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I can’t stop smiling; after years of waiting, we’re finally going to do it tonight. I don’t even know why we waited so long. Yeah, I do. Because we wanted the moment to be special.
But now I just wish we’d done it ages ago. I’m so nervous.
I lie down on the bed in what I imagine must be a sexy pose, then sit up again, smoothing the wrinkles I made over the sheets with my hands. I fidget with the sheer fabric of my dress.
I fish my phone out of my clutch to check the time.
Johnny is fifteen minutes late. My stomach does a small somersault at the thought of him finally joining me. He insisted we came here separately after leaving prom. He said it’d feel more like a secret, romantic rendezvous. Also we didn’t want to leave prom together and let everyone at school guess what we were up to. The plan was for him to wait a while after I left and then join me. But he should be here by now.
I keep sitting on the bed, locking and unlocking my phone every minute for the next half an hour.
Still no sign of my boyfriend.
No missed calls or messages, either.
That’s weird. He would’ve let me know if he was running late. Just as I’m about to assume the worst, a knock sounds on the door.
Beaming brighter than a lighthouse in the night, I open the door. The smile falls off my face when, instead of Johnny, I find a bellhop in a burgundy uniform waiting on the other side.
“Hello?” I say.
“Miss Mayer?” he asks.
“Yes?”
“I have a letter for you.”
My gaze drops to his hands and the white envelope he’s holding.
An irrational dread sinks into my chest. I thank him and take the letter, not sure I want to open it.
The envelope has a single word written on it: Mari. But it’s enough because I recognize the handwriting. I’d recognize it anywhere. It’s Johnny’s.
He’s not coming.
The realization hits me harder than a punch.
I tear the envelope open with shaking hands and read the letter without even sitting.
Mari, I’m sorry. I can’t be with you.
Johnny
I stare at the words, reading them over and over again. I’m out of breath. The suddenly cold air hits my lungs, and I’m not breathing right.
Johnny’s not coming.
Not just that, he broke up with me.
Why?
This doesn’t make sense.
I turn the sheet of paper to see if there’s something else on the other side, but no, it’s blank.
Fear, pain, and adrenaline all rush through my veins at the same time. I’m about to have a panic attack when my rational side takes over. If the bellhop delivered the letter to me, it means Johnny was here.
On impulse, I fling the room door open and run into the long hall, down the stairs, and across the lobby onto the curb.
