Not intentional. Just... the side effect of being completely smittenandrunning on four total hours of sleep.
Now, watching it all unfold, it hits me that it was worth every sleepless hour.
The place is alive—soft golden lights spilling from the ceiling, glitter catching in the air like it's snowing sparkles. Everyone's laughing, shouting, dancing like they just got thrown back into high school.
The DJ's blastingOpaliteby Taylor Swift, and I swear half the crowd's belting the lyrics like it's a full-on concert.
People are spinning each other around, a few girls are half-screaming the bridge, someone's waving a glow stick like a sword. It's chaotic, loud, magical—and somehow perfect.
And right there in the middle of it all isher.
Caroline.
She's dancing with Sam and a few of her girlfriends, hair bouncing with every turn, her dress flaring around her likeliquid starlight. She's laughing—god, that laugh—and for a second I forget the rest of the world exists.
I'm sitting at one of the tables with the guys—half-listening to whatever they're rambling about—but my eyes?
Haven't moved once from the dance floor.
Not once.
I can't even fight the stupid grin on my face. It's like my cheeks have signed a contract to stay this way forever. Seeing her this happy—so free, so alive—it's addictive.
Feels like watching sunlight learn how to dance.
This right here is what should've happened three years ago.
Her glowing under the lights, laughing with her friends, and me leaving prom with her—not as her best friend, but as her boyfriend. That's how I always pictured it.
No point dwelling on what didn't happen, though. Even if it took three years, I still got the girl.
I'm still walking out of prom with her by my side— asmygirlfriend.
Dreams really do come true.
God, I'm so fucking cheesy it hurts. But whatever. Everyone's like this when they're in love.
And maybe I'm smiling too much, but sue me. My heart's been going absolutely feral in my chest ever since she said yes earlier.
Caroline Pennington.My girlfriend.
I keep replaying it in my head like a broken record: she's mine.
She's actually mine.
If joy had a volume knob, mine's been cranked tofull send.
It's ridiculous.
I'm sitting here with my chin propped on my hand, grinning at her like she hung the stars herself. But honestly? I don't care.
Because this—her smiling, spinning, throwing her head back in laughter—is like watching the universe show off.
Every once in a while, her gaze flickers to me. Just for a heartbeat.
And when our eyes meet, I feel it—the electric pull, that stupid invisible string between us tightening all over again.
She grins.
