Chapter Forty-one
Flora
You know that moment in romantic comedies when the guy and the girl spot each other across a crowded room? Their eyes cut past all the irrelevant people, the background noise fades, and everything turns to slow motion. Strangers step aside in a trance to make way for them.
Yeah, that’s not what happens. But Sean does find me from across the gym. And from the safety of this distance, I let myself stare back. He’s temptation in a suit, and I am nothing if not weak. As he moves closer, my pulse quickens.
Is this a fresh start or our grand finale? Is he here to talk or just extending a polite courtesy—one last dance before we fade to black?
And now he’s right in front of me, tall and lean, and the color of his tie even matches my dress.
“Would you like to dance?” His voice is soft, but it carries great power.
I can’t speak. It’s a simple sentence, but coming from him, it can unravel me. I place one hand on his shoulder, and he takes my other hand. We both halt at the touch. With us, everything carries an undertone of intimacy. A dance isn’t just a dance, and fingers are more than fingers.
His other hand slides onto my back, resting below my shoulder blades. My body tightens as his palm warms my bare skin. We start moving to the music, and I relish being so rightfully close to him.
“You look great in silver, Flora.”
I shake my head, deeply disappointed. “Sean, I expected better from you. This is gunmetal gray.”
He smiles and it stops my heart. It’s a real smile, the kind that’s been in short supply lately.
“So this dance . . .” I gaze up at him. “Does this mean you’re ready to be friends, or is this the last time you’re going to talk to me?”
“If we’re being honest . . . I want to be friends eventually, but right now I just want to dance with you. One more time.”
“Okay.” A letdown, although not unexpected. We move in silence for a while before I speak again. “I keep pushing for your friendship because if I didn’t, you’d let us fade out. You’ll go to college and never contact me again.”
He doesn’t answer. I’m right.
“Just so you know,” I say, “I’m an excellent friend.”
He gives me a faint smile and spins me around. “No doubt about it.”
“If you need help throwing another party or picking out the right bottle of wine . . .”
“Or scoring front-row seats to another game.”
“Exactly! It never hurts to have connections in very influential circles. And if you ever visit New York again, I’ll give you suggestions on restaurants and attractions.”
“I can consult my other friend, Tripadvisor.” He glances at the overhead speaker and frowns, his lips twitching slightly. “When’s this song ever going to end? You’re annoying me.”
His arms tighten around my waist. I tilt my head. “Weird, considering you once said you wanted me in your life for as long as I was willing to stay.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I can’t stay in your life as a friend? We don’t have to abide by the muscle fiber’s all-or-none law.”
“What?”
I sigh, pretending to be impatient. “Sean, don’t you know anything?
When you stimulate a muscle fiber, if the stimulus is strong enough to exceed the limit, then the muscle fiber will respond.
It either responds fully or not at all. Like you.
It’s either ‘love you forever’ or ‘never speak to me again,’ which is silly, because you’re a human being, not a muscle fiber. You should have at least some nuance.”
He blinks, and then he starts to smile. “I seriously can’t keep up with your science knowledge anymore.”
“You might as well say yes now, or I’ll keep nagging you.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll start by returning your texts. Don’t push it.”
We fall silent, wrapped in each other’s arms. The rest of the world melts away.
This is why people love dancing. It’s a chance to hold a hot guy who doesn’t belong to you for a few shimmering minutes of heaven.
The song ends too soon, like a merry-go-round cut off midloop. Sean pulls away, taking the warmth with him. But I can’t dance in his arms forever.
“Thanks for the dance,” he says.
“My pleasure.”
We’ve stepped apart, but he’s still looking at me, like he’s not ready to let go either.
My head is filled with a tangled ball of thoughts, where every thread starts with his name.
When I leave tonight, it’ll be final. Right now, we’re trapped in limbo, where nothing has ended and nothing new has begun.
I take a step closer. “Hey. Want to get out of here?”
* * *
He doesn’t ask where we’re going, and he’s not surprised when we stop at the swimming pool. Entering without breaking again for old times’ sake, a tribute to our first homecoming together.
He hoists me up, steadying me as I climb over the fence.
“Don’t try to look up my dress.”
He smiles and shrugs. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen already.”
