Saturday - October 28, 2017 - 8:34 p.m.

Every head in the gymnasium shifted to the girl walking onto the stage, like vultures spotting their prey. She held in her hand a blue envelope with silver edges and a sparkling seal. The blaring beat of Hotline Bling died down as the noisy chatter slowly faded into whispers of excitement.

I took a deep breath as my heart began to race. I'd waited three years for this moment, and it was finally here.

The girl on stage carefully lifted the flap and withdrew a small strip of paper. She took a quick glance, smiled, and leaned into the microphone.

"Brandon Beckett and Cassie Angeles."

The crowd erupted into a resounding applause that included raucous hoots and hollers from the guys coupled with ear-splitting cries of excitement from the girls.

I turned to Cassie, ecstasy pulsing through my body as I saw the broad smile beaming across her face. I threw my arms around her, lifting her from her feet in an exhilarating swirl. No more than a couple of seconds later, we were being frantically ushered to the stage by those around us. How this modest gymnasium was able to contain the entire senior class was suddenly beyond me as we shoved our way through the thick traffic of bodies. Once we had finally escaped the masses, we ascended the small flight of stairs and stepped out onto the stage, the bright lights blinding me as I turned to face the sea of people before me.

It seemed like hours had passed before either of us spoke. I opened my mouth tentatively, suddenly realizing that, despite years of anticipation, I was grossly unprepared for this moment. I shifted my gaze to Cassie, who appeared equally as dumbstruck.

Finally, I took a deep breath and leaned into the microphone. "Sorry, I must've left the speech in my other tux."

The crowd broke out into an uproarious laughter that reverberated around the room. I could hear Cassie giggling softly beside me.

"I'd like to thank everyone who voted for us. Really, this is such an honor, you guys. In all our time here at Chamberlain High, I don't think either of us thought we'd be standing up here tonight."

Of course, nothing could've been further from the truth.

Nobody at Chamberlain High could've denied with a shred of confidence that I—captain of the football team and the heartthrob of Chamberlain High—would be awarded this prestigious title. Similarly, anyone who hadn't been living under a rock the past three years could have indisputably claimed that Cassie—head cheerleader, arguably the most beautiful girl in the state of Missouri, my partner in crime—would be standing right by my side.

In fact, the Homecoming election, which had been all the rage since the beginning of the semester, had seemed more like a formality that an actual competition. Derek Boyd and Beth Sommers had been the worthiest contenders by far, but the two had earned themselves some bad publicity following a nasty cafeteria fight a week prior, after Beth supposedly saw Derek on Haley Davis's Snapchat story.

Monica Saville and James Buchan hadn't stood a chance. Monica's dad was on the city council and had played a significant role in the recent implementation of a new city-wide curfew of ten p.m. for all minors, much to the dismay of her fellow student body.

Lastly, there was Stan Farkle and Bernadette Mills, filler candidates who had secured their nomination by an extremely narrow margin. Stan was the founder and president of Chamberlain High's Calculus and Trigonometry Club, and Bernadette was the head of the local chapter of the American Physics Association. The main theory behind their nomination was that they had pooled their efforts to bribe students for votes in exchange for completed lab reports or pro bono tutoring sessions. They now stood sulking in the far corner of the gym, their efforts having proved futile.

A second girl suddenly emerged from the left wing of the stage carrying two crimson sashes stitched with golden letters reading King and Queen, respectively. As she draped them over our shoulders, two more girls appeared to our right, each of them holding a plump, white pillow. On the first one sat a bejeweled crown, on the other a glistening, silver tiara. As we donned our new headwear, I couldn't help but turn to my right and stare unblinkingly into Cassie's blazing, auburn eyes.

