Yours Truly [h.s.]

2

The final months of your high school career flew by in a whirlwind, chaotic and breezy and busy. I spent most of my time sitting in classes with my chin resting in my palm, wondering what you were doing, what you were thinking, how I was meant to go through my own senior year without you. The whispers in the hallways had altered, no longer birdbrain comments, but ones about how I was so far up your ass I could nearly see out of your mouth. Rumors about how you were only with me because you were pussywhipped, despite the fact that we hadn't even had sex at that point.

My favorite comments were the ones about how I must give stellar blowjobs if I was able to keep you. Surprise, bitches, I do.

The weeks of April and May were a countdown to the dreaded end of our high school solace, tinged with little pockets of light, like bursts of sunrays through cloudy skies. While I knew I was running out of time to spend with you in the greenhouse, I chose to peck out the kernels of beauty hidden within the last weeks.

"Chickadee, I promise anything you put on will have me flat on my ass. You could wear a swimsuit and I'd have you perched on my arm all night long." Harry laughed, as he pet his fingers through my hair while I leaned against his shoulder. Our attention was fixated on a plant that Harry was potting, my head bouncing as his arm pressed down the soil into the pot.

I'd spent the last few weeks wracking my brain trying to prepare for prom, which was approaching at avalanche speeds, ready to tear through the school. I hadn't gotten a dress yet and, with the event two weeks out, Harry was probably on his last few nerves listening to me pant out worries about what color I should wear or what the nasty girls would say if I wore the same dress as them.

Grandma and I were going dress shopping after school, and I think my biggest fear was that Harry would see some other girl looking ten times more beautiful than me. My mom had no interest in joining us to shop, more prepared to just hand me a credit card and tell me not to buy something too expensive. Grandma, of course, found that absolutely unacceptable, and demanded I let her take me shopping. I wouldn't have said no, regardless.

It's silly to think about how highly we regarded prom. Or how highly I regarded it. Prom is just a night to wear pretty dresses that, once the night closes, will flock to the back corner of the closet and begin collecting dust. But that might as well have been our fucking wedding in my eyes.

"I just want you to think I look pretty." I muttered, picking at the seam of my jeans.

With my words, Harry immediately grasped my chin, pulling my face up to meet his. His eyes were hard, set with determination, and so, so green.

"You're fucking beautiful, Dove. If this is going to stress you out so bad we won't even go. I don't care as long as I get to spend time with you."

My heart warmed at his words, but there was no way I was going to take his prom away from him. Besides, I was more than eager to go, I just had to find a dress first, "Thank you. And, no, don't be silly. I'm not missing the chance to have you on my arm." I poked at his side, trying to lighten the conversation.

Harry's eyes lit up, his dimples creasing into his cheeks, as the bell screamed through the greenhouse.

"Get to class, hooligan," Peck. "I'll see you later." Another peck. "I l- I, uh, I'll talk to you in a bit."

Grandma ratted me out just like you did after I nitpicked the third dress I tried on. Just like I always said - you two were made from the same stardust. Pieces of heaven and the abyss and dirt, both so real and radiant, like the sun shone only for you.

"Sweetie, you look so pretty in all of them. Harry's going to think so, too, if what you've told me about him is right." She put her finger on her lip with a phony quizzical look, and I knew exactly where this was going, "Speaking of which, you've been going steady with this boy for almost three months and I haven't met him yet. Old grandma, too embarrassing to be introduced to a shiny, new boyfriend."