Page 53 of Always Been Yours

“Dance with me, Genevieve.”

Damn him for using my full name in that low voice that instantly makes me think about him between twisted bedsheets.

I don’t trust myself to talk right now so I nod and offer him my hand.

He wraps my small, soft hand in his large, roughone. I follow him toward the dancefloor and count my blessings it’s a slow song; something modern that I recognize from the radio though couldn’t tell you who the artist is.

And none of that matters anyway.

Because, fifteen years later, I’m dancing with Grady at a homecoming dance. And it’s everything I had imagined it would’ve been.

We talk quietly about mundane topics and keep a couple inches of space between us, but it still feels perfect in a way that my imagination was never able to grasp.

The song comes to an end, and I mentally prepare myself to walk out of this moment we created together.

Until the next song starts playing and all I can do is stare at Grady.

Does he remember? Did heplanthis?

He chuckles softly, muttering, “A very serendipitous moment.” Then he pulls me back in for another dance.

Except this time, he tucks me into his chest and guides my hands to the nape of his neck before settling his on my lower back. My head is resting on his chest and all I can think about is that one fateful night many moons ago.

I was sitting in my backyard, hiding from my mom, and thanking whoever’s holy up there that my siblings were away at school.

Not a single person in my family liked Brody. Not even my best friend Molly liked him, and she liked every boy we had ever met.

Actually, Hudson was his friend but didn’t like him forme. Which was stupid and didn’t make sense.

I used to think my mom’s problem with Brody was the simple fact he wasn’t Grady. In her mind, no one would ever compare to the boy-next-door for her youngest child.

I didn’t allow myself to think about Grady very often orelse I’d also start second guessing my relationship.

And I didn’t need the reminder of what could’ve been on prom night.

No, that night Brody made sure I had been doubting our relationship without any help. He insisted we skip the after party at Harry’s beach house to go straight to the hotel instead. You know because‘that’s what people did on prom night.’

As if it wasn’t something Brody and I had been doing, safely, for over a year now. Sometimes it felt like it was all Brody ever wanted to do.

But this was my first year going to prom, and Molly and all our friends were going to the after party. Harry had the best house for parties and parents who were conveniently out of town this weekend. It didn’t make sense why we couldn’t go there first, but he said that if we went to the party, he wouldn’t be able to drive us back to the hotel afterward.

Which, okay that made sense. I hated when Brody would drive home after a party, even if it was ‘just one beer’or ‘a few hits from the bong.’

I told him I didn’t care about a stupid hotel room. I cared about making memories.

He didn’t like that.

Brody never yelled but his silence was almost worse. Sometimes it would last for days depending on how much Idisappointedhim. He always came back apologizing and making big gestures, but I think he secretly knew what that word did to me. How much I hated disappointing people to the point that I started having panic attacks a few months after we started to date.

The car ride back to my house had been quiet, and I was surprised he hadn’t burned out when he was driving away. I hadn’t even gotten to the porch steps by the time he was down the road.

Not that I hadplanned on using the front door. I didn’t want my mom to worry about me or ask why I was home when she had given me permission to spend one night with Brody. Something I had been begging her for months to let me do.

I spent a lot of time wondering if her answer would’ve been different if I was dating the brunette-boy-next-door.

Instead of spending what should’ve been one of the most magical nights of my high school career dancing on a pool table with my friends and drowning in the affections of my boyfriend, I was sitting behind the tree in our backyard.

It was a risk, but I didn’t have a lot of options. My mom couldn’t see me from here, not unless she walked out toward the gate leading to the Millers’ yard, but Selena and Tim would be able to see me from their kitchen. Even worse, Grady could see me from his bedroom window.

---