I hate my fucking dad.
Can you comeover later?
-Matt
A pang hits my chest.
That time period was brutal for Matt. Middle school is where he and his dad really started butting heads. There was a lot of shouting. A lot of fighting. Slammed doors. Swearing.
Thank God it only got physical the one time. But that one time was physical enough to make sure it was the only time.
My stomach knots thinking about that day. When we walked in on his dad.
The way Matt snapped. I’d never seen him like that.
He was just being Matt. Protecting his mom. He’s loyal like a German Shepard. He’d die for the people he loves.
My heart constricts. He’s gone to bat for me more than once.
I dig through the box, my fingers diving deeper—into my past,ourpast. Old dance pictures. Ones of me, Jensen, and Matt eating ice-cream. Birthday cards.
I reach the bottom and spot a small turquoise jewelry box. I pull it out slowly, nostalgia hitting so sharply it stings behind my eyes.
I open it and smile at the tiny silver ring inside. I lift it out. The soft piece of metal weighs nothing in comparison to the memories it holds.
M+J forever.
Warmth spreads through my chest.
I can’t believe I still have this. I remember that day like it was yesterday.
Matt had asked me to meet him by the tree out front of the school after the bell rang.
So I did.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I said back.
We were seven.
“I got this for you.”
He pulled out the box.
Then he got down on one knee.
“Will you marry me?”
I answered immediately.
“I can’t. I’m getting married when I’m seventeen.”
Never said I was a genius.
“Will you marry me when you’re seventeen?”
“Sure,” I replied.
