Two weeks later
 
I struggled to smash my notebook into my bag. Finals week was coming soon and seriously wasnt prepared.

I barely heard someone approach because I was so busy trying to sort out my things the best I could without dropping papers all over the hall. "Hey babe."
 
 "Jesus Christ. Mark you scared me."
 
He bent down to pick up my bag that I dropped when he scared me. He held it open, making my job a lot easier.
 
I zipped it up and shut my locker door, "You ready to go?" Mark nodded and we set off to the theatre. 
 
"Belle! Wait up." I turned around to see Brianne following after me. She smacked her overly glossed lips as she spoke, "Okay so tomorrow is senior ditch day and I was wondering if you'd like to go prom shopping with me and a couple of the other girls."
 
I groaned on the inside at the thought of going dress shopping with Brianne and her posse. "OMG! I'm so in. Text be the deets? That would be so awesome."

Give me a N! Give me O! What does that spell? Torture!
 
"Cool! See you guys later!" She glided away, heels clomping on the ground.
 
This project is beginning to get stressful. The essay itself is due next Friday, Prom is on Saturday then we have the musical the day after and then finals week.

"Dude. We're graduating in three weeks." I could barely wrap my head around it. I am just so used to school. Being out there on my own, doing stuff by myself, seems pretty scary.
 
We entered through the huge door to the theater and it wasn't too hectic. We had all memorized our lines about the end of last week. Between the scenes, everyone was getting sized up for costumes and the sets and props were being made.
 
Our stage director with her tired, old voice came out from the stage, "Isabelle! Mark!  We're going to run over 'Summer Lovin'."
 
I smiled, "Okay."
 
We set up on the stage and sang it a couple times trying to get our timing and harmony right. Eventually we finished it perfectly and the director shouted up from where she was sat in the front row, taking notes, "Well done. Everyone can take a five minute break and we'll do the scene after this song."
 
I sat down on the stage, not really caring that I was getting my jeans dirty, and unscrewed the water bottle I had in my bag.

 "Why are you sitting on the floor?" I looked and saw Mark standing above me.
 
I replied with a shrug, "The chairs are too far away." He took the drink out of my hand, put the lid back on and put it back in my bag. "What are you-" He didn't let me finish my sentence, instead he pulled me up and brought me to the seats.

I took a seat and put my feet up on the top of the seat in front of me. 
 

"So," Mark's voice spoke up, "I have something to ask you."
 
I look at him, "Uh okay, what is it?"
 
He smiled, "Just close your eyes and look in the direction of the stage and I'll tell you when to open them."
 
"Okaaay?" I did as I was told and covered my eyes with my hands.

I could hear shuffling and a hush fell over the room. I heard the lights click off and was honestly lost at what was going on.
 
"Okay Isabelle. Open!" I removed my hands from my eyes and let my eyes flutter open and my jaw dropped at the sight in front of me.

There was quite a few people from the cast and crew, each holding up paper that had a letter written on it, each one had a different pattern. "Isabelle, will you go to prom with me?" Mark stood at the end, holding a single rose. "So?"
 
I brushed off any anxiety I was feeling and I walked towards him. When we were face to face, I whispered, "Of course I will." I reached up on my toes and pressed my lips to his.

Oh there's another good point of being popular: You get cool boyfriends that will do big extravagant things for you. This is definitely going in the essay. 
 
The students started clapping and a few put in some catcalls and whistles. 

"Okay love birds. Save the emotions for the play why dont you. Lets all get back to work."

And with that, the cast and crew returned backstage, leaving me as an emotional mess.
 

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Sorry for another short chapter! But what do you guys think? I'd love to know.