𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

I miss you more
than I say I do
-Suki Waterhouse

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

March 2016,

My head was pounding. The sun was seeping in through the windows, and I could barely peel open my eyes. When I finally did, Tenny was staring down at me. There was a pit in my stomach, like I knew everything was backwards. I always woke up before Tenny.

"Good morning," he said, with a groggy smile.

I groaned, tried to throw off the covers, but Tenny grabbed onto my hand. He pulled me back into his chest. I could hear his heart beating. He put his hands into my hair, but the sun was up, and my mouth was full of cotton. Everything felt foreign.

"Did you mean it?" he asked. "What you said last night, was that real?"

My heart started pounding, in rhythm with my head. Memories were playing on double speed, searching for what I could have said to him to make him hold me, like that, in the daylight. I'm yours, I had told him. You're mine, and things can be different.

I looked up at his face. His mouth was parted, a scar above his left eyebrow, and my name over his heart. He was still Tenny. In daylight or in moonlight, he was still my Tenny. His eyes still felt like home.

"Yeah," I told him, but my voice was small. "Of course."

And I put my head back onto his chest. I let him put his hands back into my hair. And I told myself it was okay. He was Tenny, and I was Violet. He was mine, and I was his.

Everything was fine.

But my heart never did stop pounding.

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Bailey is spread out on the sidewalk as if he's trying to make snow angels in the concrete. Tenny looks at me wide eyes—a sort of what the fuck expression that I mirror back. And then we're pulling him up, grabbing onto Bailey's limbs and stretching them every which way until he's back on his feet, an arm slung over each of our shoulders. We start walking.

"It's crazy you two were friends," Bailey slurs, and we're practically dragging him down Fraternity Row. The toes of his shoes scrape along the asphalt. "And I introduced you to each other." He laughs. "Do you remember that?"

I look over at Tenny, but he looks away.

"Did Dalton tell you that?" I ask.

"Noo," he sings. "Tens told me that—he said you guys were friends and you guys read books together and he was totally in lov—"

"Can you try to pick up your feet?" Tenny grumbles. Bailey huffs, but he plants one foot on the pavement. It takes a little weight off from my shoulders. It also seems to veer Bailey's thoughts a different direction. He sighs.

"Frankie didn't even speak to me," he whines. "Do you think she saw me? With those girls? I thought she'd see that and come over but...nope."

I reposition my grip on him. "She's working through her own stuff right now, Bailey," I explain. "I wouldn't take it personally—I couldn't even get her to speak to me before I left."

"She hates me."

"She doesn't hate you, Bailey."

"Well, she doesn't like me, either."