His thumb rubbed mine back. “Always.”
Our eyes met beneath the lights of the dusty worn tree, our old promise at the ready as our voices chorused one final moment for the night. “We stay.”
After that, silence reigned. Because no words could explain away the madness, could take away the hurt, that was our lives, our family.
But this moment, this was ours.
And we were in it. Together.
Chapter 4
Four Years Later
The carpet had a worn path from my years of pacing. In the same spot. Often for the same reason.
Marc.
I stared at my phone, willing him to message back. The screen lit like a beacon.
Hey. Sorry.
I scrambled to respond. Are you home? I pictured him in his disaster of a room, waving his hockey stick like a sword through the air.
Just left practice.
Oh, that’s right. I sighed.
What’s with the 50 texts?
My fingers itched to type back. What’s with ignoring me?
But I didn’t. Because he wasn’t. Technically.
I took a deep breath, relaying a calmer message through my fingers. I need to finalize plans for winter formal. He needed to ask me. Why hadn’t he asked me?
Okay.
I waited.
Nothing.
And?
And I support your efforts?
I chucked the phone at my padded headboard, and it promptly slid between the mattress and the wall. I dove after it, shoving my arm into the carefully tidied depths under my bed. Just out of reach. The phone flashed at me. Marc was still texting.
Shouldn’t you be talking to Shayne anyway?
I stared at it through narrowed eyes. Why Shayne?
He said he was going to ask you.
My stomach formed a pit. I’d rather go solo than go anywhere with Shayne Rochford and his grabby hands. I smiled. He’d tried to corner me against my locker before English lit, as if I liked having no say in who entered my personal space. I’d probably broken at least one of his toes with the heel of my foot before he’d even been able to ask the dreaded question.
I shoved my arm further down, grasped the phone, and finally retrieved it.
He won’t be now. His limp today? All me.
Haha. Nice. He’s a punk anyway.
Agreed.
I stared at the screen, rubbing my shoulder where I’d mashed it against the bed.
Ask me. Ask me. Don’t make me ask you.
I’m sure you’ll figure something out.
I sighed. Really, Marc?
Are you still going with Keri?
I knew the answer. They’d broken up last week.
No. lol I’m all crazied out. Thanks.
Maybe she went crazy from trying to make plans with you.
I jabbed in my reply. Thou shalt not call women crazy.
Hey, crazy is crazy. Shayne’s crazy too. Better?
I see. Equal opportunity shaming.
Exactly.
I rolled my eyes and sent him an image of the same.
My phone felt bulky in my hand, heavy with the weight of unanswered, unissued questions. I tapped at the side.
Fine. I’d ask. So you’re going solo?
To what?
If dense had a middle name, it would’ve been Marc. The formal.
Oh. Nah. Signed up for a shift at work.
My breath hitched. He hadn’t even thought to ask me. We’d both just ended super lackluster relationships, had been hanging out more again, and still. I wasn’t on his radar.
Not like that anyway.
I swallowed. Ok. I’ll hit up Em. See what she’s doing.
Good idea. Gotta shower. Nite, J.
Nite.
The theme was winter wonderland. Not exceptionally creative for a winter formal, but at least they’d pulled it off. White trees filled with white lights popped against silver backdrops offering the perfect photo op from all angles. Emily and I had arrived with a couple other friends. It wasn’t not fun, but it definitely wasn’t what I’d pictured when I’d broken up with Ken.
It wasn’t shocking, the moment when I realized I’d buried my feelings for Marc. We’d been sitting on my porch, reading under a bundle of blankets. It had been too long since we’d hung out, even to study. He was chomping on an apple, his jaw working overtime to crush the large, crisp bites. And I couldn’t keep my eyes off him, couldn’t shake the idea that his jaw should be working those lips against mine. And that nothing could be more normal than that.
Except he had a girlfriend. And, technically, I was still attached.
But still. It was all I could think about.
He’d frowned at me from behind his apple, going in for another mouthful. “You okay, J?”
A little apple bit flew out of his mouth, and I wiped it off the arm of my sweater.
“Yeah.” I laughed. “I’m great.” How was this not disgusting me?
I’d stared at him as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
Really? Marc? What was I thinking?
Ken—yes, he looked like the doll—was all the things I was supposed to want. Especially as a senior. He was kind, smart, future-focused and goal-oriented. He loved to think ahead, organize a calendar, his space. He even managed to pull off a sweater vest with style. Well, at least I thought so.
But he wasn’t Marc. He wasn’t home.
He wasn’t . . . us.
So, I’d ended it. That night.
And now?
Emily pulled at my arm, bringing my thoughts back to the dance floor. Whatever. Faces of my choir friends surrounded me with smiles and laughter, and I shook off the memory and its hold, letting the music takeover. Until the song changed and a slow one started. Couples paired up across the room, forming into two-headed blobs of hands and feet. I could only imagine melting into someone that much, being that open. I’d only ever dated from a distance.
At least with my heart.
I started to shuffle out of the crowd, when it parted, leaving nothing but open floor space.
Leading straight to Marc.
His suit was a little rumpled, his tie completely crooked.
But he was staring at me like I was the only person in the room. Like he was the only person who’d seen me, the real me, for my whole life.
Maybe he was.
With only a few steps, he was at my side. “You look amazing.”
My heart kicked into overdrive.
“I know.” I blushed, my confidence a cover, and smoothed the dark green fabric of my dress.
His hand trailed mine down the fabric. “Green’s my favorite color.”
I searched his eyes. “I know.”
The smile that fell across his face warmed me to the core.
I beamed back. “I thought you had to work.”
He shrugged. “You wanted me here with you.”
“I never said that.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “You didn’t have to.” He took my hands and leaned into my neck. “Jillian, dance with me.”
This wasn’t an offhand request, not the dance of friends we’d had before. This was the dance of more. Of maybe. Of possibility.
And without another word, our bodies joined into a blob of our own. His head rested on mine, his arms swept across my back, and we swayed as one until the song was through, and the next. And the next.
His mouth hovered over my ear. “Come on, we have to go.”