Chapter 37— Finals, Prom Panic, and a Dress Surprise
Lyra's POV
The library feels like a battlefield of textbooks and highlighters. I'm perched on a chair at the edge of a long table, pencils strewn across my notes, flashcards spilling onto the floor. Finals are looming — every formula, every date, every concept pressing on me like a weight I can't shake. Around me, the group is equally buried in their own notes. Soraya keeps muttering corrections under her breath, Saphira's typing so fast her fingers blur, and Cassian is flipping through pages like a whirlwind.
Evan sits beside me, calm as ever, flipping through a thick chemistry textbook. Occasionally, his gaze drifts to me, and I feel that familiar flutter in my chest. He nudges my shoulder gently. "Lyra," he says softly, "maybe a short break? You've been at this for hours."
"I'm fine," I mumble, trying to concentrate on a particularly complicated equation. My pencil hovers, but my brain feels foggy. The weight of exams and senior-year chaos presses down on me, and I can feel my concentration slipping.
"You're not fine," Evan says, leaning slightly closer, his hand brushing mine when he nudges my notebook. "You've been grinding nonstop. Let me help."
I glance at him, feeling a small smile tug at my lips despite the stress. He's so patient, so steady. "Okay… maybe just a quick break," I admit, pushing my notes aside.
We step outside into the bright afternoon, and the warm breeze feels like a small relief. The chatter of students and the distant hum of traffic fills the air. Evan falls into step beside me, matching my pace as we walk toward a small café near campus. The group trails behind, carrying laptops, notebooks, and a mountain of flashcards.
Then it hits me — like a punch straight to the gut. My stomach twists, and my heart starts racing. "Wait," I gasp, stopping mid-step. "Prom… it's in a week. I don't have a dress."
Evan pauses and lets out a soft laugh. Not a mocking laugh — more like a quiet chuckle that makes my cheeks heat up. "You… forgot?" he teases, eyes twinkling.
I throw my hands up. "Of course I forgot! I've been buried in finals! Who has time to think about prom dresses when you're drowning in calculus and history?"
He grins, brushing a hand along my back to guide me forward. "Relax, Sol. We knew you'd forget. So… we bought your dress before hand."
"What?!" I freeze mid-step, heart hammering. "You—what?!"
Evan grins, pulling a small shopping bag from behind his car like some magical reveal. "Ta-da," he says, holding it out to me with mock ceremony. "All yours. Fits your style, your favorite color… hopefully your eyes agree."
I stare at him, a mix of shock, disbelief, and sudden happiness bubbling up inside me. My fingers tremble slightly as I take the bag and peek inside. My jaw drops. The dress is perfect — a soft sapphire, flowing just the right way, elegant but playful, sparkling subtly in the light. It's… everything I could have wanted without even knowing.
"I… I don't even…" I trail off, overwhelmed. My voice catches in my throat. "You did all this for me?"
He shrugs, grinning. "We did. Your group, me, a little teamwork. Can't have our Sol showing up to prom looking anything less than spectacular."
I laugh softly, the tension of finals, stress, and everything else melting away. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously in love with my Sol?"
My sol.
Mine.
Just the words alone make my heartbeat go crazy.
Dubdubdubdubdub
That's how it sounds right now.
he teases, nudging me gently with his shoulder. My heart flutters, and I can't help but blush.
The rest of the group erupts into playful cheers and teasing as they gather around to see the dress. Soraya whispers excitedly, "It's perfect! You'll be the star of prom!" Saphira adds, "I mean… obviously, Sol, but still. This dress is gorgeous." Cassian rolls his eyes, but I catch his smirk — approval, subtle but there.
Later, at home, I try the dress on properly. It fits like it was made for me — elegant, flowing, just enough shimmer to catch the light. I twirl a little in front of the mirror, and for the first time in weeks, I feel light. The stress of finals, the looming weight of senior responsibilities, all of it fades for just a moment.
Mom steps in, eyes wide, smiling warmly. "Lyra, you look… breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking."
I smile softly, heart fluttering. "Thanks, Mom… it's from Evan. He… and the group… they got it for me."
Her eyes soften, full of pride and understanding. "They love you, Lyra. Don't forget that. And… it's okay to let yourself enjoy it. Eighteen is just the beginning."
That evening, the group gathers in my living room to review some last-minute study plans, but the mood is light, full of laughter, teasing, and small reminders of prom. Evan sits beside me, occasionally nudging my shoulder, brushing fingers against mine, and whispering encouragement.
I catch his eye, heart fluttering, and realize: finals are still important, prom is coming, but the small, patient gestures of love, care, and friendship make everything feel… possible. Like maybe, just maybe, I can handle all of it — exams, prom, graduation, and all the adventures still waiting on the senior list.
And with Evan — patient, teasing, and quietly in love — by my side, I can't help but feel like everything might just be perfect.