We sit by the pool, enjoying our private party.
I kick off my heels, toss my purse onto a lounge chair, and dip my feet into the water.
Sean shrugs off his jacket. With graduation looming so near, this might as well be the last night for everything, for recollection, for prospection, and for sneaking peeks at Sean with his tie loose and the sleeves rolled up.
“You’re going to kill it at MIT.”
“You’ll love NYU too. You’ll make friends in no time, but at first, it won’t be like high school.
You won’t see the same people all the time.
Everyone’s on a different schedule and some days, it might feel like you’re on your own.
” His eyes are unreadable under the dark lashes.
“Just—make sure you enjoy your own company too.”
“Solid advice.”
He’s worried about me. He still cares even though I’m not his problem anymore. I look up at the stars, missing him already.
“God, I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I’m doing it again—telling you what to do like I have all the answers. I keep slipping into guidance counselor mode. Please ignore me.”
“Hey, I don’t mind some good old-fashioned Seansplaining,” I tease, elbowing him lightly. He sounds genuinely guilty. “Whatever will I do without you as my Northern Star?”
“You’ll cope, just like I’ll survive without your Florazzle-dazzle every five seconds.” He smiles faintly. “Seriously though, I’m sorry for always trying to fix things. I didn’t know how else to show up for you. And I messed up a lot.”
“You did show up. More than anyone ever has. And it’s not your fault I idolized you, but you never abused it.”
“Still, I benefited from it. I didn’t pay enough attention to the silent sacrifices you were making. Sometimes I was overbearing, and I steamrolled you more than once. Thanks for indulging my savior complex.” He exhales. “Anyway, this is my thesis on why I’m not as perfect as you thought I was.”
“Give yourself some credit. I’m not exactly low-maintenance.
I craved independence, but also admiration, approval, and constant attention.
I was like, Push me to be better, but gently and only when I’m in the mood!
Let’s be real, that’s a lot for anyone. You were seventeen, prepping for MIT on five hours of sleep, and tackling this relationship on expert mode.
A lesser man wouldn’t have been as patient as you were. ”
“You give me endless grace, Flora.”
“No, I mean it. We had a good run. A plus for effort.”
“Indeed. A plus for effort.”
I hold out my hand, palm up between us, and he high-fives it.
There is still camaraderie between us, and no one else will truly understand how hard we both tried.
It’s a cloudless night and the air is serene.
The water ripples and moonlight casts a shadow along his jawline.
How fortunate that it was him on this intense, messy journey with me, and we came out the other side with no bitterness, no regrets.
A spur of the moment idea hits me. Standing up, I beckon for him to join me. “Let me show you something I discovered the other day.”
Sean gives me a wary glance but humors me. I lead him to the pool’s edge, right near the deep end. The tiles are cool under my feet as I turn to face him, leaning in just a little. “Remember the first time we broke in here together?”
He nods. “Sure.”
“Do you remember what you said to me?”
“I said a lot of things.”
“You made me promise something.”
“To date me exclusively?”
I flash him my sweetest smile. “No. Not to push you into the pool.”
With that, I plant my palms on his chest and shove.
It’s such a stupid, reckless thing to do, and I’d do it again if I could.
Not because of the sheer shock on his face or the way his soaked shirt clings to him when he resurfaces.
Not because his dark hair mats against his forehead, making his eyes more enticing than ever.
Not even because when he hauls himself out of the pool, he says to me in a harshly sexy tone that I should surrender myself now before he has to chase me.
And definitely not because of how easily he lifts me, arms clasped around my waist, before tossing me straight into the water.
It’s because when we start splashing each other, he laughs.
And my heart takes off.
I’d do it a thousand times over to hear that again. Making him happy is one of the things that makes me ridiculously happy, and I watch his face with my chest full.
I love Sean. I love making him laugh. I can live without his kisses—probably—but I hope he’ll always share his happiness with me.
“You’re every bit as chaotic as I remembered, Flora Morgan.” He helps me out of the pool and pushes his wet hair out of his eyes.
“At least I made sure your phone wasn’t on you. That’s proper etiquette.”
We’re both drenched, water dripping from our clothes as we make our way to my car. My dress, now practically see-through, clings to me.
“Did you drive?” I ask.