It seemed like just yesterday I was sitting in homeroom on my intimidating yet exhilarating first day of middle school, when I laid eyes on her for the first time. From this initial glance on, the image of her face floated permanently in my head, and despite my constant attempts to extinguish it from my mind, it remained locked in place. Every day of my sixth-grade existence was spent thinking of her, yearning for some twist of fate that would present an opportunity for interaction. Occasionally, if I was lucky enough, she'd make a special appearance in my dreams, and I'd indulge in a real conversation with her—as real as possible without having to muster up the courage to approach her in person. The truly frightening part of it all was that I began looking forward to school, infatuated with the prospect of seeing her once again. Her presence was an alluring force that seized every ounce of my attention, refusing to let up for even a second.

Granted, I wasn't the same Brandon Beckett back then as I was today. This was before my stubborn acne had cleared up, before I had landed a spot on the football team, before I had become a household name around Chamberlain High. For the longest time, I had felt hopelessly trapped in the excruciatingly awkward abyss of prepubescence—the one in which I gladly chose an xBox and a bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos over a girl any Friday night. I pretty much avoided the female species altogether, my weekends having been dedicated to Skyrim, occasional Mountain Dew runs to the gas station, and ruthless competitions with my friends to see who could go the longest without showering.

One day, in an otherwise tedious period of Earth Science, my life changed forever. I was fixed in my usual mindless stare from across the room as Mrs. Thompson droned on about the significance of radiometric dating. By some stroke of serendipity, Cassie's head shifted slightly, and her electrifying eyes found mine. I quickly averted my gaze, expecting her to follow suit. A few seconds later, as I scored another subtle glance in her direction, I found that her eyes hadn't moved a millimeter, and my heart began racing as I witnessed the tender smile surfacing across her face.

The elated adrenaline rush only intensified later that night, as I logged onto FaceBook and clicked the bright red notification bubble hovering over my inbox.

New Friend Request from Cassie Angelis.

She was just as captivating on screen as she was in the flesh, no bright filters or heavy makeup, nothing to distort her natural beauty.

She knew my name, I'd suddenly realized, paralyzed in disbelief. She'd known my name all this time—how else would she have found my profile?

I hit Accept with lightning speed, eagerly awaiting the next stage of our correspondence, praying there'd be a next stage at all. There had to be, I'd reassured myself confidently. A FaceBook friend request was the middle-school equivalent of a carrier pigeon perched on the window ledge with a love letter clasped tightly in its beak.

Then the unnerving realization hit me. She'd made the first move—the ball was in my court now.

I prepared to shoot her a message, my fingers shaking as I rested them on the keyboard, but the stubborn words wouldn't come. My mind was still struggling to acknowledge the fact that she was aware of my existence. After drafting, and subsequently pitching, around twenty messages, I decided to take a different route, challenging her to a match of Words With Friends that ended up lasting well into the early morning hours. After getting my ass handed to me ten consecutive rounds, I deeply regretted not opting for a simple Hey!

Thus began the friendship I'd fantasized about for months. It began with the customary phases, eating lunch together and tagging each other in relatable memes, and gradually progressed into the advanced stage of hanging out outside of school. In the summer before eighth grade, we reached the pinnacle of platonic, thirteen-year-old boy-girl relationships: late-night philosophical conversations I'd replay in my mind for weeks on end. Before we knew it, our circles of friends were merging, and everyone was better off.

The thing I loved most about Cassie is that I never felt the need to put on a facade just to keep her around me. I could always be myself with her, which struck me as strange given the relatively short time she'd been in my life. Still, every last trait of hers—her personality, her beliefs, her occasionally off-color humor—was a mirror image of my own. In the aesthetics department, she was clearly out of my league, but that never seemed to drive her away. That's how I knew she was the real deal. She had taken an interest in me long before my popularity had soared to its current peak. She had known nothing of my future athleticism, the chiseled post-pubescent body I'd soon develop, or that, in a few short years, we would be the two most popular kids at Chamberlain High.

But, more than anything, she was my rock. She had been there for me when I didn't make the football team freshman year. She had visited me in the hospital every day for two weeks as I recovered from a near-fatal concussion incurred during a state championship game. She had comforted me after my dad lost his battle with Leukemia, pulled me from a dark depression into which I was slipping deeper and deeper by the day.

As I stood here now, staring into her eyes, I still couldn't fathom what I'd done to deserve someone like her in my life, or how lucky I was to call her mine.

