Page 37 of When We Were Younger

"Hmph. Hopefully the professional shots at the dance turn out better than these," my mother says in a tone that should probably be reserved for 'under the breath muttering' but nope. She says the quiet part out loud.

These photos are no good. That boy is no good. You are no good.

Three weeks. Just three more weeks until graduation, and then I'm done. I'm free of her.

I didn't bother applying to any universities. Even if I thought I was smart enough to get in, I'd never be able to afford it. Mom has too much money on paper for me to qualify for financial aid, and I would sooner die than take a penny from her once I graduate. Stephen is goingto The University of Knoxville and I'm going with him. He has to live in the dorms his freshman year, but I've got enough money saved, so I'm going to get an apartment in the city and take classes at the community college. Then next year when Stephen is a sophomore, he'll move in with me. Maybe my grades will be good enough that I can transfer to U-Knox and study event management, but I'm not counting on it. I don't care what I do for work. I'll try modeling or maybe acting. Hell, I'll sell pictures of my feet on the internet for money. I don't care. If it gets me out of this town and away from my mother, it will be worth it.

Stephen and I say our goodbyes while Mrs. Hudson cries tears of joy and my mom pretends like she doesn't already have her mind on the bottle of gin waiting for her in the freezer. Stephen helps me up into his truck, tucking the train of my dress in carefully so it doesn't catch in the door. He leans in and brushes a soft kiss to my nose before closing the door and rounding the front of the truck to the driver's side.

He queues upMidnight Memoriesby One Direction on the radio without me having to ask, and we belt out the lyrics toBest Song Everas he drives us right to the edge of town, where the Fairway Meadows Haven Country Club is lit up in our school's obnoxious red and black colors. A balloon arch sways in the breeze as the senior class and their dates pull up in limos, rented sports cars, and even a firetruck for the some of the soccer guys and their dates.

Stephen adjusts his bowtie–baby pink, of course, tomatch my dress and the Cornelia corsage on my wrist–then turns the key, cutting off the engine. I watch as our classmates filter out of their own rides and into the club. Girls take selfies with phone cameras, boys bump fists and show off hidden flasks in jacket pockets. The principal, two guidance counselors, and an array of teachers check tickets at the door, looking like overgrown cartoon characters in their suits and JCPenney dresses.

I can hear the faint sound of Pitbull blaring from the speakers inside, and a sense of dread starts to build in me. I barely tolerate half these people when I'm forced to spend time with them six hours a day, five days a week. Why in the hell am I willingly choosing to awkwardly dance to bad pop music on a beautiful Saturday night in a sweaty ballroom designed for boomers?

I grab Stephen's forearm as he reaches for the door handle.

"Stephen," I sigh.

"What is it babe?" he asks. He immediately goes into 'fix it' mode, turning his whole body towards me and cupping my cheek in his hand. I lean into his touch and take a breath.

"I don't want to go in there," I whine.

"Really?" he sounds confused but also a little excited. I lean in.

"Really. I think I'd rather gouge my eyes out than slow dance in front of our calc teacher. I'll pay you back for the tickets, let's just go somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"Sweetheart, you're not paying me back for anything. But shouldn't we go in, even for a bit?"

I take another glance at the front of the country club, where the crowd is thinning as our classmates make their way inside.

"My mom will be mad if we don't get that stupid picture from the photographer," I say.

"She'll be fucking pissed if you come home without it," he says, and my shoulders sag. He's right. I'm being a brat. It's prom, we should just-

"Dorothea, baby?" he says, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Let's piss off your mom," he smiles, then turns the key in the ignition and peels out of the parking lot.

A few hours,two Sprites, and a medium cheese pizza later, Stephen and I are laying out on our favorite orange flannel blanket watching the sky fade from orange to blue as the sun continues to disappear further and further into the horizon beyond our field of wildflowers.

We've both changed out of our stuffy prom clothes. He’s in a pair of black joggers and a Knoxville Crushers tee and I’m in black leggings and his old baseball hoodie. Outfits we had stashed in the back seat of histruck for emergencies–like skipping the prom, for instance.

After we left the country club, Stephen and I picked up the food and drinks and came right here to our spot. We've eaten, made out, listened to music, and stared at the sky together.

It's been the perfect night.

Now, he's on his back, one hand tucked behind his head and the other wrapped around me. His hand is underneath my hoodie, drawing lazy circles on the bare skin of my back. My head is on his chest, leg thrown over his as I cuddle into him and listen to his heartbeat keeping time with the crickets chirping.

"This might have been the best idea you've ever had, Dorothea," Stephen sighs quietly before leaning in and kissing the top of my head. I nuzzle into him, desperate to get closer.

"Better than the time I convinced you to skip fourth period history and sneak into the equipment shed with me last year?" I ask, poking him in the belly as he laughs. That was the day I wanted to try something I'd read from my favorite fan fiction author,Harrys_Georgia_Rose. Stephen had been hesitant to cut class, but his nerves were forgotten when I did all those wicked things to him with my mouth.

"Alright, fine. I don't think anything will be better thanthat," he cedes, tickling my hips and making me giggle. I tilt my head up and capture his mouth, swallowing his laugh and letting myself drown in the feeling of his lips on mine. This is my favorite thing inthe entire world, kissing Stephen. The way I feel inside when we come together, when he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, when his hands wander and his fingers caress me. He makes me see stars, and nothing compares.

I want more of it. More of him. I want everything, and I don't want to wait anymore.

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