I’ve tried so hard not to think about everything back then. That was then, and now is now, and I’m not the same person anymore.
I’ve made sure of it.
High school is tough for everyone. No one’s ever said ‘Damn, I wish I could relive my high school years, it was just a blast’,because it’s not. It’s painful, and awful and a living hell.
To some more than others.
“I would’ve asked you,” Kaden says, pulling me out of my head.
I shake my head. “No, you wouldn’t have.”
“I would.”
I turn to face him, tilting my head to the side. “You wouldn’t even have been in my year.”
“Then you would’ve been the cool dude who brought a college guy to prom.”
“You didn’t go to college,” I chuckle.
He shoots me a look. “They wouldn’t know that.”
And for a split second, I imagine what that would've been like. Taking someone like Kaden to prom. I picture him in a suit, holding my hand as he leads me out on the dance floor—
“Did you dance?” I ask, before I can stop myself.
“Yeah, I mean, it’s prom. You have to dance at prom.”
It’s like a fucking gunshot to my heart. That I missed out on that. Lou and I practiced for months.
I shift on my chair, not knowing what to say and maybe Kaden catches that because he looks at me before he slams a hand over the strings, silencing them and reaches for his phone on the table. He types something before he puts the phone down and leans the guitar against the house wall and stands. There’s some music coming from inside his apartment as he reaches a hand out to me.
“Come on.”
“What?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Come.”
I awkwardly take his hand and stand. Feeling confused until he places a hand on the small of my back and pulls me in.
“What is this? A high school movie?” I snort, but I wrap my arms around him. “Fuck, this is cheesy!”I love it.
“Shut up, and dance with me,” he mumbles and rests his chin on my shoulder. I feel the faint beating of his heart against mine and I want to keep it. I take a deep breath. Inhaling him.
“This Pearl Jam?”
“Yeah,” he says, swaying slowly with his arms around me. “Just breathe,” he mumbles.
“What?”
“The song. ‘Just Breathe’.”
I listen to the words, and my throat tightens. I swallow around it, and try to just breathe as I hug him a little tighter.
“Don’t feel sorry for me,” I whisper, so low that I’m not sure he heard it first.
“I don’t,” he says, stroking a hand down my back. “I feel sorry for the fuckers who didn’t ask you to prom. They missed out.”
43
