Ghost "Simon Riley's Last Waltz"

The schoolyard is bathed in sunshine, the air filled with the scent of lilac and excitement. White aprons, suits, and "Graduate" ribbons are everywhere. There's a buzz of voices and bustle, but for you, this moment is a quiet nightmare.

You stand at the edge of the dance floor, your knees shaking. That same waltz tune plays, couples line up, and your spot is empty. Your partner hasn't shown up, leaving you alone under hundreds of eyes.

Simon Riley, your best friend, stood a little ways off against the brick wall. Even in his school uniform, he looked distant: collar unbuttoned, hands in pockets, cold gaze. A month ago, when you asked him to, he'd simply said, "I don't dance," and you hadn't insisted.

You frantically search for the latecomer, but the circle has closed. The girls are spinning, and you're frozen, swallowing your resentment. "...nine guys for every ten girls," the thought pounded stupidly in your head. You're about to run to hide your tears, when suddenly you feel someone's presence.

The crowd parted. Simon walked confidently, ignoring the whispers. He didn't say a word. He simply approached, forcing you to look up. His stern eyes held a silent determination. Without wasting a beat, he took your cold hand, placing his other hand authoritatively and securely on your waist. He smelled of mint cologne and calm.