by Lindsey Iler
“What a positive dream to have.”
We laugh, and when we look at each other, our laughter only deepens. I haven’t laughed this hard in months. Being carefree is always easy around her. It’s as if she has this magical talent of relaxing those around her, and making us all believe the good in the world and there are things worth truly laughing about.
“Do you want to get out of here?” she asks, surprising herself and me. Her wide eyes resemble my own.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”
Kennedy follows me to my car, and as we open the doors, our names are called. Violet and Dan are on the sidewalk. Kennedy’s eyes flash to me and widen with humor.
“What do we do?” I whisper. I glance over the top of the car to see their skeptical eyes on us.
“Hold on, you guys,” Violet shouts. They step off the curb and close in on us.
“Get in the car,” I demand to Kennedy.
“What?” There’s laughter on her tongue, making me smirk.
I point to her side of the car. “Get in the car.” My eyes shift back to Violet and Dan. “And hurry. Violet’s about to jump in the backseat if you don’t get your ass in there.”
I slide into my seat, put the keys in the ignition, and wait.
Kennedy squeals as she swings open the passenger side door and jumps in beside me. “Go! Go!” Her hands motion me forward.
The gear shifts down into drive and I peel out of the parking lot. We aren’t two minutes down the road when Kennedy’s phone chimes again and again until we pull out onto the highway to Nashville.
“Where are you kidnapping me to?” Kennedy asks as I merge into traffic.
“Figured you could use some bright lights in your life.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and her head shakes at my theatrics.
Kennedy pops open the glove compartment, takes out my iPod, and runs her finger over the screen until she finds a song she likes. The familiar beat plays through my stereo. The wind blowing through her hair, Kennedy dances. Song after song, and with every new one, her smile brightens. Every thirty seconds or so, I glance over to reassure myself she’s real. Kennedy and I haven’t spent much real time alone since last year. It’s strange to have her in my space again. To have her at arm’s length is surreal.
“Dance with me,” Kennedy begs. Her body turns in my direction. I take a sideways glance at her and she grins.
“I don’t dance,” I admit, ashamed at how true the statement is.
“You don’t dance, like you refuse to, or you can’t dance, like it’s physically too painful to watch?” Kennedy jokes. A sweet chuckle falls from her lips.
I bite my tongue. “I can’t believe I’m about to admit this.” My head shakes back and forth. “I’ve never danced.”
Kennedy’s boisterous laughter fills the small space. I take the next exit and park on the side of the road. Once my seatbelt is unbuckled, I shift to face her. Her head falls to the headrest and her mouth gapes at my embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” she states through clenched lips as she tries a little harder to suppress her excitement over my confession. “No, seriously, I’m sorry for laughing so hard.” Kennedy dries the happy tears streaming down her face.
“You’re still laughing,” I say, matter-of-fact.
“Okay,” Kennedy’s voice rises to a high pitch. “Okay, I’m done. You seriously have never danced? What about Homecoming and those type of things you obviously went to.”
“How do you know I went to any dances? I don’t remember seeing those dancer legs on the floor cutting a rug.” I playfully fight back.
“Cutting a rug? What are you, my eighty-year-old grandmother? And I saw pictures in the yearbook.” Kennedy’s eyes fall to her hands in her lap.
“I never danced,” I mutter under my breath.
“You went and just leaned against the wall?”
“Not exactly. The girls didn’t exactly invite me for my dancing skills.” I wink over at her.
“Charming.” Kennedy’s contagious laugh echoes through the space. “Get out of the car.” Her voice is loud and demanding.
“What?” My eyes scan our deserted location.
“Get out of the car, Graham.”
I get out and walk over to the passenger side door to wait for her. She scans through the playlist before she exits.
“What are we doing out here?” I ask, skeptical of our surroundings.
“I’m going to teach you how to dance,” Kennedy states. She sounds thrilled with the idea. I, on the other hand, am not.
“Here?” My eyes scan the tall grass grown on the outer edge of the exit ramp.
“Yes, here.” Kennedy reaches to me and I laugh out of discomfort as my hand instinctively grasps hold of hers. She closes the small gap between us until our bodies are flush together.
“What am I supposed to do now?” I look at our linked hands.
Kennedy guides my left hand to her lower back, as her right finds comfort on my shoulder. Her left hand grabs my right and she extends them out beside us. Kennedy wiggles my stiff arm.
“You need to relax,” Kennedy commands. “Dancing is meant to be enjoyable, so you might want to wipe the dread off your lips and just smile.”
“I’m nervous,” I admit, staring down at my toes.
“Of?”
“You.”
“Graham, you’ve seen me naked. I’m positive you can handle dancing with me.”
“That’s sort of the point.” My eyes widen.
“You make me nervous, too, you know. You’ve seen me at my weakest, and a part of me will always feel weak in your eyes.”
I don’t say anything at her insecurities. Her eyes shift down to our feet and then find mine.
“You’re doing it. You’re dancing,” she says, her previous comment forgotten.
I’m dancing.
With Kennedy.
On the side of the road.
The world stops as I take in the moment.
