Just Friends [✓]

16. Promises

[VOTE & COMMENT to vote for Spencer and Ethan as Junior Prom Kings.]

A/N: Keep up! There is a POV switch. It is in BOLD and kind of hard to miss.

Chapter 16 – "Promises"

At Last – Etta James

Spencer's POV

"Richard Styles, Alex Brighton, Brody Rhodes, Mathew Gonzalez, Spencer Haynes."

Ethan blinked as his hand slid off of white broad sheet with the names of the boys who were nominated for Junior Prom King. He swallowed harshly and looked my way with way too much sadness in his eyes, "I wasn't nominated?"

I patted his shoulder, "There's always next year."

He casually shrugged my hand off and leaned against the wall, hiding the sheet in the process. "I might be dead next year." He moaned, "Isn't the world supposed to end in December or something? This could be my one moment that I remember forever."

I rolled my eyes, "First off, The Mayan calendar thing is the media taken sensationalized bull and running with it, second, when since winning Junior Prom the highlight of anyone's life besides that one underachieving, ex-high football playing guy who was popular in high school and now is in the cheap bar down the street?"

"How the hell are you nominated and I'm not?" he continued, basically ignoring everything I just said. He kicked his feet sourly and lowered his head, "I'm the guy here."

"Woah, there partner, watch it." I barked, "I'm just as much guy as you are."

He didn't even make eye contact; instead, he raised his left arm and curled it back to flex his bicep, "Maybe I should start working out more."

I smacked him on his forehead and his head instantly snapped back; as well eyes his eyes back to me. He rested an angry open palm across the reddening area and growled lowly at me, "I'm in a crisis right now, Spence!" he spat and it came more so cuter than it did angry. The situation at hand was far too stupid to take his rising ire to heart.

For his sake, I suppressed the laughter that was bubbling and brimming at the back of my throat, "Ethan, this isn't that serious. It's just a stupid crown."

"Then forfeit."

I scoffed, "And lose to Mathew? Not a chance."

He pouted and gave me his best set of puppy eyes, "Not even for me?" I raised a brow and blinked and once he got the answer that stared (or blinked) him in the face, his head smacked the board, "You're a monster."

I shrugged, "You knew that before you started dating me." I muttered, causally playing with my fingernails.

After a few little seconds of silence, he radomly exploded. "So what am I supposed to do? Just let some chick dance with you while I watch on as someone wraps their arms around your waist and sways?"

"No." I responded as calmly as I could; hopefully not erupting like he was would give him a hint that he was – once again – blowing things up bigger than they actually were. "We are going to dance and have fun and party and celebrate each other. So what if I have to share a three minute dance to a Micheal Bolton song with some broad? If she isn't carrying a penis and isn't named Ethan Littman, then it means nothing."

Half way through my calm reply, his chest's erratic puffing had slowed and his heartbeat that practically echoed up and down the empty hall could have all but stopped; so, by the time I was done with proclamation, he was still and silenced with seemingly no 'angry-boy' retort in him.