After finishing our half-assed acceptance speech, the two of us made our way down from the stage and became engulfed once again into the whirlpool of chaos. We pushed our way through the crowd, trying to find so much as a foot of empty space on the dance floor, when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"About fucking time! Congratulations!"

I whipped around to find my best friend, Axel Anderson, pushing his way through the dense crowd towards us.

Elegance had never been Axel's strong suit, and it was odd seeing him in his immaculate white tux and shimmering black tie. A silver, diamond-accented watch glistened around his wrist, a recent birthday present from his parents, two of Chamberlain's most affluent residents. Despite his formal attire, many of his signature features remained, such as his messy jet-black hair, which he apparently hadn't bothered to comb before arriving, and his striking blue eyes that that tied together his overall charm. He cast us his usual charismatic smile, revealing a mouth of pearly-white teeth.

"Hey, Axel," I said as he approached us. "Thanks, man. It means a lot."

"Wasn't a doubt in my mind it'd be you two," he said, shoving a handful of fried shrimp into his mouth. "So, how does it feel to be the crowned heads of Chamberlain High?"

"Claustrophobic," Cassie muttered as a group of girls shoved their way past, forcing the three of us to huddle closer together.

"I hear you," Axel said, using the tip of his tie to wipe the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Let's get out of here. I really need some air."

The three of us maneuvered our way to the gymnasium exit and stepped into the dark hallway, our shadows trailing along the moonlit lockers as we walked by. It was an eerie feeling to be walking these halls on a Saturday night, and I could already feel the gloom of the upcoming week infiltrating me.

A feeling of relief washed over me as I stepped into the cool night air, which was at least thirty degrees cooler than that of the muggy, overpopulated gym. I unbuttoned the top half of my shirt and loosened my rigid tie that had been choking me since the moment I put it on. We strolled around back and across the parking lot, faint voices emanating in the distance. I could soon make out three familiar figures standing in front of the tall gates guarding football field.

Olivia Williams, Axel's girlfriend, was examining herself meticulously in her signature rhinestone compact mirror. The two others, Sam Gaines and Hazel Bryne, were leaning against the fence, locked in a passionate embrace. A lack of privacy never seemed to deter them from expressing their devotion to each other.

"Oh my God!" Hazel screamed, abruptly pushing Sam aside as her eyes fell on our sashes. She bolted towards Cassie, yanking her into a bear hug as she emitted a series of excited shrieks. "I can't believe you guys won!"

"Oh, please," Olivia said, withdrawing a small black tube from her purse and coating her lips in a fresh layer of crimson. "Don't act like they weren't a shoo-in for King and Queen. I mean, did you see their competition?"

"Yeah. That's a real bummer for Stan," Sam said, chuckling. "Looks like he wrote my essay on numerical differentiation for nothing."

Olivia took Axel's hand and began making her way towards the entrance to the stadium.

"Come on!" she yelled back to the rest of us. "I've got a little Homecoming present for you all."

One by one we pushed our way through the rusty turnstiles, which hadn't functioned properly for the past five years and were most likely to blame for the continuous decline in ticket revenue.

As I shuffled down the steps and landed onto the springy turf, I was instantly swept away into a vivid memory of my first football game on this very field.

It was a warm Fall evening and the first game of the season, which I'd heard were always sold out. There I was, sweating with anticipation under the blazing white lights, Axel and Sam on either side of me. As the other team trailed to the opposite end for the opening kickoff, any trace of concentration escaped my brain as it absorbed the overwhelming stimuli surrounding me. I felt so small and insignificant within the vast expanse of the stadium, like an ant skittering along the sidewalk. The knot in my stomach clenched tighter and tighter with each glance towards the Home stands, every inch of which was flooded with people who'd soon be scrutinizing my every move, people who were relying on me for victory.

