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We live together now, in the same apartment he got through his job at the shop. In the beginning, I thought it would be a little awkward. Moving in together when we’ve never even really dated.
But it wasn’t.
Nothing with Zach is ever awkward. It’s always filled with passion, yes. Intensity and an in-born heat. But it’s never weird. Even when we clash, we clash so gloriously and naturally, like two celestial bodies meant to crash and burn and yet, still somehow orbit around each other.
Anyway for the first few weeks, I took the bedroom and he slept on the couch. We were sort of roommates.
Roommates who were irrevocably in love with each other.
We went on dates, explored the town, made some friends. It was Zach’s way of making me feel cherished, doing the right thing by me. By the end of his courting though, I was bursting out of seams. I wanted his hands on me, his lips, his teeth. I wanted to be able to dive into his arms whenever I wanted and I wanted him to sink into my softness whenever he wanted.
Good thing, he was about to combust, too.
So, we graduated from being roommates to being girlfriend and boyfriend a month after we moved in.
Zach doesn’t like that term: girlfriend and boyfriend. He thinks it’s childish. But whatever. I like it. It makes me think that we’re young and in love and the time we lost fighting and hurting each other wasn’t as long.
In reality thought, it was close to a decade.
A decade of hate and screw ups and misery. When we could’ve been there for each other, through years of bullying.
I could’ve told him that he was amazing when his Dad beat him down and his mom didn’t care enough. And he could’ve made me realize that it didn’t matter that I didn’t possess a society- certified body or if my hair was blue or if I came from the other side of town, I was still beautiful to him.
We could’ve saved each other so much heartache.
But I’m glad we’re together now. Us against the world.
I’m glad I was with him when his mom passed away a couple of months ago.
Mrs. S called him with the news and we headed back to Princetown the very next day for the funeral.
We saw everyone: Maggie, Mrs. S, Grace, Tina, Leslie and Art. He’s doing great and he’s gotten so big. I can’t wait for the day when he’s the tallest kid in his class. No one will have the guts to pick on him.
Zach’s dad was there at the funeral too. He met with Zach like the whole prison incident never happened. Like, Zach never punched him and Mr. Prince never slapped Mrs. Prince.
As expected, nothing came of that incident, anyway.
I don’t know what’s wrong with rich people but I’m glad we’re out of that town. I’m glad Zach’s moving on.
He did the eulogy that he wrote himself.
I’ve never been prouder of him. Not even when he brought home books and notebooks and told me that he wanted to learn.
He wanted to be better. For himself.
Every night before going to sleep, we read together. It feels like a dream, where we’re naked and sweaty, wrapped up in a sheet, reading about love and passion.
Who knew reading could be so hot? Who knew I’d want to do it for the rest of my life? Maybe even get a degree in literature. But I’m not thinking that far ahead right now.
Right now, I’m in love.
I look down when the announcer introduces Zach aka The Dark Prince.
It’s a mini-version of a stadium with the well at the bottom and spectator area up top. I’m two floors up and the bottom looks way deeper than it did a second ago. Swallowing, I scan the wall that Zach will be riding on, going in circles.
God, I don’t want to imagine how far up the top is from the bottom and how hard the ground looks. Why can’t they have safety nets or something?
Why do they have to make it so dangerous?
