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Episode 1: The Unspoken Crush
Author's Note: This is the original draft of Love Beyond the Prom Night. The new, revised version with improved pacing and deeper emotion is now live under the title "Bound Beyond Prom Night." Thank you for your support — please continue the story there. Check my profile for the revised episode.
Riverside High always came alive in the mornings — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking, and the air buzzing with a thousand teenage conversations about homework, gossip, and weekend plans. But amid the usual chaos, one girl always stood out.
Layla Wellington.
Junior. Creative arts captain. The kind of student who somehow had her life together while everyone else was barely surviving the week. She was the brain behind every big event that made Riverside sparkle — from the school's cultural fair to the legendary Prom Night. Teachers trusted her. Students admired her. And yet, behind her calm smile and perfect planner, she hid one truth that could derail her flawless reputation.
She had a crush.
Not a small one. A full-blown, heart-racing, can't-breathe-when-he-walks-by kind of crush.
On Ethan Marshall — Riverside's golden boy and star of the basketball team.
With sandy-blond hair that always looked freshly tousled and a smile that could melt through the morning fog, Ethan had that effortless charm that made people want to be around him. He was kind, funny, and annoyingly humble — the kind of guy you couldn't even hate properly because he was genuinely nice.
Layla told herself it was harmless. A silly crush, nothing more. But every time she saw him laughing with his friends in the hallway, her heart betrayed her.
"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath as she adjusted her art supplies one afternoon in the auditorium.
She was setting up for a drama rehearsal when she overheard two basketball players chatting near the doorway.
"Coach said Ethan needs a partner for the Prom showcase," one of them — Jake — said, tossing a basketball lightly.
"Bet Tiffany's already planning her outfit," Marcus teased.
Jake snorted. "Please. If anyone should do it, it's Layla Wellington. She'd make it look classy."
Layla froze mid-movement, her pulse skipping. Me? Partner with Ethan? Ridiculous.
Still… the idea refused to leave her head.
By the time she got home that day, she'd convinced herself it meant nothing. Just casual talk. Boys joked all the time. Yet, when she looked over her Prom Night planning notes, her mind betrayed her again.
Ethan's name fit too perfectly in the margin beside hers.
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The next week blurred into meetings, decoration sketches, and endless committee arguments over lighting colors. Layla was in full command mode when fate decided to have a sense of humor.
She was rearranging the supply boxes in Room 214 when someone bumped into her from behind. She spun around, startled — and nearly collided with a pair of deep blue eyes.
"Whoa, sorry," Ethan said, steadying her before the paintbrushes could fall. "Didn't mean to sneak up on you."
Her voice caught. "N-no problem."
He smiled — that easy, heart-stopping grin that made her brain turn to static.
"I'm supposed to check on ticket sales," he explained. "But I think I just crashed your committee meeting instead."
Madeline, Layla's ever-mischievous friend, perked up immediately. "Ethan! You're just in time. We were picking partners for the Prom showcase."
Layla's eyes widened. "Madeline—"
"Layla and Ethan!" she declared dramatically. "Perfect pair."
A ripple of laughter filled the room. Layla's cheeks burned hot, and she wanted to vanish into thin air. Ethan just looked amused.
"Guess I'm drafted," he said lightly, turning to her. "If you're okay with it?"
Every nerve in her body screamed, Say no! But her mouth betrayed her.
"Sure," she said. "Why not?"
And just like that, the whole school had a new topic.
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Rehearsals began the following week in the gym. The air smelled faintly of dust and floor polish, fairy lights already half-hung in preparation for the big night. Layla had chosen a waltz — something elegant, timeless, impossible to mess up.
Until Ethan tried it.
"Okay," he said, frowning in concentration. "Left foot… right foot… wait, why are you moving backwards?"
Layla laughed. "Because you're supposed to lead, not chase me."
"I'm trying! My legs just— they don't listen!"
Their laughter echoed through the gym, bouncing off the walls. Slowly, painfully, they got better. Between missteps and near-collisions, they started talking — about everything. Her love for theatre. His dream of studying sports medicine. Her fear of messing up the Prom. His fear of letting people down.
Somewhere between practice sessions and inside jokes, their partnership stopped feeling like an obligation.
One evening, while rehearsing a complicated spin, Ethan's hand slipped to her waist, steady and warm. Their eyes met — just for a heartbeat — but the air between them shifted.
"Gotcha," he whispered, his voice low, teasing.
Layla swallowed hard, trying to steady her breathing. "You'd better," she said softly. "We have a show to pull off."
But even as they laughed it off, something new lingered — a quiet current neither of them dared to name.
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The night before Prom, Layla stood in her bedroom, staring at the silver dress hanging on her door. The silk shimmered under the light, reflecting everything she'd worked for — and everything she might lose if her heart betrayed her tomorrow.
Her phone buzzed.
Ethan: Nervous?
She smiled.
Layla: Terrified. But we've got this.
Ethan: Nah. We'll own it.
She read the message twice before setting the phone down, her heart hammering softly in the quiet.
Tomorrow could change everything.
And deep down, she already knew — some stories don't wait for permission to begin.
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