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She’s a vibrant pink flower, shining so bright.
Making the world around her go dim with her light.
Among a field of white daisies, she is all I see.
A teardrop hitsthe page and fans out, soaking into the paper. Wiping the tears away, I turn back to the beginning and start again. I flick through the pages, noticing how the level of detail improves from the first drawing right through to the last, and it’s then that an overpowering sense of realization forces all the air out of my lungs.
He has been drawing me for six years.
Six years.
He saw me all that time and memorized everything about me with such clarity in his mind that he could put it onto paper without me even being in the same room, and the brutal truth is—I never saw him. He’s right when he said I didn’t see him back. Not until the day he handed me my pencil.
I close the sketchpad and place it beside me, my emotions bubbling to the surface. Putting my face in my hands, I lose control of the waterfall fighting to break free from my eyes and let the tears fall.
Makeup be damned.
All those years and the time we had together was such a small fraction of that time. We should have had more. I wish we had. It wasn’t long enough. And as much as I want to hate him for the pain he caused me to give us that time, he is right when he said it wouldn’t have ever happened had he not done what he did.
I would have still been with Logan. Nothing would have changed, and everything would have been the same. I never would have discovered the man hidden behind the oversized sweaters and glasses who brought a color into my world that I didn’t even know I needed.
I never would have discovered that I could have such a passion for another human being or feel a connection so strong that it felt like I had found the missing piece of the puzzle to my soul.
He admitted he did not regret what he did to bring us together, and if I’m being totally honest with myself, I don’t regret that he did it either. And if I had the chance to go back in time, I would want him to do it again. It hurt like hell, but it was worth it to have that time with him.
“Ava,” my mom calls from downstairs, bringing me back down to earth. “Eric is here.”
I wipe away the remaining tears and saunter into my bathroom to fix my makeup.
After cleaning up the blotches and reapplying my makeup, I check my hair one more time, then exit the bathroom, heading out of my room into the hall. Walking down the stairs, warmth floods my chest when I see my dear friend standing by the door decked out in his black tux.
He turns and spots me, a big smile spreading on his face as he watches me descend the stairs. “You look stunning, baby girl.”
I smile as I approach him, reaching up and fixing his slightly crooked tie. “You brush up pretty good yourself.”
“Here, I brought you this.” He holds out a small white box, a transparent screen on the lid allowing me to peek at what’s inside. He opens it and pulls out a corsage of two pink roses surrounded by baby’s breath, white flowers and decorated with chiffon ribbon. The pink almost matches the color of my dress, and I know that it wasn’t a coincidence with Eric.
It’s beautiful.
He dips his head, gesturing to my hand, and I lift it up so that he can secure the corsage to my wrist.
“Okay, photo time,” my mother sings, dancing around in front of us with her phone. I roll my eyes, and Eric chuckles, wrapping his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side to pose for the photo.
After my mother had taken a gazillion photos, we finally managed to escape out the front door. A black limo is parked out on the street, and Cadence’s head pops out of the open sunroof, followed by Chelsea, both of them holding a glass of champagne.
“Woo-hoo,” Cadence cheers, leaning on top of the roof, waving her glass of champagne in front of her. “It’s time for prom, bitches.”
Chelsea giggles and they clink their glasses together. I look up at Eric, and he smiles down at me. “Ready to rock this?”
He holds his bent arm out for me. I smile back, feeling slightly lighter at the contagious excitement of my friends, and I slip my arm into his. “Let’s do it.”
ChapterThirty-Two
AVA
The theme isUnder the Stars.
We enter through an archway donned in fairy lights and into the ballroom, and my attention is immediately drawn to the illuminated display above me. The ceiling is covered with strings of white fairy lights, hanging in a crisscross pattern spanning the whole length of the room, the tiny bulbs twinkling like stars against the backdrop of the dark ceiling.
