chapter 8 : the last glow
1575 Words
The night of prom glowed like a fever dream.
Moonlight spilled over the rooftops of Amsterdam, reflecting in canal waters that shimmered like melted silver. The school gymnasium, usually dull and echoey, had been transformed into a fantasy—velvet drapes, fairy lights strung like stars, and soft music pulsing through the air like a heartbeat.
Rissa stood in front of her mirror, heart thudding against her ribs. Her dress, a custom crimson gown with a slit high up her thigh and glitter sewn into the silk, hugged every curve. Her hair was swept to the side, lips painted a deep cherry.
Her phone buzzed.
Quan: Outside.
She smiled before even reading it properly.
As she walked down the steps of her home, she saw him waiting by a rented black Audi, nervous hands clasped in front of him.
His tux was sleek—black on black, with a deep red bowtie that matched her dress. His hair was slicked back but messy at the ends, and his glasses reflected the glow of the streetlamp.
When he saw her, his mouth parted just slightly.
“Wow.”
She grinned. “You clean up well too, professor.”
He chuckled and opened the door for her.
As she slid into the car, he paused and looked at her, eyes a little wider, a little softer.
“You look like the night sky,” he said. “Dangerous and beautiful.”
“Poetic,” she said, biting her lip. “Trying to get lucky?”
He smirked. “Trying to be honest.”
---
When they arrived at prom, the hallway was filled with students dressed to kill. Glitter, cologne, and too much body spray mingled in the air. Teachers stood awkwardly near the punch table, trying to look cool.
Everyone turned when Rissa and Quan entered.
And for the first time, no one whispered.
Some nodded.
Some smiled.
Some even waved.
Nae, dressed in a baby-blue corset gown and diamonds that sparkled with every step, sauntered over with a slow clap.
“Well, damn. Y’all are the main characters tonight.”
Rissa smirked. “Was there ever a doubt?”
Nae rolled her eyes affectionately. “Prom royalty voting ends in ten minutes. Better start your campaign speeches.”
Quan blinked. “Wait—we were nominated?”
“Um, yeah,” Nae said with a smirk. “Pretty sure the internet broke when Rissa dropped her love letter to you.”
Rissa elbowed her playfully.
They danced, slowly at first, caught in the rhythm of the music, hands tight around each other. Rissa's head fit perfectly against Quan's chest, and he whispered the lyrics to her like a secret spell. The entire world faded into fairy lights and soft jazz.
But halfway through their third slow dance, the music shifted.
A pulsing beat, loud and sultry.
The DJ yelled, “Time for something spicy!”
Students screamed as a popular Amsterdam club remix filled the air.
Quan pulled back. “Okay, I definitely don’t know how to dance to this.”
Rissa laughed. “I do.”
She grabbed his hands and guided him to the beat, swaying her hips, teasing him with every step. Quan tried to keep up, laughter bubbling out of him as she spun around and ground her back lightly into him.
“Holy—” he muttered.
She turned, wrapping her arms around his neck. “What?”
“You’re trying to kill me.”
She smiled wickedly. “Maybe.”
Their lips crashed in the middle of the dance floor.
And this time, no one said a word.
---
Later in the night, the DJ quieted the music, and the student council president took the stage.
“It’s time to announce our prom royals!”
Students huddled together, phones raised.
The tension was almost cinematic.
“And the prom queen is… Rissa Terlingen!”
Cheers erupted. Rissa looked stunned, clutching her chest as Nae squealed beside her and pushed her forward.
“And the prom king… Quan DeWitt!”
If Rissa was shocked, Quan was paralyzed.
Nae shoved him too. “Get your crown, King Nerd!”
They met at the stage, hand in hand, stunned smiles on both their faces. The tiara was placed on Rissa’s curls, the silver crown on Quan’s head.
Flashbulbs burst like fireworks.
The DJ leaned into the mic.
“Now give us a royal kiss!”
And they did.
This time, it wasn’t soft or tentative.
It was hot.
