Operation Promposal

Marcus slid behind the library shelves, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. His iPhone clutched in his sweaty palm, camera ready, he was about to execute the most critical mission of his sophomore year: capturing Jordan reading by the window — the candid shot his friends had been daring him to post on their finsta.

He'd been low-key crushing on Jordan since September, when they'd bonded over that disastrous group project. Now, with spring semiformal around the corner, Marcus needed courage he didn't actually possess. His plan: get the perfect shot, slide into her DMs with something smooth, maybe ask her to dance.

Everything was going perfectly. Jordan was sitting in that patch of golden-hour sunlight, her hair falling like a curtain. Marcus lifted his phone, finger hovering over the shutter button, feeling like the world's clumsiest spy. This was it. His moment.

Then Barnaby happened.

The library's resident tabby cat, normally asleep behind the circulation desk, chose that exact second to launch himself from a nearby shelf. Barnaby landed directly on Jordan's table, tail flicking with feline superiority, and proceeded to sit directly on Jordan's book.

Marcus's phone slipped. The camera flash blazed through the quiet library like a lightning strike.

Every head turned. Jordan looked up, confused — and there was Marcus, half-hidden behind a shelf, face burning hotter than the sun. Caught. Totally cooked.

But instead of looking creeped out, Jordan started laughing. Not mean laughing — the genuine, doubled-over kind that made her nose crinkle.

"Were you trying to snap a pic of Barnaby?" she called out. "Because he's basically the library mascot."

Marcus's brain short-circuited. He could've played it off. Could've nodded and said yeah, love cats. But something in her laugh — warm, unguarded, genuinely amused — made him step out from behind the shelf.

"Actually," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "I was trying to get a picture of you."

The library went silent. Jordan's eyes widened, and for three excruciating seconds, Marcus prepared to die of embarrassment right there between the biographies and autobiographies.

Then Jordan smiled. Not just any smile — that smile.

"You could've just asked," she said, patting the seat beside her. "Barnaby doesn't bite, and neither do I."

Marcus sat down, his phone forgotten on the table. They talked until the library closed. About everything and nothing. He never got that perfect shot, but somehow, walking home under streetlamps with her number saved in his phone and plans to get bubble tea tomorrow, he figured he'd captured something way better than a photo.

Sometimes, the best moments aren't the ones you plan. Sometimes, you gotta get caught by a cat to find what you're actually looking for.