In the front center section stood a cluster of unruly students spewing rowdy chants and waving homemade posters; a surreal feeling pulsed through me as I saw my name plastered across a few of them. A group of shirtless hooligans lined the forefront, blowing into long red stadium horns while displaying their painted torsos that spelled out R-A-N-G-E-R-S. At the far right of the stands, the marching band blasted our endearingly corny school anthem, pausing every so often to vigorously fan themselves in their stuffy purple and gold suits. The remaining two-thirds of the crowd consisted of parents, accompanied by rambunctious children gobbling down nachos or running amok up and down the steps, and faculty members who I'd assumed had no other riveting plans for the evening. At the left sideline was the Chamberlain High cheerleading squad, Cassie front and center, leading the pack in a series of shoulder stands and heel stretches.

Whenever I felt myself losing momentum during a game, whenever my endurance began slowly draining away, all I had to do was look to my left and see her—her shining chestnut hair, her vivacious smile, the warm glint in her eyes. All of it replenished me, motivated me, not just to keep trudging along, to go through the motions until the blare of the final buzzer dismissed me to the locker room. She motivated me to win.

We followed Olivia and Axel as they curved around the far-right corner of the field and into the shadowy nook below the Visitor stands.

This particular area—hidden from view of the school and shielded from the neighboring houses by a row of plump bushes—had served as an optimal hideaway since the very first days of freshman year. The six of us convened under here anytime we needed an escape from the more monotonous moments of high school, a majority of them falling into this category. Whether it was bi-weekly tornado drills, tedious school assemblies featuring overzealous guest speakers, or excruciating double-period chemistry labs, this secluded sanctuary never failed in rescuing us from the mundane misery others were forced to endure. Thankfully Chamberlain's attendance policy was relatively lax: as long as you didn't miss more than three periods in a day, you weren't marked absent. It was a good thing we'd identified this loophole early on, or we all would've been expelled for truancy by now.

I plopped down into the grass, the light fall breeze caressing my skin as I plucked free the rest of the buttons on my stuffy dress shirt. It was warm tonight, warmer than it had been all month. The morning forecast had called for scattered showers, though there hadn't been a drop in sight all day. For the past couple months it had been raining quite often in Chamberlain, five or six days out of the week, and scattered showers had become a safe prognosis for all the regional stations.

As I peered through the slits in the bleachers, the cloudless sky gazed back at me with an array of shimmering eyes. Cassie lowered herself into the grass beside me, gently resting her head against my shoulder.

"It's nice tonight," she said.

"I know," Olivia replied, spreading her coat across the grass like a tarp to ensure her dress remained free from soil stains. "So much better than sweating our asses off in that gym. Besides, I don't think Principal Reed would've been too fond of this baby." She spent a few seconds digging around in her hot pink handbag before furnishing a dark brown bottle with white cursive winding across the front.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, but it was too dark to make out the words.

Hazel immediately grabbed the bottle from Olivia's hands, eyeing it with a mixture of excitement and suspicion. "Condamné..." she said in her best attempt at a French accent. She looked befuddled as she unscrewed the bronze cap and took a brief sniff before handing the bottle back. "Never heard of it. It sounds a little too fancy for us."

Olivia casts her a mischievous smile. "Spiced whiskey, ninety-nine proof. My sister swiped it from the liquor store she works at, gave it to me last month for my birthday. She said it's imported from Paris...or was it Bordeaux?" A blank look faded into her face as she struggled to recall the product's true city of origin. "Anyways, it's strong as hell. You can get fucked up off a couple sips."

Axel took the bottle from her and began scanning the small white label on the back. An approving grin stretched across his face. "Let's test that theory, shall we?"

Without further ado, he twisted the cap off and took a hefty swig, a trace of liquid streaming down his chin and dripping onto his tie. He swished it around in his mouth, swallowed, and gave an affirmative nod as if he'd just sampled an exceptional pinot noir at a wine tasting.

"Real smooth," he said, wiping his chin. "It's got a nice flavor, too. Nothing like that four-dollar vodka Tucker gets us from the gas station. That shit tastes like rubbing alcohol."

"Gotta love Tucker," Olivia said, chuckling. "But I think the occasion calls for something a little less...trashy."

Tucker,