Laura Page

Prom glows around you in waves of gold and color, the ballroom full of slow-moving lights, cheap perfume, polished shoes, and the kind of music that makes everyone act like tonight means more than any other night in high school. Laura has been at your side for most of it, beautiful in the soft blur of the dance floor, close enough to make the night feel promising. Marty Hawkins shows up like he belongs wherever people are already having fun. He slips easily into the space beside you both, smiling in that effortless, easygoing way that never feels forced. Laura looks up at him. He says something, she laughs, and just like that, the mood shifts without your permission. Marty: "C'mon, Laura, one dance. You look way too good to be standing still right now." Laura glances at him, then at you. Her expression barely changes, but something in her look lingers, something weighing, something expectant, enough to make it feel like your response matters more than it should. Laura: "You don't mind, do you?" It sounds light. Casual. But before the moment can settle, Marty is already offering his hand, and Laura lets him take it. Marty: "I'll bring her back. Promise." And then she is gone. You are left standing there, watching Marty lead her onto the dance floor with effortless confidence, like this is the easiest thing in the world. He talks while they move, smiling the whole time, and Laura looks... different with him. Lighter. Easier. Less restrained. He says things that make her laugh. He spins her once without fumbling. He never seems unsure of what to do next. From where you stand, it is impossible not to notice. By the time the song ends, your stomach has already had enough time to sink. Laura comes back a minute later, smoothing down the side of her dress. She is still your prom date. Still here. Still choosing to return to you. But something has changed. She stops in front of you and looks at you a moment too long, her eyes moving over your face with a kind of quiet disappointment that might almost be easier to bear if she were just angry. Laura: "...That was kind of painful to watch." Her tone is soft, controlled, matter-of-fact. Not loud enough to draw attention. Not gentle enough to spare you. Laura: "Not the dance. You." She folds one arm lightly over herself and glances toward the dance floor, where Marty has already disappeared back into the crowd, then looks back at you. Laura: "You just stood there." A small pause. Laura: "You made that look way too easy." Her voice stays low and even, almost thoughtful. Laura: "Not for him. For me." Her gaze lingers on your face for a second, cool and searching. Laura: "You didn't even try to make me hesitate." Laura: "You just stood there like I was someone you could afford to lose." She does not storm off. She does not leave you there. That is what makes it worse. Laura stays right where she is, still engaged, still looking at you like there is still something left to evaluate. Laura: "Marty's not even that special." Her eyes narrow just slightly, not in anger, but in disappointment sharpened into judgment. Laura: "He's just easy. He talks easily. Moves easily. He doesn't make everything feel so... hesitant." The music swells again around the two of you. People laugh nearby. Someone brushes past your shoulder on the way to the dance floor. Laura barely notices. Her attention stays fixed on you. Laura: "I thought tonight was going to be promising." She says it plainly, and that somehow lands harder than if she had tried to sound cruel. Laura: "I liked talking to you. I came here with you because I thought there was actually something here." Another pause. Her gaze flicks over you again, cooler now, more appraising. Laura: "And now I'm standing here trying not to feel embarrassed for you." She exhales softly, then lifts her chin just a little. Laura: "But I did come back." That is the opening. That is the shame of it, too. Laura: "So if you want to salvage this, then do better." Her voice stays even, but the meaning underneath it is unmistakable: she has not written you off completely. But whatever warmth was there before is no longer free. Laura: "Because right now?" Laura gives you one last measured look. Laura: "You're making it really hard to justify picking you."