Scars of August (August #1)

Prologue

It’s the perfect day—seventy degrees with a light breeze and not a cloud in the sky.

But I’m sweating, and my hands are clammy. I don’t know why. We’ve done this before. Yet something about this whole morning has had my stomach heavy and a looming feeling in the air that today is different somehow.

This suit, which I’ve worn a handful of times before, suddenly feels suffocating.

The material is the worst thing I’ve ever felt on my skin.

I swallow a bundle of nerves, which reminds me that this tie is probably a little too tight.

I wish I could rip it off. Her dad has already had to help me fix it. Twice.

We sit together familiarly on the couch, talking about various things, just as we normally would.

Today is not–should not–be anything other than a normal day at my best friend’s house.

I’m sitting on the same couch I’ve sat on since we were kids, waiting for her to come into the room.

I’ve done this hundreds of times. My fingers pick at the hard plastic seam of the box sitting at my side.

The noise adds a cadence in the background like a clock ticking.

I hope it’s distracting, but I think it’s done the opposite.

“I don’t need to lecture you tonight, do I?” her dad asks.

A nervous laugh slips through my lips. Does he? “No, sir,” I say, immediately regretting my word choice. I’ve never called him that before. Why would I now? He notices too.

“Oh?” his eyebrow arches. “Because normally I’d lecture someone who comes over and anxiously fidgets while sitting on my couch and calls me sir.”

“Sorry.” I backpedal.

He lets out another low laugh. “No need. It’s kind of funny to see you nervous like this.”

So, it’s not just me. Whatever I’m feeling is obvious enough to be called out on. Before I can lie and say I’m not, her mom runs into the room, camera in hand.

“Okay, they’re ready! Are you?” she chirps.

He stands up, so I do the same. Not sure why, but my anxiety tells me to go with the flow.

“Okay!” her mom calls down the hall. “Come out!”

Within a couple of seconds, she rounds the corner, except for a brief moment, I question if it’s actually her. As her eyes meet mine and she smiles, the doubt rushes away. She sparkles, and I’m not sure if it’s from all the glitter on her dress or just her smile alone.

As the sound of her mom’s camera clicks away, she walks towards me, and I remember I’m supposed to put this flower on her wrist.

“Hi.” She says quietly.

“Hi,” I say back, sounding as timid as I feel.

I really want to tell her she looks gorgeous, but I can’t bring myself to form words, especially not with her parents hovering over me.

“Wait, before you do that, we have one more.” Her mom says, just as her other best friend rounds the corner.

They’re dressed in almost the same way, yet there’s no comparison. My eyes go right back to her just as her head turns back to me. Her smile reappears, and we carry on to what we were doing.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her mom rush to get to a spot where her camera has a view.

I take the bundle of flowers out of the plastic case and slide it onto her wrist. She grabs the matching rose bud and pins it to the lapel of my jacket as we share another silent smile before her mom ushers us outside.

“Let’s get some of you guys before everyone else gets here.” She directs us to the same spot in the yard she always has for pictures, then begins clicking away.

“How many of the same picture is too many?” I whisper against her head.

She laughs, looking up at me, and the sound of it replaces just a bit of nervousness with contentment, dare I say excitement? I would’ve never said no to her asking me to be her stand-in date, but now that we’re here, I’m more than happy I agreed.

“The limit does not exist.” She whispers, referencing one of her favorite movies—one I’ve had to sit through a million times. But that movie makes her laugh out loud every time she watches it, so I do it willingly.

“Put your hand on his chest so that I can see the matching flowers.” Her mom directs again.

She does as she’s told, and the action brings us closer together. I suck in a breath as my hand rests on her lower back.

“Oh, you kids are going to have the best night. No one ever forgets prom night.”

I smile even though the statement doesn’t ring true for me.

My prom was last year, and honestly, nothing about it is worth remembering.

But then I look down and see her eyes looking back up at me—bright, sparkling, and full of something that’s not just excitement.

Suddenly, the nerves I’ve been fighting all day, combined with the feeling in my chest now, I’m starting to think that this prom night might actually be the one we’ll remember.