“How did we get here?” I ask.
Kennedy’s eyes dance around my face. “You drove,” she answers, a near whisper of her tongue.
“No, I mean, how did you and I get here? How did we become strangers?” I ask, desperation dripping from my words.
“We aren’t strangers, but we aren’t the same kids we were last year. In a blink of an eye, everything changed. You changed, I changed, and no one is to blame,” Kennedy pleads for my understanding.
“Someone’s to blame for it,” I mutter.
I don’t say his name. I don’t ever say his name. The way Kennedy’s eyes widen, I know she understands what I mean.
“Perhaps, but he’s not a worry of mine anymore.” She squeezes my hand.
My fingertips glide up and down her spine as I pull her in closer. Goosebumps appear on her pale skin. Her eyes meet mine and I see the two people who once loved each other are still inside of us.
“You’re the only person I can confide in,” I confess my worst nightmare.
Kennedy arches her back to look me in the eyes. “I’m still here, Graham. I’m always going to be here. Even when I’m in New York, I’ll be a phone call away.”
I pull her back into me. “So, you made a decision, then?” I whisper into her hair.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice is full of worry as she avoids my eyes. She knows I’ve seen the letter.
I groan. “Georgia, Kennedy. I know you applied.”
“I think we both know it was a shot in the dark. I was grasping at straws.” Her eyes narrow.
“Would you have gone? I mean, if last year never happened, and you and I were still us. Would you have gone to Georgia? Given it all up for me?”
“I would’ve followed you anywhere, Graham.” Kennedy’s eyes sadden.
“And now?” I beg, afraid of what her answer will be.
“And now, I’m giving it all up for me.”
I move our joined hands to wipe away the single tear that falls. I can’t
let go of her because I’m afraid this is the last time I’ll never hold her like this again. “You should be selfish. Make choices for you and no one else. You deserve to be happy.”
“So do you,” Kennedy says with a sincere smile.
“And I will be.” My head nods. “As long as I live in a world where I know you get everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a girl, Graham Black.” She releases her and playfully smacks me on the chest. I grin at how quick she is to wrap her fingers around mine again.
Kennedy’s stomach grumbles, saving me from delving any further into the conversation than we already have. “Let’s go grab something to eat,” I release her hip and lean past her to open the car door for her.
“I wasn’t done teaching you how to dance,” Kennedy begs but follows my cue to get into the car. Our hands still grasp each other as if neither of us wants to let go.
“You can teach me some other time,” I promise. “Let’s get something to eat, and I’ll get you home before your parents worry.”
“I’ve already texted them. They know I’m with you. They know I’m safe,” Kennedy explains. “They’ve always adored you.” Kennedy laughs at the thought. “You had them fooled so well. It was impressive.”
As soon as she’s buckled in, I shut Kennedy’s door and run around to get in. “I didn’t have them fooled. Your dad gave me warning looks every chance he got to keep me in my place.”
“HA! See how that worked out.” Kennedy giggles. “You couldn’t be kept in your place if you tried.”
“That’s a part of my charm and appeal,” I joke as I start the car.
We race down the road until we are in the heart of Nashville. Cars line the streets. There is plenty of live music to be heard. That’s the beauty of Nashville. Music is at an abundance, with every corner full of street performers that sometimes outshine those on the stages around town.
Kennedy jumps out of the car as soon as I push the gear into park. I follow behind her, curious as to where she’s going. The crowd thickens as I try to keep up. I nearly lose her several times, but she glances back and smiles to reassure me.
When I break through the massive sea of onlookers, I find Kennedy in awe of a street performer. Perched on a stool with just his guitar in his lap, he strums the strings as if they’re connected as one entity. The notes combined are haunting and dark, but he earns the appreciation of the crowd. I step forward until our bodies touch. A mixture of emotions plays out in her eyes. Our fingers brush a few times as we watch this guy beat on his guitar in an urgent way.
Kennedy’s eyes stay forward, and as I watch tears fall down her face, our fingers brush again. Instead of ignoring the contact, I mingle my pinky through hers and hold on.
“It’s us,” Kennedy whispers, not looking away from the guitar in front of her. I turn to her, but even then, she doesn’t glance away from the scene. “The music starts quiet and slow, just like us. It drags you in, makes you addicted to its sound. Then just when things seem too familiar, too uncomplicated, the melody changes to a haunting mess of notes. The high and lows keep you wondering what’s going to happen.” Kennedy plants her face in my chest as the last note plays.
She looks up at me with sad, distant eyes.
“It’s our song. We never know what’s going to happen next.”
I groan at how true her words are.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kennedy
A month has flown by since Graham and I were in Nashville, and the only thing I can hear is the sound of that guitar playing out our song. We’ve fallen into an easy friendship. Although it’s muddled with conversations that mean more than they appear on the surface, I enjoy the comfort we’ve found in each other.
“I can’t help, but wonder what you’re thinking about,” Mark’s strong voice breaks me from my daydream.
As I turn around to see him lean against the locker beside mine, he smiles.
“Mark,” I say under my breath.
