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“I couldn’t tell you.”
“Why?” I give him my best death stare, and hope it’s working.
He rakes his bottom teeth across his lower lip. “I like your hair like this.” He lifts his hand, ruffling the edges of my short hair.
I swat him away. “You’re not answering me. Like always.”
“Well, I didn’ttechnically,” he draws out the word, “shoot you.”
“Same difference.”
He steps closer. “I know I’m about ten years and six months too late, but would you like to go to prom with me?”
My brow furrows. “What?”
“Prom?”
“Yes, I know what prom is, but…”
“Would you want to go,” he lowers his head, “with me?”
“Where? How?” I laugh a little. “When?"
He sticks his head out the door, and a few minutes later Dean strolls into the house with a garment and shopping bags.
“Get ready, I’ll be waiting,” Xavier breathes. He’s so beautiful, it sends an ache to my chest just staring at him.
An hour later, I’m dressed in a vibrant red cocktail dress and slipping into the back seat with Xavier.
Dean pulls away, racing toward the lights of downtown.
Xavier grabs my hand, and the eagles take flight inside me. This is the best feeling in the world, holding my best friend’s hand. And he is my friend. He always will be. We forged that connection long ago, under the stars, out in front of the sun, and beneath the clouds every day.
So, when we pull up to a hotel and enter into the grand ballroom, I smile, still holding my best friend’s hand.
There’s no one here, just us and the music that sweeps in through the sound system.
He pulls me close, wrapping a hand around my waist. “Dance with me.”
And we sway to the music, both of us wishing this was our reality many years ago. A life we were robbed of by my father.
I know I want this man by my side for the rest of my life, and if we can only have these stolen moments together every now and then, well, that’ll be perfect too.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers in my ear.
“I miss you all the time.”
“I’m always here for you, Rhi,” he says, using my real first name.
He leans down, brushing his lips with mine, and I let myself succumb to his kiss. It’s longing and passion all rolled into one. And I want to tell him all the things. I want to thank him for all the things as well.
I tug at the back of his neck, thanking—loving—him with my body.
He’s my Xavier. He always was and will always be. Even if we don’t end up together in a traditional happily ever after fashion, I’m good with it.
My eyes mist over at the thought.
The off visits every few months. The sneaking around. The never being able to be his wife. And even though I would take it over nothing, my heart still burns for a better future.
