I don't own Sleepover!


Steve Phillips had won king. While the queen winner went to the crowd to pick her dance partner, Steve went to the microphone. The girls in the gymnasium held their breath, crossed their fingers, and prayed that he would pick one of them. Steve, on the other hand, knew who he wanted to dance with.

"Julie?" he asked.

A billion Julies rejoiced, in their heads of course.

"Julie Corky?"


(Julie's P.O.V)

He didn't. Did he? I don't know. No, he couldn't have. He doesn't know me. He doesn't even know I exist. He couldn't mean me Julie Corky. Did he? Did he mean me?

I watched him. My eyes were just glued to him. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black shirt. He was gripping the microphone. God, he's cute! The lopsided crown on his head made him look even cuter.

I couldn't breath.

"Julie! Julie, he just said your name."

Hannah's voice snapped me out of it. He did say me name! I wasn't dreaming?

"That was real?" I asked.

"Yes." Farrah said.


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