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When they were finished, Paul and I clapped. “Great work, everyone. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Paul thanked them as they wished him good luck on their way out, and I saw a telltale blush creep up his neck and onto his ears. Was he getting nervous for tomorrow?
Paul and I had been friends since freshman year of high school. We were fifteen and even though we’d gone to school together since kindergarten, we’d run in completely different social circles until that point. I was a dancer, dreaming of one day becoming a prima ballerina in New York, and he was a skater kid, not dreaming of much beyond the next grunge band to blare in his headphones. At that point, I’d been dancing seven days a week. It was my whole world. I balanced math class and blistered feet—equally painful in my mind—but it was all worth it to reach my goals.
When my cousin unexpectedly passed away from a heart attack at only twenty-seven years old, our family discovered that hypertrophic cardiomyopathy ran in our genes, so we all got tested—and then my entire life changed when I found out I had HCM too.
Needless to say, I had a hard time processing my new diagnosis at first. Not only was I mourning the loss of my amazing cousin, but now I was also terrified that the same thing would happen to me someday. And even worse than that (at the time) was the doctor telling my parents I needed to dial back my dance schedule. It was too rigorous. Too laborious. Too strenuous. All words I’d begun to hate with a fiery passion.
Paul found me sitting on a bench, crying, when I was supposed to be in class. He was ditching too, because he always did, so he sat with me. Our friendship was born that day and had never faded. He was my person. Through and through. So, now that I was helping him propose to his girlfriend, I felt a fierce need to make sure he was positive he wanted to do this before it was too late.
And I clung hard to that need. Becausethatneed was the one a platonic friend would have, which is what I was. What I always would be. Paul deserved someone who could give him the world. And that someone wasn’t me.
“I can’t believe tomorrow is the day. Are you nervous?” I asked, feeling him out.
He raised a brow at me as he tucked his phone back in the pocket of his dark wash jeans. “No. Should I be?”
I pushed his arm. “No, of course not.”
“You don’t think she’s gonna turn me down, do you?”
“Paul. She won’t turn you down. She’d have to be crazy to do that.”
“Well, good, cuz that would make me look like an idiot in front of the entire town for this whole flash mob thing.”
I laughed. “You’re not going to look like an idiot in front of the entire town, even if she does turn you down. You’re going to look like a man who’s willing to go big or go home when it comes to proposals.”
“I mean, that’s kind of what I’m going for. I think what you do is so cool. You know, the big statement. Going to all that effort for someone. I couldn’t imagine proposing and not having you help me pull it off.”
“Yeah, for sure.” I forced a smile that I hoped looked genuine. Well, itwasgenuine, because he was right. I loved that I could give people that chance to put a ton of effort behind this important question. I guess there was just a little bitter part of me that wished I were in Roxy’s shoes even though I knew I could never be.
“Anyway,” he went on with a chuckle, “as long as I don’t go home with the ring still in my pocket, I’ll be fine.”
I swallowed hard as I turned away from him to gather my stuff. “You’re not actually nervous about whether or not she’ll say yes, right?”
“No, not really.” He shuffled his feet, lifting one hand and scratching the back of his head. “Okay, wait. Maybe. It’s just that I’ve been feeling like something is a little…offbetween us.”
Freezing in my preparations to go home, I looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, ever since I got back, I think I expected it was going to be this big amazing switch from being long-distance to a real-life couple. But instead, she’s actually been kind of distant.”
“Maybe this is just how she is in a relationship, but you didn’t know that because you were in Hawaii.”
He nodded. “Right. Yeah. I guess I can’t really compare how she was before to this since it is really different.”
“Exactly,” I replied, watching him closely. He seemed like he needed some hope right now, so I did my best to bury my own pointless feelings and just be encouraging. “Besides, most women don’t want to date a guy in the military because they know he’s gonna leave and they don’t want to have a long-distance relationship. Now, you’re back. So obviously, things are going to be better, not worse.”
Paul turned and paced to the row of long windows on the back wall that stretched the entire length of the room. He put his hands on the ballet bar, staring out at the view of Main Street below. “That makes sense, but you’d be surprised how many times she’s brought up how much she misses our texting conversations. Or how much she misses the way I would send her a good morning text every morning.”
“Well, why don’t you start sending her a good morning text every morning again?”
His back still to me, I watched as he hung his head, his shoulder blades flexing through the thin cotton of his tee as he gripped the bar. “I did, the next morning, but it didn’t really seem to help.”
Nerves filled me. I didn’t want to discourage him. I’d cautioned him already, and he shut me down. There came a point where I worried that too much nagging about Roxy would lead to a wedge being driven between us. And I wouldn’t—couldn’t—allow that to happen. Paul was there for me when no one else was. He’d been the only person outside my family to know about my diagnosis for a long time. After being my rock for so long, he deserved as much happiness as possible. So I’d bit my tongue and made an effort to be supportive.
But now that he was voicing his own concerns… I had to be honest, right? “Paul, are you sure you want to go through with this?”
He pushed off the bar and faced me. “Yes. I’m sure. I’m just venting.”
