" That’s when I decide that prom is stupid. It’s just a dumb dance that might have meant something to the old me, but the new me doesn’t really give a flying frick.
And that’s when Mark Baker, whom I now refer to as Galen’s BFF because of their testosterone-enhanced run-in last year, walks up to me. “You got your dress picked out for prom? Let me guess. It’s violet, to match your eyes.”
I raise a brow at him. Since Galen has been gone, Mark has been awfully attentive. Not that Mark isn’t nice, and not that if it were a year ago, I’d be a babbling idiot if he took the time out of being godlike to ask what I planned on wearing for prom. But like everything else, Mark is so one year ago.
And I don’t know if I like that.
I shrug. “I’m probably not going.”
Mark is not good at hiding surprise. “You mean Galen won’t allow you to-“
“Knock it off. I know you think Galen is controlling or whatever, but you’re wrong. And anyways, I can hold my own. If I wanted to go to prom, you can bet your sweet Aspercreme I’d be going.”
Mark holds up his hands in surrender. “Simmer down, skillet. I was just asking a polite question. Did you want to talk about starving children or government conspiracy instead?”
I laugh. I’d forgotten how easygoing Mark is. “Sorry. I’m just in a bad mood I guess.”
“You think?”
I punch his arm, then feel guilty about how flirty it looks. “Well, nobody’s perfect.”
The bell rings and he starts walking backward, away from me. “But some people who shall remain nameless are pretty close to it.” He winks, then faces the other direction. "

― Anna Banks , Of Triton (The Syrena Legacy, #2)