn’t argue. He didn’t make excuses.
He just stood there and took it.
Then Chad stepped closer. His smile was back.
“Wait,” he said. “Hold on. You two are actually on the Prom Court ballot? For real?”
Nathan laughed under his breath. “Oh, that’s rough.”
Noah spun toward them. “Back off.”
I put my hand on his arm.
“No,” I said.
He looked at me.
I let go of his arm. I stepped forward. And I faced Chad and Nathan myself.
My voice was shaking. But I didn’t let it disappear.
“You’ve been waiting all night for me to feel stupid,” I said. “Congratulations, Chad. I do. I feel stupid.”
The circle went quiet.
The chant stopped.
“But I’d still rather be me, in this dress,” I said, “than be you. Standing in the middle of a room. Begging everybody to laugh with you.”
That’s when the speakers crackled.
And the music cut out.
Specialty: Quiet Comebacks & Personal Justice
David Reynolds focuses on stories where underestimated individuals regain control of their lives. His writing centers on measured decisions rather than dramatic outbursts — emphasizing preparation, patience, and the long game. His characters don’t shout; they act.