“I can tell when you’re deep in thought,” Mark explains. His finger circles the air in front of me. “It’s written all over your pretty face.”
“You caught me.” I slam my locker shut and lean next to him.
“I know things have been weird between us. We’ve been avoiding each other,” Mark states the obvious condition of our friendship. “I just need you to know that I understand why you broke it off with me.”
“I’ve needed to hear that.” I smile appreciatively.
“I didn’t say I liked it, Kennedy, so don’t get the two confused. I understand why, only because I know you have a good head on your shoulders. You never do things if you aren’t positive it’s the right thing.” Mark pushes his foot off the locker and turns to me. “I’m not the right choice for you, but he might be. I get it.” Mark nods down the hallway. “I thought you should know I asked Skylar to prom. Didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.” Mark shrugs and turns to walk away.
Not one drip of jealousy hits me when Mark wraps his arm around her. That alone should be enough to prove that what I did is the right thing.
Graham turns to grab a book out of his locker, and I admire the flex of his bicep as he slams his locker shut. As if he can feel my eyes on him, he turns in my direction, but his attention drops from me and focuses on Kacey when she steps in front of him.
With my head low, I walk by them. Just as soon as I think I’m in the clear, a hand wraps around my wrist, giving me no choice but to stop.
“You okay?” Graham asks, dropping his hand from me. My eyes drop to where his fingers seared into my skin. “You look...”
“Late. I’m late,” I call out to him as I walk down the hallway.
“Kennedy,” Graham yells.
I turn and walk backward. “Graham, I’m late. I don’t have time to talk,” I lie, quickening my pace.
Graham and I have settled into an easy understanding. No conversations have been had about the status of our relationship. We just are, and it’s exactly where I want to be.
*****
The next two weeks blow by in a blur. With only a month left of school, everyone prepares for graduation. Whether it’s sending out checks for books and board or still deciding what we’re going to do, we’re all busy.
My parents have finally agreed to let me share an apartment with Amanda and Violet since we’ll all be in the city together. They’ve fought me for months on the subject, but in the end, they’ve realized it’s best if I’m around people I know in a strange city like New York. We’ve already found a place, and Violet’s parents have graciously offered to pay the rent, just as long as Amanda and I promise to keep Violet out of trouble.
“You ready for prom?” Graham asks as we walk out of the cafeteria. My eyes narrow on him. Without knowing what to say, I stay silent with a forced smile on my lips. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you duck out when limos and dresses come up in conversation.”
“And here I thought I was being stealthy,” I joke. “I’m not going.”
“Me neither,” Graham states. “I mean, I don’t know how to dance, so why should I go?” He laughs at the scowl on my lips.
“I taught you how to dance, remember?” I cross my arms over my chest.
Graham rubs his hand on the back of his neck as he stares at his shoes, then back at me. “What better reason for you to go with me then.” His eyes find mine, and my cheeks burn.
“What did you just say?” I pretend I didn’t hear him.
“Go to prom with me,” Graham repeats, his voice quiet and eager.
“You want us to go to prom together?” I point between the two of us.
“It only seems fitting,” Graham explains with a smirk that could make anyone melt at his feet.
“Prom is Saturday,” I argue my defense. “There’s hardly enough time.”
“So?” Graham scoffs as if it’s not that big of a deal.
“Graham, today’s Thursday, which means I
have two days to find a dress and schedule a hair appointment.”
“You should talk to Violet.” Graham’s grin widens with amusement.
I rub my temples and groan. “What has she done now?”
“She has a dress for you, and if I know Violet, you probably already have a hair appointment.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I take it this has been planned all along?”
“I just haven’t had the courage to ask.” He messes with the hem of his shirt.
I slam my locker shut and walk away before turning back to face him. “I’ll see you later, then.”
“Hey!” Graham shouts. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, I’ll go to prom with you,” I shout back.
A few hoots and hollers echo through the hallway. I laugh at their undying support.
By the time I make it to fourth block, my cell phone vibrates in my pocket. Violet’s name lights up the screen beside a selfie of her face.
OMG! YOU AND GRAHAM ARE GETTING BACK TOGETHER!
I text back, insisting we’re just going to prom together and that’s it. No need to make it into more than it is.
*****
As Saturday arrives, a cloud of nerves floats around in my stomach. I step into my white ball gown, and as the fabric slides up my bare skin, I take a deep breath to calm myself.
At the beginning of this year, Graham and I were strangers. In a way, we are still strangers with a sense of familiarity shining through when I need it to the most. I can’t imagine finishing my senior year without him by my side. It’s where we’ve always belonged.
“You look beautiful,” my mom says as she walks into my room. I watch her reflection in the full-length mirror.
“Can you help me?” I point to the zipper on the back of the dress. She zips me and drops her hands to my shoulders. She takes me in, tears building up in the corner of her eyes. “Mom, don’t you dare start crying.”
“You’ve come a long way since last year. I just can’t imagine life without you in this house,” she blubbers.
“Mom, I’m not leaving yet,” I argue, trying to hold back the eye roll at her hysterics. “We still have graduation to get through, then you can cry when I get in the car to leave.”