54

Her dad just shook my hand and told me to "drive safe."

Her mom made me take 23 photos beside the limo.

Bear and Auggie drew a heart on the back of my shoe with permanent marker.

Senna's still inside, finishing up her hair.

I'm pacing.

And thinking.

Thinking about all the moments before this one - all the ways I fell in love with her before either of us had the courage to say the words.

The Stairwell

She didn't speak to me the first day.

Just sat there under the stairs, eating mango slices like they were some kind of shield.

I didn't want to scare her away, so I didn't say much either.

Just handed her a napkin and said,

"No pressure. Just mango."

She didn't smile. But she came back the next day.

And the next.

And I came back, too.

The Shaking

She sat next to me one Thursday.

Her leg was bouncing - fast, nervous. Like something inside her couldn't stay still.

I started copying her rhythm. Just to see if she'd notice.

She paused. Looked at me.

"You mocking me?"

"Nah," I said. "We're in a band now. You're lead percussion."

And that was the first time I made her smile.

It wrecked me a little.

The Playlist

She didn't explain.

Just sent me a playlist titled: Therapy Session.

I listened to every song.

Four times.

I cried during track four.

I listened to track seven while drawing her hands.

I fell asleep to the last one and dreamed about her for the first time.

The Day I Met Her Brothers

She said, "They're chaos, be warned."

She wasn't lying.

Auggie climbed me like a jungle gym. Bear asked if I had money.

They started calling me Stairboy before I even sat down.

But when I looked up, Senna was watching us. Watching me.

And for the first time, she looked... safe.

I knew, in that moment, I'd do anything to protect that look on her face.

The Field Trip

She was missing.

Her name wasn't on the room list. Nobody cared.

When I found her, she was alone. Hair messed up. Clothes wet. Something rotten on her skin. Eyes like broken glass.

I said her name and she flinched like it hurt.

I held her anyway.

"You don't have to talk," I whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere."

I meant it.

The Hospital

She hadn't eaten in days.

She fainted.

When she woke up, I was already in the chair beside her, hoodie on, eyes burning.

"You matter," I said.

"Too much, maybe. But you do."

She cried without hiding it.

I didn't try to stop her.

The First Time She Said "I Love You"

It was soft. Like she didn't mean for it to come out.

She froze right after.

I didn't say it back.

I just held her hand, pulled her into my chest, and stayed there for a long time.

I think she thought it meant I didn't feel it.

But the truth is -

I was scared I loved her too much.

The Sketchbook

She found it by accident.

Every page was her.

Her smile. Her sad days. Her stupid cute leg shake.

Her holding her brothers. Her falling asleep under my hoodie.

"You see me," she whispered.

The Second "I Love You"

She was stealing my fries.

Laughing at some dumb joke I made.

Not wearing makeup. Hair a mess.

And I just blurted it out:

"I love you."

Her eyes widened.

She didn't say it back.

She didn't have to.

Now I'm standing outside her house again, waiting for her to walk out.

And I'm not scared anymore.

Because I know what this is.

This isn't just prom.

This is everything we survived to get here.

Everything we didn't say when it was too hard.

Everything we said with silence, with music, with mango, with drawings, with just being there.

This is the after.

And I'm in love with the girl who lived through the before.

---------------------------------------------------------------

The limo hums to a stop outside Weston Hall.

And the whispers begin before the engine shuts off.

Kids waiting outside in rented Teslas and their parents' outdated Range Rovers start craning their necks, trying to see who's pulling up in the jet-black town car with actual gold trim.

My dad doesn't do subtle.

Neither does this moment.

The driver steps out first, wearing a spotless black suit, polished shoes, and white gloves.

He walks to our door, nods once, and pulls it open like we're royalty.

And there she is.

Senna.

Sitting across from me in her champagne-gold dress, glowing like a whole new universe just unfolded around her.

"You ready?" I ask, breath catching in my throat.

She lifts one brow, smirking.

"Born ready, Stairboy."

I offer her my hand.

She takes it.

We step out together - and time stops.

Phones rise.

Whispers explode.

Someone literally says, "Who the hell is that?"

And I swear I hear a girl mutter, "That can't be the stair girl."

But it is.

It's the same girl who ate mango slices in silence under the staircase.

The same girl who once refused to be seen.

The same girl they ignored.

And now?

She's the moment.

The camera flashes pop like fireworks.

Senna doesn't flinch.

Her back is straight. Chin lifted. Smile soft but untouchable.

She's holding my arm, but she's walking like she owns the place.

Because tonight?

She does.

The doors swing open ahead of us.

The ballroom is blinding - chandeliers, velvet, glitter, gold. Loud music and louder laughter.

But as soon as we walk in, it all quiets.

Not totally.

Just enough.

Just long enough for every single person to realize something they weren't prepared to admit:

Senna is not invisible.

She never was.

And now, she's unforgettable.

One of the jocks - I think Jeremy - nudges his date and says something low. I catch the word "scholarship."

I meet his eyes. Just once.

He looks away.

Good choice.

"Still breathing?" Senna teases under her breath.

"Barely."

"You look like you're about to pass out."

"You look like you stepped out of a dream I didn't deserve to have."

She blushes.

Actually blushes.

And just like that - I win prom. Before it even starts.

We make our way to the center of the room, slow, deliberate.

The DJ says something dumb over the mic, but I barely hear it.

All I see is her.

And if the staircase was where I met her...

Then this ballroom?

This is where the world finally meets her too.