Barrow
I keep one eye on Star as we navigate the room, noticing the way her gaze flits around nervously, as if she’s expecting someone to jump out and tell her she doesn’t belong.
For a moment, I think I catch the glimmer of tears in her eyes. But then she passes a hand over her face and they’re gone. A trick of the strings of twinkled lights draped around the gym, probably.
What I’m not ready for the is the swell of protectiveness that rises from my belly, strong and searing. I can’t — won’t — allow anything to harm this woman, or to worry her.
She might not realize it yet, but she belongs here as much as anyone else.
Even more importantly, she belongs with me .
I’ve never been a possessive man, but something is shifting in me the longer I’m in Star’s orbit. It’s clear that there’s darkness in her past, that she’s been hurt. But equally clear is the light that is her heart, unable to be fully dimmed by life’s twists and turns.
I find myself thinking that I want to be the one who helps her to shine brightest.
When Principal Bird spots us, she makes a beeline toward us, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
“! And you must be Star,” she says warmly. “Don’t you two look wonderful tonight?”
Star shifts awkwardly, her cheeks flushing, and I jump in to deflect the attention. “Star’s the reason I’m here at all,” I say with a grin. “Left to my own devices, I’d probably be at home with Sugar.”
Principal Bird laughs, but I’m focused on Star, hoping to ease her nerves. To my relief, she smiles — a small, hesitant smile, but a smile nonetheless.
The fire in my belly blazes higher at the sight. If I wasn’t certain before, I am now — I belong to this woman, if she’ll have me, and I’ll do anything to make her smile bright.