Page 112 of The Very First Night

“It’s a sled!” she argues.

“It looks like an actual piece of poop.”

Her head cocks to the side, her eyes fixated on the old ornament. After studying it for a moment, she turns her attention back to the neatly wrapped presents beneath the tree. With a grin on her face, she plucks a square box from the pile and marches toward me with purpose. “You’re right, it does kind of look like a turd.” She says it so matter-of-factly as she drops the box into my lap.

I gesture to the brightly wrapped Christmas gift that sits near her usual spot in our cramped living room. “That one is yours.”

I tug my legs up onto the couch, crossing them beneath me. I begin to pick at the corner of the Santa wrapping paper, waiting for my mom to eagerly tear into her own gift before I even think about unwrapping mine.

My mom grips the edges of the wrapping paper with determination, her hands steady as she pulls it apart. The small, elongated box is wrapped in a deep burgundy velvet and I can see the jewelry store’s metallic gold logo on the side. She sets it down carefully on the coffee table.

“Katarina,” she reprimands softly.

“Go ahead, open it,” I urge, my excitement bubbling over. I had insisted on making a stop at the jewelry store in town after seeing my dad the other day. Now, seeing the look on her face, I know it was worth it.

Despite the way her hands tremble and her eyes dart back and forth between the box and me, she reaches out to grab it. With a sharp tug, the lid flies open. A hushed gasp escapes her lips as she lifts out a dainty silver locket. Inside, there is a photo of her holding me as a baby on one side and another from my high school graduation on the other.

Tears well up in her eyes as she gazes down at the sentimental treasure. “It’s perfect,” she whispers, not prying her eyes away from her newest prized possession until finally she looks at me. “Now open yours.”

Excitement pulses through me as I eagerly tear at the wrapping paper, revealing a white box with a glossy image of a camera lens on the side. My heart flutters as I read the familiar letters: EF 70-200mm f/2.8. It’s the lens I’ve been looking at for months, which I was planning to buy for myself as a graduation present.

A wave of guilt washes over me as I realize how much money my mom must have spent on this gift. “Mom, this is too much,” I say, gently setting the lens down on the table. “You should take it back.”

But she just smiles and shakes her head, insisting that she wanted to get me something special this year since I graduate in the spring.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize how much thought and love went into this present. Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I stand up and wrap my arms tightly around her, whispering “Thank you” in her ear.

FIFTY-SIX

KAT

As much as I long to cling to my college years, spring semester flies by faster than I could have imagined. After returning from winter break, every week was packed with exams, projects, and social events. And now, standing in a hotel room forty-five minutes away from campus, just three weeks away from graduation, my throat tightens with an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and fear for the future.

When Tanner first mentioned the formal for his fraternity last month, I imagined a dingy, run-of-the-mill frat house. But as we step inside the beautiful hotel in Cleveland, I’m in awe. A grand chandelier hangs over the entryway, casting a golden glow on the marble floors. The walls are decorated with elegant paintings, and mahogany desks line the left side of the room. As I walk across the sparkling tiles, I can’t help but wonder if they’re made of actual glitter.

Tanner strides up to the front desk, introducing himself and handing over his ID and credit card. The receptionist hands him a room key. As we make our way to our designated room, I can sense the potential for chaos brewing in the air.

Tanner reaches for the door, but before he can insert his keycard, Elijah comes into view with a petite blonde on his arm, heading toward the room next to ours. My heart sinks as I realize the cosmic joke in store for us: sharing a wall with Elijah Hanas.

“I didn’t expect it to be this…fancy,” I laugh as I set down my bag inside the door and Tanner closes the door behind him.

“Yeah, well, we have Governor Hanas to thank for that,” Tanner replies with a wince, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. He explains how Elijah’s father donated money specifically for this event, wanting to make his son’s senior year unforgettable.

“Of course he did,” I mumble as I move my suitcase to the stand in the corner of the room before sifting through its contents.

Tanner sits on the edge of his bed, already half-dressed and casually sipping a beer. He said we have an hour and a half to get ready before we need to head downstairs, and I’d bet money he only needs ten minutes of that.

After over an hour of primping, I emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of hairspray. My freshly ironed curls cascade down my back, and my makeup is elegant yet understated, thanks to countless YouTube tutorials Jenna has been sending me for the past couple weeks. I step into the room in my bra and underwear in pursuit of my off-the-shoulder cobalt cocktail dress, which I bought especially for this event last week.

“Sweetheart.” Tanner’s voice is husky and inviting and I know without looking at him what he’s insinuating.

I playfully dodge his reaching hands as I dart forward to grab the dress from on top of my suitcase and pull it on. I know we have to hurry if we want to make it downstairs on time. But damn, that bed looks awfully tempting as I pass him sitting on it.

He takes the hint in stride, keeping his attention on the television and the cold beer in his hand, but I don’t miss the way his eyes keep drifting over to me as I pull the stretchy fabric over my frame. Once it’s on and I’m almost ready, I sit down on the bed next to him to fasten my heels.

“Let me,” he says and sets his beer on the bedside table to kneel in front of me, his button-down shirt open to reveal his toned chest peeking out from the neckline of his undershirt. His eyes scan my body appreciatively before he reaches for my black stiletto heel, running his fingers along the delicate ankle strap. I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin as he leans closer and firmly grasps my ankle in his hand.

“Is this a foot thing?” I crinkle my nose.

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