“No, we took Josie’s car, but she left with Brian already.”
“Then let me give you a ride.”
“Thanks.”
“You can dry off at my place if you want. We can head to Ray’s after.”
Sean stops in front of my car, running a palm along the hood. He doesn’t say anything.
We spent so much time in my Mercedes. Late nights, post-game exhaustion, the quiet rhythm of his breathing filling the space between us.
I used to pick him up after games and let him crash in the passenger seat, watching his chest rise and fall as he dozed.
When he finally woke up, groggy and apologetic—Sorry, I’m such a boring boyfriend—I’d shut him up with a kiss and make out with him until he was thoroughly convinced he wasn’t boring at all.
Then we’d go up to his room and make out some more.
“God, I miss this . . .” He pauses. “. . . car.”
“You waste this car’s potential. You drive under twenty-five miles per hour.”
“I don’t drive under twenty-five,” he says, scowling. Then he smiles. “Only in school zones.”
I laugh. “God, I love you”—I catch myself—“your sense of humor.”
His hand brushes the door handle, hesitates. Then he pulls it back. “Actually, maybe I’ll see you later at the party.”
“Why can’t we go together?”
His eyes are clear and honest, like a shallow pool I can see right through. “Because I still think about you in ways I’m not supposed to.”
The words land between us unpolished. Not flirty. Not teasing. I can’t remember the last time he was this blunt.
A hot, aching pulse runs through me, and for a split second, I almost reach for his hand. “We don’t have to stay friends.” It comes out quieter than I expect, like a door creaking open.
His hesitation is brief, and he gazes at me with so much tenderness.
“I think it’ll be best if you go to NYU without me holding you back.
You’ve worked so hard to get here, and you should be free to do whatever you want.
Explore the city. Make friends. Go on a few horrible dates so you have stories to tell . . .”
His eyes trace my face, like he’s trying to memorize it, like he won’t be seeing me for a long time. It’s a goodbye in disguise. A lump rises in my throat. I blink rapidly, but the tears come anyway.
“I mean it,” he says. “I still . . . you mean everything to me, Flora. This isn’t me saying no to you. This is the best thing I can offer you right now.”
“You’re saying it like you want us to both move on and forget each other.”
“I want you to be happy. I know this sucks right now, but you’ll be okay. You’ll be more than okay.”
I want Sean to be happy too. I really do.
He steps closer then pulls me into his arms. The wet fabric of his shirt is cool against my cheek. I circle his waist, and he hugs me back, like pouring out every ounce of love he’s allowed to give me.
I can’t tell how much time passes. Seconds. Hours. A lifetime.
His lips brush my ear. “I’ll never forget you. You’re the best, baby.”
The word baby breaks me apart. A shiver runs through me, and tears sting my eyes. I sob against him until I have no sounds left. He rubs the back of my head, then my back, then gives me one last squeeze before he breaks away. “Thank you for the perfect prom night.”
I nod, unable to choke out a single syllable.
“But you ruined my suit and I’m sending you the dry-cleaning bill.” His lips curl up and he looks cuter than ever.
This boy will forever be the death of me. As I watch his retreating back, the moonlight washing over his shoulders, it hits me. Sean never promised to stay friends or said whether I could contact him again. The strangest, most conflicting emotions crash against me, both equally strong.
One part of me believes I’ll never get over him.
That I’ll wait until he’s ready, and take whatever he can offer me—as an acquaintance, a friend, or something more.
But at the same time, I imagine him as a beautiful deer in the forest, one that makes this world a better place simply by existing.
I don’t need to mount it on my living room wall.
I don’t need to own him.
He doesn’t need to be mine.
Sharing a part of myself with him, however brief, has been enough. Wherever he ends up in the world, I’ll think of him with nothing but fondness, knowing I haven’t wasted a single ounce of my love on him.
I start my car. My dress sticks to my body and I’m eager to get home to a hot shower. At the intersection, the road is empty. Not a single car in sight.
The light shifted from yellow to red only a millisecond ago. I can run it. I almost do, then step on the brakes hard. The car screeches to a halt.
I flick on the blinker.
As the tap, tap, tap of it echoes in the darkness, I scan the empty road in front of me and say to the night, “Thank you, dear Sean.”