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Six Years Ago
It's a strange thing,being in love with a girl who's destined for more than I can give her. Knowing that my heart is fated to be broken but loving her so fiercely despite it.
Sometimes, I pretend that there's a future for us outside of our small town. I imagine following her to LA and watching her sparkle from the side-lines as all her dreams come true. I tell myself it's possible that a girl so clearly meant for bigger things could be happy spending her life with a boy like me.
But most of the time, I don't like to think about it at all.
There's peace to be found in blind ignorance, and I'm quite happy shielding my eyes to the truth.
“Doesn't it make you feel so small?” Thea whispers as she lies on her back beside me in the park, her pastel-pink prom dress grass-stained and muddy.
“What?” I ask, leaning up on an elbow so I can look down at her face and count the freckles sprinkled across her nose.
“The sky,” she replies. “All those stars up there, how far away some of them must be for it to take years for their light to reach us.”
I try to pull my gaze away from her, to look at the night sky and see what she's seeing. But I can't. Because to me, Thea is more than all the millions of stars up there. To me, she shines the brightest.
“Are you even listening?” she demands, her eyebrows pulling low in a small scowl.
“I'm always listening.”
“But you're not looking at the stars.”
“I'm looking at you.” I shrug. “You've got exactly three hundred and fifty-eight freckles. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn't.” She laughs lightly with a playful roll of her eyes before changing the subject. “I wonder how prom's going. My mama's gonna be so mad that we skipped out on it.”
Laughing, I trail my finger down the bridge of her nose. “Then don't tell her.”
“Oh please.” She snorts. “She'll know the moment she sees the dirt on my dress. No girl goes to prom and comes home looking like she's been out tipping cows.”
“It's worth the shit she'll give you for it though, right?”
She grins. “More than.”
Leaning down over her, I brush my nose across hers and then tentatively capture her lips with my own. Her hand comes up to stroke the side of my face and scratch at the small patch of hair I've been proudly growing out for months. With a soft sigh, she deepens the kiss and goosebumps break out along my skin.
Here on the night of our senior prom, lying beneath the stars in the park instead of drinking spiked punch with our friends, nothing has ever felt so right as our soft lips pressed together.
Sometimes, when we kiss, the heat of teenage hormones turns it into something different. And when that happens, we're usually forced to break apart before we take things too far. Because even though we've been together for months now, and our bodies certainly make their desires known, our families raised both of us with conservative Christian values.
But that doesn't happen this time. We're not hurried, or heated, or lustful. We're content in the tenderness of our kiss. Our tongues move together, dancing and tangling. We touch each other, soft and innocent, memorizing the shape of each other's faces with our fingertips.
It isn't our first kiss, but it feels just as significant.
If I didn't know any better, I'd say it feels like a last kiss.
When we finally break apart, our lips are swollen and our breaths come heavy and loud.
“Hey, Thea?” I stroke my hand down the side of her face, preparing to tell her something I've never told her before.
“Yeah?” she answers, her voice breathy.
“I love you.”
She gasps, her cheeks turning the color of my mama's petunias. “What?”
“I love you,” I tell her again.
