Here's how mine went:

“Hey Rachel, should I dance with Emily? Should I do something?” “No, she doesn’t like you like that.” Should I trust her? Maybe Rachel’s being protective of her friend. Maybe she just doesn’t like me... Okay fine; I’ll just distance myself and act like she doesn’t exist. Grab the light-up styrofoam tube the DJ’s threw at us. Put on the plastic hat. Dance with anyone who is a girl and not Emily. Act like a douche. Check. Can’t help but look at her every few seconds; is she looking at me? Maybe… Can’t see her face. Now it’s slow dance time: Sam Smith. I really want to dance with her, but I won’t. Can’t make it seem like I want her too much. Rush to leave dance floor. Go to restroom, come back, talk to Fahad. “Yeah, apparently Rachel said that Emily doesn’t like me like that. I those ‘dates’ we went on didn’t mean anything.” Fahad nods. Oh wait, here’s Emily… She’s running to me… Why? “Hey I’ve been looking all over for you!” …What? “Come dance with me!” …Okay… Walk to the dance floor. My hands on her back. Thank god for open-backed dresses. Faces so close; I can feel her breath. Her mouth inches from mine; imagining the feeling of her kiss. Lips so soft. Lean in… No, she doesn’t like you like that. Divert head sideways. Getting hard; wishing I had my phone in my front pocket so it’s less obvious. She leaves.

We leave. I’m DJing the after party, but my set gets shut down because of a noise complaint. I finally decide leave after sitting around for a couple hours: “Bye Emily!” “Bye Andrew. Prom was so fun with you!” Tight hug; after, her hand lingers and presses against my chest for a fleeting second. Loving every moment of it. Can’t help but ask: “Hey Emily, do you want to go on a date later this weekend?” “No; I’m pretty busy.” “Oh, ok. That’s fine.” Fuck.