𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐱

stars are beautiful,
but they may not take
part in anything,
they must just look on
forever
-J.M. Barrie

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I spend my morning stocking shelves at the bookstore. There's been a delivery of new books, so the place is a disaster. Boxes everywhere, some half emptied, some left untouched. And of course, every student on campus decides to stop by.

The place is swarming. There's sweat on my forehead. Me and Ash are drowning in boxes, books, and unpaid fees. "Swap," Ash cries. "You're on register."

I look to a line at the counter, it's nearly out the front door. I sigh and take over. Angry students, too busy with midterms to wait their turn. I'm called more than a few bad names, and have to plaster on my best fake smile. By the time the crowd dies down, I'm exhausted: physically and emotionally. My social battery is totally drained.

Until I see Tenny.

He's smiling. That same wide, toothy smile that makes my stomach flip. He walks to the register, there's a box of red-vines in his hand. He hands them to me. "I'd bring coffee, but you don't like that."

I lean across the counter and kiss him on the cheek. "Thank you, Tenny."

He rests on his elbow. "So, do you want to hangout, later?" he asks, and I smile. It feels like old times, when things were easy. And it was me and him, against the world. I nod my head. "Cool, because I was thinking I could take you on a real date."

"A date?" I wrinkle my face. Me and Tenny never went on dates. I try to picture him in a button-up shirt, in the old Italian restaurant Dalton used to take me to. But it doesn't quite fit. I shrug. "I guess that could be fun."

He frowns. "Unless you don't want to?"

"No, no—I want to," I say, and I kiss him on the cheek, once more. "I'll see you after my shift?" And he nods. He kisses me again, before he leaves.

When I turn around, Ash is staring at me. "That's not Weatherstone," they announce, and for some reason, the mention of Dalton stings more than it should have.

"No, I'm not with him, anymore."

"You didn't tell me that."

I shrug. We weren't particularly close—and aside from Frankie and Tenny, I hadn't told anyone about me and Dalton. It all happened so fast, and now Tenny happened so fast. I'm not sure anyone would understand it. The look on Ash's face tells me they don't understand it.

I tell myself it doesn't matter, because we understand it. I'm happy, and Tenny is happy. He wants to take me on a date, and I want to go on that date. And I have finally said what I really wanted, out loud. What else really matters?

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

March 2016,

After my panic attack, Tenny kept wanting to talk about it.

But the only thing I wanted to do was run from it. I brushed him off, every single time. Sometimes by kissing him. Sometimes by avoiding him in the halls. Sometimes by drinking. And after a while, Tenny stopped talking, altogether.

He just held my hand. Ran his hand through my hair. Let me lay on his chest.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

I knock on Tenny's door, after my shift. I've showered, washed the sweat out of my hair and removed the ink from my hands. I ran a brush through my hair, for what felt like the first time in weeks, and there is pink blush on my cheeks.

Tenny smiles when he sees me.

"I thought maybe you would have changed your mind," he says, and I shake my head.

"I'm done with that."

He nods, but his eyes don't quite meet mine. I try to ignore the pull that gives my heart, because we've moved past all of that; the second guessing and the searching for double meanings. I put on a smile. "So, what do you have planned?"

Tenny rubs the back of his neck; he's nervous, and that makes my stomach flutter. "I've never really done this before," he says. "We never went on dates."

"Sure, but you've gone on dates."

"Not really."

I stare at the floor. I picture Tenny's life after everything—after me. It isn't the first time I've imagined this, but I before I always imagined him happier, healed. From me. But now I wonder how much damage I really caused him. Had there not been anyone after me? Had I ruined him that badly?

"I have a place," I say. "Where we could go—I think you would like it."

He smiles. "I thought I was supposed to plan the date?"

"Well, we've never done things by the book."

And I'm grabbing him by the hand, dragging him out of Pittman, along the paved pathways and across campus.

There's a park, a block away from the University. Frankie showed me it; she was on a fitness kick and thought it would be the perfect place for morning runs. She was right about the atmosphere, but grossly miscalculated our running abilities. We only went one time. But I think about the scenery, often.

The park has this big pond, right in the center. And there's a dock where you can walk out and watch the ducks. The sunlight dances on the water, and the smell of algae and rainwater is that of nostalgia. It makes me think of Tenny and that river where we used to escape.

Tenny understands as soon as he sees it: the water and the sounds of croaking bullfrogs. We run down to the dock and kick off our shoes. It's a Monday, and it's late evening so there's no one around. Just me and Tenny, sat at the end of the dock, toes hovering above the water.

I squeal because the water is cold. Tenny laughs at me, throws his head back and laughs one of those full body laughs like he used to do when we were kids. I think it's the sweetest sound I've ever heard. He's a picture in a movie: messy hair, golden from the sun.

I take his hand, lace my fingers through his.

We talk about books. We talk about old movies. We talk about airplanes and the stars. We talk about everything and nothing, all at once. And it feels like time has warped, I've gone back to being sixteen, Tenny chattering on my hardwood floor—I've gone back to being ten, me and Tenny with our toes in the mud.

It's easy, and it's us.

Me and Tenny, hiding out by the water, making everything else disappear.

My head is resting on his shoulder. The sun begins its descent, illuminating the sky in a cotton-candy pink that bleeds into the water. "I want you to meet Frankie," I say to him.

He wrinkles his nose. "I've already met Frankie."

"Yeah, but not while you've been my Tenny," I argue. "I want her to know you the way that I know you. I want you both to be friends."

He nods, but then he smiles. "You called me your Tenny."

I look at him, brush a curl out of his eyes. "Yeah," I say. "And the sun is still out." And I lay my head back on his shoulder. Because now he knows what I know: that he is mine, and I am his. The way it should have always been.

And this time, I won't mess everything up.

...
Author's Note:

What's your perfect first date?

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Thanks for reading.
Xx