Page 6 of Edge of Forever

Kirsten frowns. “No… are we swimming? I spent like four hours getting my hair and makeup done!”

Gina giggles. “You do you, girlfriend. I plan to be in a bikini by midnight!”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Tony says, nodding.

“We’ll see,” Kirsten hedges. “Hey, there’s Cathryn and Mark.” She tugs my arm and we go in another direction.

It’s like that for the next half hour as I meet people I’m probably never going to see again and let her work the room.

Finally, it’s time for dinner and we settle at a table for ten. Gina, Tony, Cathryn, Mark, and what appears to be Kirsten’s inner circle. They’re nice enough, and I’m glad they don’t seem overly concerned that I not only don’t attend their school, I’m five or six years older than all of them.

I’ve gotten a few dirty looks from teachers and chaperones, but I’ve just kept my head down and tried to stay inconspicuous.

“Do you dance, Sam?” Gina asks as we’re finishing dinner.

“I will for Kirsten,” I reply.

“See!” She elbows Tony. “He’ll dance for Kirsten—why won’t you dance with me?”

“Because I’ll embarrass both of us,” he responds dryly.

“I. Don’t. Care.” Gina’s already standing up, holding out her hand.

He seems torn but then shrugs. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“You ready to dance?” I ask Kirsten.

The dance floor is filling up.

“I am.” She gets up and slips her hand into mine.

It’s so easy to be together.

I’ve been single for a while but I’ve had girlfriends, and none of them were as easy to be with as Kirsten is. She’s young and inexperienced in some ways, but she’s lived a lot too. She’s had more success than I have and probably makes a lot more money.

And yet, when we’re together it feels natural.

The DJ turns up the music and everyone swarms to the dance floor for Bruno Mars’ “Uptown Funk.” I twirl her around a few times and we laugh as we move to the beat. Despite not attending my own prom because I thought it was stupid, I can’t deny I’m having fun. Kirsten’s friends are sweet and laid-back, their boyfriends don’t seem to be interested in any pissing contests with me, and the energy in the room is almost tangible.

When the DJ puts on Taylor Swift’s “Love Story,” every female in the room—including chaperones and hotel staff—sing every single word at the top of their lungs and I can’t help but join in. I wouldn’t call myself a Swiftie, but it’s a good song.

“You know Taylor Swift songs?” Kirsten yells in my ear, laughing.

“I’d have to be dead not to know her stuff,” I say.

Then the music slows down, and Kirsten moves into my arms like we’ve done this a hundred times. Her slim body presses against mine, and I wrap both arms around her, keeping my hands just above her curvy little ass. There’s a time and a place to cop a feel; this isn’t it.

Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” filters through the room, and I can’t help but feel like fate is telling me something. I’ve never been much of a romantic, so this is all new. Something about being with Kirsten brings out a softer side of me, and I’m not sure what it’s about.

Maybe it’s because I know what she wants to happen tonight and I want it to be everything she wants it to be.

Everything my first time was not.

Definitely not in the back seat of a beat-up old Honda.

Hopefully without any broken condoms or tears or regrets.

I want more for her.

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