7. Senior Year
Senior Year
LANEY
AGE EIGHTEEN
" I 'm glad you crashed tonight," I say, swinging my legs off the back of his tailgate in my yellow prom dress.
"I never wanted to miss it, but prom fell the same week as finals," he says, hopping up on the tailgate to join me.
"I know," I sympathize as we stare at Lake Texoma, parked in what became our spot eight years ago. "I'll be at Stanley with you in a few months."
He's quiet, and my insecurities start to take root. We haven't seen each other as much over the past few months since he left for college. Our dynamic has changed. I wouldn't say it has been bad, but the distance that separated us physically feels like it's seeped in—in other ways.
"Are you sure that's what you want?"
My head snaps to him. "If you don't want me to come, just say that."
His eyes widen as his hand tightens around my fingers. "No, Laney. That's not what I'm getting at. I want you there if you want to be there…" he trails off .
"Then what? Did you find someone else?" The second I found out he was going to college three hours away, my heart sank into my stomach.
The year difference between us in high school wasn't a big deal, but after graduation, that year felt like ten.
I suddenly felt like a little girl compared to him.
What college guy wants to date a girl in high school when he can have a woman.
I'm sure the girls on campus are experienced and better suited to care for his needs.
My stomach starts to churn at the mere thought of him touching someone else.
I try to pull my hand away, and he grips it tighter. "Are you serious? Why would you say that? Of course there's no one else."
"Well, what am I supposed to think? It feels like you're sitting here telling me you don't want to be with me anymore when I'm excited about eliminating the space between us. We'll be on the same campus and won't have to sneak around."
"That reminds me... Do me a favor. Don't sneak out tonight.
" My body starts to get hot. Did he really just say that?
My sneaking into his room was his favorite thing a few months ago.
Now it feels like that's the last thing he wants.
I turn my head away from his to hide the hurt, but then his free hand is on my chin.
"Hey, that was ill-timed. I didn't mean it the way you're thinking.
You mentioned sneaking out, and my mind went to the text my dad sent me earlier.
He told me to keep an eye on you tonight because a drifter has been spotted around town in the last few days.
I didn't want you climbing out of your window in your pajamas. I'll come to you."
His eyes slowly flick between mine, checking to ensure he's eased my concern. "Okay, but don't come because I want you to."
I should let it go and take his words for what they are, but I can't. I'm feeling a lot of insecurity.
Life after graduation is intimidating. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't scared.
High school relationships are not the same as adult ones.
Sure, some people marry their high school sweethearts, but many don't. I'm scared of finding out which one we become.
"I know you got accepted to Lindenwood." His eyes stray away to the sky.
"I spotted your acceptance letter peeking from beneath your history book last time I was in your room.
" When my mom agreed to relocate for my education, I broadened my college search—mostly for show.
Deep down, I wanted to follow London, though Mom insisted I apply to Lindenwood after she caught me researching their campus and programs. "I don't want you to prioritize me over the future you want for yourself. "
"You're part of my future," I say softly but surely. "I thought I was part of yours too."
He jumps down off the tailgate and pulls me to the edge. "You're the only future I want, heartbreaker. Don't ever think for one minute I want anything or anyone else. It was you from the second you said, "I'm going to marry you one day."
"I’m not sure those are the exact words I used," I tease.
"Stop…" His hands wrap around my waist, sending a chill down my spine the way they always do. I crave his touch. It ignites a fire inside of me as much as it soothes me. I feel safe and happy with his hands on me, because his hands are home. "Dance with me."
"Did you really just ask me that?" I smirk and raise a brow.
A faint smile appears, and his cheeks tinge the slightest shade of pink. "I did. Why is that so hard to believe? It's prom."
"Yeah, but there's no music, and we're not at prom.
You're stealing a line from some mushy rom-com you saw on TV.
I don't want the guy that does what he thinks he is supposed to do.
I might be missing prom, but there's nowhere else I'd rather be.
" I shrug and look toward the sky. "You're enough," I echo the exact words he once gave me in this very spot.
He's quiet—a little too quiet—and I risk glancing at him.
I'm nervous about looking him in the eye after saying those words but too curious not to know what I'll find.
When I pull my gaze away from the stars, I find him smiling from ear to ear.
"What?" I try hard to keep my face impassive but fail miserably because his handsome, dimpled smile is contagious.
He holds up his phone. "I have music." He lays it down on the tailgate and presses play, and the chorus to "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer starts crooning from the speaker. "And I'm not doing it because I think it's what I'm supposed to do. I'm doing it because I'm selfish."
"You're selfish?" I question skeptically.
"Yeah, I needed a reason to put my hands on you.
" He pulls me flush against his chest, my breath hitching from the swiftness and our new proximity as he slides one hand under my thigh.
His lips are mere inches from mine, and all my thoughts begin to swirl before he adds, "And I would regret not making this memory with you.
You in this dress"—his lips graze mine—"is the prettiest thing I've ever seen.
" He lifts me down and sets me gently on my heels.
"So I'll ask again. Will you spare me a lifetime of regret and give me the honor of dancing with the most beautiful woman I've ever seen? "
I roll my lips, attempting to stifle the giddy smile that has my heart melting, but it's useless. "I'd never say no to you, and I'm pretty sure you know your hands don't need a reason to touch me."
I'm always the one pushing the boundaries with London, and he's always the one pumping the brakes.
We only recently made it to third base—a base I've been dying to explore again—but I can tell it makes him uncomfortable.
So, I've left it alone, settling for the touches he does give me.
He wraps one arm around my waist, the other finding my hand and lacing our fingers together.
"Can I ask you something?" I say as we begin to sway.
"Anything?" he answers without pause.
"Why this song? It came out before we were born."
"Classics never die, and I already told you…" He leans his forehead to mine, and my heart skips a beat as his eyes lock on mine. "I'm selfish. I want to kiss my girl beneath the stars while I spin her around a moonlit patch of grass, beside the same lake where she ran away with my heart."
"London—" I start with words I don't even have. Did he just say I ran away with his heart? Was that an admission?
"Don't," he murmurs against my mouth. "Kiss me, heartbreaker."