Within/Without

chapter twelve.

Val - April 2015

We were late to the venue, half because Kenzo and the others insisted on taking way more pictures than was clearly necessary, and half because the traffic on the interstate was insane. Nevertheless, by the time we got to the hotel ballroom, it was brimming with people. Voices carried up to the ceiling, bounced off the walls. The very air seemed to hum with cologne and perfume, and everywhere I looked were flashes of sweat and glitter against skin.

Beside me, I heard Kenzo take in a long breath. When I glanced at him, his mouth opened into a grin, dark eyes glinting beneath his glasses. "Have I told you you look stunning tonight?"

I chuckled a little despite myself, adjusting my side ponytail. I'd wanted to wear my hair down, but Mom and Jo had insisted. "Yes," I said, because it was indeed the first thing he'd said when he picked me up from my front porch. "You have."

"Well, forgive me," Kenzo said, folding his hand in mine and dragging me towards the dance floor. "I just had to say it again."

I squealed a little as he spun me, my dress twirling about in a wave of navy blue. My mom and I had found it in a thrift store at the edge of the town, and though it had been nearly twice my size at the time, and had also been missing a strap, it was more than enough now. Fitted at the waist, the skirt flared into layers of satin blue that moved like the sea. I felt like a princess, which I suppose was how you were supposed to feel on your prom night.

People moved all around us, some dancing against each others' chests, some feeling for the rhythm, some eating each other's faces instead of dancing at all. The music hummed, the bass thudded; Kenzo spun me closer to him.

His broad hand found my waist. Kenzo was nothing if not terribly geeky; I'd thought so the first time I'd ever sat down next to him in chemistry class. His rectangular frames had done nothing to alleviate the constant glint of curiosity in his eyes, and once he was on a topic, there was no stopping him.

Now, though, I forgot how geeky he was. No one had ever looked at me like he did, ever held me like he did. He was a gentleman tonight. My gentleman. "You know," I shouted over the music, leaning closer to him, breathing in the earthy scent of him. "You surprised me when you asked if I wanted to come here with you."

His eyebrows rose, gold glinting against his dark skin. "Why was that surprising?"

I shrug. Catching sight of one of my other friends, Helen, across the venue, I waved at her briefly. "Doesn't seem like your kind of party!" I replied. "Too loud. Too many people."

"Correction," Kenzo said, pointing discreetly at one of the senior guys upchucking in a trashcan a few feet away. Kenzo and I both winced. "Too many drunk people."

The night had barely begun, and the guy had already drunk himself silly. You could really only feel kind of bad for him.

"So?" Kenzo said, and as he did, the loud, upbeat music petered out, returning again with a slower softer rhythm. The movement of the crowd slowed with it, and Kenzo and I glanced around briefly before he exhaled and pulled me closer still, furling my hand in his.

I tried to act like being this close to him wasn't killing me. I probably failed. "So what?" I asked, no longer having to shout.

Kenzo dipped his head, whispering in my ear: "If this doesn't seem like my kind of party, what does?"

The lights above our head dimmed slightly. I looked up at Kenzo, watching how his eyes mirrored the night sky and stars. "A couch."

"Ouch."

I laughed, resting my head against his chest, just over his heartbeat. "I mean—I feel like your ideal party would be by yourself, whether it's on a couch or in your room or in a coffee shop somewhere. You'd have your earbuds in, no doubt, and you'd either be watching some trashy sci-fi movie from the 80s or you'd be listening to weird alt stuff while you daydreamed."

"Hm," Kenzo said; underneath my ear, I felt his breath swell in his chest. "Not half-bad. But I'm not much of a sci-fi person, really. And you forgot the food!"

"I'll leave that to you."

"Okay. Sushi."

I looked up at him sharply. "Sushi? Are you trying to be hipster?"

"No," Kenzo said, a bit defensively. The music swayed and swirled around us; Kenzo and I moved with it, stepping in rhythm, resting in the beat of each other's hearts. I was peaceful. More peaceful than I had been in a long while. "I just like it."

I frowned a bit, mostly to myself. "I've met so many people over the years who have this strange liking for sushi. Over pizza, even. I don't get it. Must be some sort of epidemic."

It was slight, but I sensed him hesitate. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"No. Not necessarily. But over pizza, really?"

I expected him to say something, or at least laugh, but he was oddly silent. That was when I realized we'd drifted off towards the edge of the dance floor, where the crowd was thinner. I could take a breath and share it with only Kenzo, not anyone else.

"Val," he exhaled, tipping my chin up. Whatever words I wanted to say caught in my throat when he said my name, like a final breath from his lungs, a prayer shot up towards the sky. "Val, I...I know I told you that you look stunning, and you do. But that's just part of it."

"Part of..." I trailed off. His hand was still on my waist, holding me gently against him. I didn't want him to move. "Part of what?"

"Part of you, I guess," Kenzo said, then winced, and started again. "I mean: you're beautiful. I think it every time I look at you. But I also think of how kind you are. How strong, how fearless, how...how good."

"Kenzo?"

"Would you believe me if I said I'm in love with you?"

We were even further from the dance floor now, and the slow song was reaching its end. I was supposed to say something, do something, but I was frozen in Kenzo's arms, the words he'd just said drawing me to a stillness I'd never before experienced. That was a line said in a novel, or a poem. To one of the pretty white girls every boy lusted over at school. It was not a line said to me.

I didn't know what to say.

"Val?" Kenzo asked, squinting at me. "Val, are you okay?"

"Am I...okay? I guess I'm fine. I think I just—" I cut off, suddenly gripping Kenzo's arms more tightly. "Ken, you're shaking."

"I'm...?" He looked down at himself, only then seeming to realize that most of his body was shivering as if with cold, from his shoulders down to his feet. He tore away from me, hugging his arms around himself. It was a peculiar gesture, almost as if he was hiding more from himself than from me. "Shit. Shit. I'm sorry, Val. I'm so sorry."

Before I could even ask if he was okay, he was gone, bolting through the crowd around the dessert table and busting through the ballroom doors.

And as the night went on, as I found some more of my friends to talk with and dance with, as the city outside hummed to life, I waited for him. I kept waiting for him. Watching the doors, hoping he'd walk back in. He never did.

I didn't see Kenzo again for weeks.