A kiss with years of tension, weeks of heartbreak, and days of healing.
The crowd screamed. Some clapped. Some blushed.
But no one turned away.
---
After the crown, after the slow songs, and after the punch was spiked enough to make the teachers suspicious, Rissa pulled Quan aside.
“Come with me,” she whispered.
He raised a brow. “Where?”
She didn’t answer.
Just led him out the back exit, down the hallway, and into the old theater wing that had been closed for renovations. The door creaked open, and Rissa tugged him in.
Dust and stage lights greeted them. The red velvet curtains were pulled back, and the stage was littered with props. Moonlight streamed through the cracked ceiling above.
“Remind me again,” Quan said, breathless. “Is this legal?”
“Does it matter?” she replied.
She pushed him back onto the stage, straddling him before he could protest. Her hands moved to his bowtie, loosening it, fingers trembling slightly.
“You sure?” he asked, voice husky.
She nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”
He kissed her, hands threading into her curls, pulling her closer. Her dress hitched up, his jacket slipped off, and heat bloomed between them like wildfire.
Every kiss felt deeper. Every touch was new and hungry. The world outside—the drama, the rumors, the expectations—melted away. There was only this moment. Them. Heartbeats syncopated. Breaths tangled.
When they finally pulled apart, lying across the dusty stage floor, she laid her head on his chest, listening to the calm thump-thump-thump.
“I love you,” she whispered.
He smiled against her hair. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”
---
The days after prom were a blur of pictures, countdowns to graduation, and the electric hum of freedom coming fast.
Rissa and Quan didn’t hide anymore.
They held hands in the hallways, shared kisses at lockers, and even sat side by side in the cafeteria—much to the shock of the jocks and nerds alike.
Nae became their unofficial hype woman, posting TikToks of Rissa doing Quan’s hair, or videos of them making out behind the bleachers with heart filters and “#PowerCouple” captions.
The same students who once whispered now waved, smiled, or asked them for advice.
Rissa even got an anonymous message one morning that read: “Because of you, I came out to my parents. Thank you for being brave.”
And Quan?
He got a college acceptance letter to a tech school in Delft—with a full scholarship.
Rissa, torn between dreams of fashion in Paris and staying close, surprised everyone.
“I applied to the same school,” she told Quan one evening under the stars.
He blinked. “You did?”
She smiled. “Turns out they have a fashion program. Who knew?”
He leaned in. “So this is real?”
She kissed him gently. “Everything, always.”
---
Graduation came with tears and speeches. Rissa wore heels that sparkled in the sunlight and gave a speech that had even the teachers dabbing at their eyes.
Quan sat in the front row, clutching her hand the whole time.
And when they tossed their hats into the air, it felt like shedding a skin. Leaving behind the noise, the judgment, the pain—and stepping into something new.
---
On their last night in Amsterdam before moving to Delft, Rissa and Quan sat on the same canal bridge where everything had changed.
She leaned her head on his shoulder.
“Do you ever think about the beginning?” she asked.
He chuckled. “You mean when you used to call me four-eyes and trip me in the hallway?”
She gasped, laughing. “I did not!”
“You absolutely did.”
“Okay… maybe once.”
He grinned. “I think about it all the time. Because I never imagined someone like you would love someone like me.”
She turned to him, eyes glowing.
“Someone like me needed someone like you.”
He cupped her face. “I’m never letting you go.”
She smiled. “Good. Because I plan to annoy you for the rest of your life.”
And they kissed, slow and sweet.
Two broken pieces finally glued together.
---
Epilogue
Two years later, Rissa stood in front of a fashion show crowd in Paris, her designs dancing down the runway in velvet and gold. Cameras flashed, names were whispered, and somewhere in the front row, Quan cheered louder than anyone.
He wore a tailored blazer she designed herself.
She walked out at the end, took her bow, and blew a kiss to him.
He caught it like it was sacred.
Later that night, curled up on their apartment balcony, he looked at her and said, “Still proud of me?”
She smiled.
“Always.”
---
- Writer
