If I had known it would be the last night we were ever truly carefree, I would have memorized it better.
I would have counted the freckles on his shoulders.
Would have held onto the sound of his laugh a little longer.
Would have kissed him slower.
Would have looked around the room and realized that sometimes the best nights of your life don’t announce themselves when they arrive.
Sometimes they just happen.
And then they’re gone.
Leaving you to spend years trying to find your way back to a version of yourself that only existed in that light.
That night, I was seventeen.
In love.
And stupid enough to think that meant I was safe.
Prom started in my bedroom with Alexis and Jasmine turning my house into a full-scale emergency operation.
My mom had surrendered control an hour ago.
