All week long, the big story at school is Sam’s prom proposal. It’s probably the most dramatic one that’s happened so far this year. By Friday, though, I’m kind of sick of hearing about it. Sick . . . and jealous, I guess. Still no prom proposal in my world—at least not yet.

At lunch, the saga of Sam and Layla is replaced with my friend Jocelyn’s story about how her boyfriend, Owen, asked her to the prom last night too. Owen’s a pretty private guy, so I think we’re all surprised by his renting advertising space on a movie theater screen. When Jocelyn sits down to see the most recent Paranormal movie, up pops a picture of Owen holding a set of cue cards and a shy smile. She shows us a picture on her iPhone where he’s holding one that says, WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME?

“It was so incredibly romantic,” she says breathlessly. “And the best part is that it’s over now. I mean, I was dying to find out the way Owen would ask me. But now that it’s done, I can focus on my dress and my hair and all the fun parts of prom. Not the stressful parts.”

A couple of the other girls are nodding—most of my teammates have already been asked. Beth glances over at me and raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing from Tommy yet, I gather?”

I shrug and try to look unfazed.

“Not yet. But Tommy’s a planner—I’m sure he’s got something killer up his sleeve and he is waiting for the perfect moment.”

The movie theater idea is pretty genius—and since Tommy’s taking me to the old revival theater this afternoon, I wonder if a prom proposal is what he has planned. The fact that we’re even going there is a romantic gesture—there’s a showing of one of my favorite movies, Titanic, playing for one night only.

So that’s what I’m thinking about when I meet him at the General Qi after school. He’s already waiting, leaning up against the passenger-side door with his muscular arms crossed over the chest of his black T-shirt. God, he looks scrumptious. Once again, I feel that flit of hesitation, of self-consciousness—like, Why is he with me? I may be confident on the track, but I’m anything but when it comes to Tommy. I’m not a cheerleader or model thin or movie-star gorgeous. I’m just a girl who runs fast and loves him. But maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

“Hey baby.”

He wraps his arms around me and smooths a hand down my back, then kisses my cheek.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure.” I smile up at him as he opens my door and I slide inside. The smell of leather seats and vanilla air freshener hits me immediately, and I settle into my seat.

“So, did you hear about how Owen asked Jocelyn to the prom?”

Tommy frowns a little, then shakes his head.

“No, I don’t think so. Definitely heard about Peterson’s proposal on Monday, though. Man, he’s got it bad for Layla—what self-respecting guy would rent a suit of armor and fill a hallway with helium balloons?”

“I think it’s sweet,” I say, pouting a little. Tommy grins at me.

“That’s because you’re a born romantic.”

“Well,” I say, giving him a pointed look, “at least Layla has a date for the prom . . .”

He sighs. “You know, I don’t know who the hell came up with this whole prom proposal thing anyway. Whatever happened to simply asking, ‘Hey, wanna go to prom? Sure, sounds good.’ Seriously, why is it necessary to roll out the red carpet for a sure thing?”

I stare at him. “So that’s what I am to you? A sure thing?”

Tommy glances over at me. “That’s not what I meant.”

“That’s what you said.”

“Come on, Mare, you know what I mean. We’ve been together long enough that prom should be a given, right?”

“Well, that doesn’t mean a girl doesn’t want a romantic proposal to get her there. Prom’s less than a month away.”

“Whatever. Let’s just drop this. I don’t want to fight with you.”

We run by my house so I can feed the dog and write my parents a note. No one’s home when Tommy pulls into the driveway. He pauses, shifting the car into park.

“Want me to come in with you?” he asks, looking over at me.

I swallow. There are dueling Marijkes again, just like when I start a race. One Marijke says, “Absolutely I want you to come in—I want you to do a lot more than that!” The other Marijke says, “No ‘I love you’ means no hanky-panky. Period.”

“Do you want to come in?” I ask, meeting his gaze. His lips spread into a sexy smile.

“Well, I figured I could come inside for a little while and remind you just how romantic I can be . . .”

He cocks an eyebrow, and I feel my resolve starting to thaw around me.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “But we’re only staying for a minute.”

We’re hardly in the door before Tommy has his hands on me. I drop my bag on the living room couch just as he pulls me against him.

“Tommy,” I protest as he begins to nibble at my neck.

“I thought you wanted me to be romantic?” His voice is a little gruff in my ear and a shiver passes over me.

“I just don’t think we should start something we can’t finish. And the movie starts in less than an hour. This is important to me.”

“Okay, okay.” He brushes a barely there kiss over my lips. “Then let’s get out of here so I won’t be tempted.”

I scribble a note and leave it on the counter. When I glance over at the kitchen table, I can’t help but notice the stack of papers at my place that seems to be growing every day. I’ve been accepted to three different universities, but I haven’t officially made a decision yet. North Carolina State is my top choice and I should have mailed in my acceptance last week, but I’d been so caught up with practicing that I couldn’t even stop to breathe. Now is the perfect time to catch up, but let’s face it: I’m so caught up with Tommy that I haven’t had the time or desire to start filling out boring paperwork.

So I leave it for another day. Again.

Instead, I focus on right now—on making Tommy understand how I feel about him and putting him in the position to ask me to prom. Like Jack and Rose in Titanic, we’re meant to be together. I just know it.