“Come on, let’s get you home.”
We rode in silence for most of the drive back to my house. Both of us lost in our own thoughts. I wanted to scroll through my messages to read a few in particular, but couldn’t will my thumb to swipe it open. So, I placed it on my seat next to me, staring out the window instead. Thinking about all the amazing things Noah had done for me that day. Resisting the urge to tell him to stop a few streets away from my house, because for the first time since we started hanging out.
I wanted to kiss him and tell him that...
I was falling for him.
Prom night was finally here, and I couldn’t be more excited to get dressed up to the nines and just be a normal teenage girl. Not the fragile, broken, scared one who didn’t remember who she was. My mom insisted on renting a limo and going all out for it. Saying something about it being an important night in a young girl’s life. I remember the day Noah showed up after one of my therapy sessions, holding a dozen pink roses, and a balloon that read, ‘Will you marry me?’ with a big X through the ‘marry me’ words. Replaced with ‘Go to prom with me?’ in black permanent marker in his chicken scratch handwriting.
“Oh my God! You’re too much!” I laughed, taking in the image of the tall, muscular man covered in ink. Holding a bunch of pink flowers in his arms.
“That a yes?”
“Did my momma put you up to this?”
“Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, pretty girl, but I do need an answer?”
“Fine,” I breathed out an exaggerated breath. “I’ll go to prom with you. Only because I know you didn’t go to yours, and I feel bad for you.”
He busted out laughing.
It took a few weeks for my parents’ to get over the incident at the beach. I think it helped that Noah was adamant on coming inside with me that night. Wanting to explain and apologize for scaring the shit out of them. I could see it in my dad’s eyes when Noah was talking, he respected the hell out of him for having the balls to come in and face them. Knowing he could have lost his life.
I didn’t even want to go in and face them.
They didn’t ground me or anything, but they definitely made it clear not to ever do that to them again. I said my goodbyes to Noah and headed to bed, tossing and turning most of the night until I finally gave in. Grabbing my phone off my nightstand, I swiped over the screen and opened the text messages from the unknown number.
8:07 PM “Ma just called me! Where are you?! Answer me! Please tell me where you are!”
9:00 PM “Pippin, I ain’t fuckin’ around. Are you okay?”
9:30 PM “I know you don’t want to talk to me. Just give me a yes or no.”
10:15 PM “I just need to know you’re okay... Please, babe!”
11:00 PM “GODDAMN IT, MIA! I asked you a question. Expectin’ a fuckin’ answer!”
11:10 PM “I don’t give a fuck if you’re with Noah. Just tell me you’re alright!”
11:30 PM I need you, babe. I’ve never needed anyone like I need you. Please let me know you’re okay.”
12:10 AM Mia, please...
12:46 AM “Pippin, I’m hangin’ on by a fuckin’ thread! DON’T MAKE ME COME FIND YOU!”
1:05 AM “Baby, please... don’t do this to me. I love you. Just tell me you’re okay.”
1:20 AM “Ma let me know you’re alright. Hope you had a great day surfin’. I miss the fuck out of you. Prayin’ one day you’ll miss me, too.”
I read the last text message and before thinking twice about, I typed out, “Sometimes I feel like I already do.” And hit send.
He never replied, which brought on more unexplained heartache. More confusion. More questions and no answers. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed with his lack of response. I read each text message probably a hundred times over the last month. Memorizing each and every word. Pouring my heart out on the pages of my notebook that I’m sure Dr. Garcia would have a field day with at our next session.
“Mia Pia, you look beautiful,” Mom announced as I walked into the living room, doing a little twirl in place.
I was wearing a light-yellow strapless gown that hugged my curves perfectly, subtly flowing out down by my knees. My hair was curled and tied to the left side of my head, with a few strands of hair framing my face. Mom helped me with my makeup, going heavy on the eyes with dark black eyeliner and thick mascara. Some blush and a soft shade of nude for my lips.
“Wow, Mia... you look... Jesus... when did you grow up?” Mason asked, eyeing me up and down.
He was home for a few weeks before having to go back overseas. I hadn’t seen him much, probably too busy kissing Giselle’s ass. She hated him or at least that’s what she said the last time I asked her about him a few days ago. Mason said he came over to hang out with Bo, but I knew he was lying. I’m almost positive Dad told him to stop by so they could both scare the shit out of Noah. Poor guy probably already saw it, coming given the history we apparently all shared.
Bo was sitting on the couch playing his Xbox, glancing over at me from the television. “Look nice, Mia. Make sure to let Noah know that if he touches you, I’ll break his fuckin’ fingers.”
“Bo Savan Ryder!” Mom reprimanded, lightly backhanding him in the head. Glaring at my father who was hiding the proud look on his face from Bo’s threat. “You watch your mouth!”
Bo shrugged, turning his attention back to his game again. My mom just placed her hands on her hips and shook her head.
“Be home after the dance,” Dad ordered, bringing my attention to him.
“Dad... come on. It’s prom,” I simply stated.
“Exactly. Be home after prom. I know what happens at those things, Mia. And because of that, you should be grateful you’re even going.”
“Momma...” I eyed her.
“Lucas, give your daughter a break. Even I was allowed to stay out past curfew on my prom night. Remember you took me, but you ended up ruining that, too,” she snidely smiled.
He pushed off the wall, walking over to her. Pulling her tight against his chest. Whispering something in her ear, causing her to immediately start blushing.
“Ugh...” I spewed, locking eyes with Mason who looked just as disgusted as I did. Even after all these years and everything us kids put them through, my parents’ were still very much in love. Giving me a glimmer of hope for my future.
I was looking in the foyer mirror, reapplying my lipstick when the doorbell rang shortly after five. My dad beat me to the door with Mason and Bo in tow. They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, but the look on Noah’s face when they finally let him enter the house said it wasn’t too pretty.
He looked so handsome, wearing a tuxedo with accents that matched my gown.
“You look beautiful,” Noah praised, kissing my cheek. Handing me a white orchid corsage.