Page 90 of Between Love and War
Love is radiating from everyone tonight. Well, those four. Emily and Joshua, Ryan and Bon. I feel weirdly jealous of the way they act around each other. And as I glance at Kate, I know she feels the same way. After all, she’s the hopeless romantic.
When everyone’s busy with their own little conversations about prom, Kate whispers to me, “You’re really supposed to leave after Saturday?”
I nod. “Yeah. But I wouldn’t miss my first prom.”
“You’re really staying just because of that?” she asks, fiddling with her own soda in her hand.
“Yeah,” I say. “Figured someone’s gotta spike the punch and pretend they didn’t.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, that soft little exhale she does when she tries not to laugh but fails. Then she smiles up at me, like she’shappythat I’m staying. Her eyes are crinkling, light catching in her lashes, her shoulder brushing mine.
And then…
That’s when it happens.
The inevitable realization.
It’s clear to me now. I’m not staying for the punch. I’m not staying for the theme or the cheesy photo booth or even the fact that I never went to my own prom.
I’m staying because of Katie.
I’m staying because she looks at me like that. Like I’m someone good, someone funny, someonesafe. And it makes me forget about the headlines and the missed calls and the career on pause.
I’m staying because everything about her makes me want to stop running. Makes me feel like I’msomebodyoutside the life curated for me.
But even if I admit that to myself, even if I let the feeling take shape, I know how this ends. She wants a life that’s rooted. She wants family dinners and annual traditions and a future she can map out. She likes pets and small town bakeries and quiet places to scream to the void.
And sure, she told me once there’s a part of her that wonders what else is out there. That maybe, if things were different, she’d take a risk. Explore. Try something unexpected. But that something isn’t following a guy like me from city to city just because I have to be there. It’s not waking up in hotel rooms or FaceTiming through time zones. That’s not a compromise I’m gonna ask her to take.
Kate’s the kind of person who gives too much when she loves someone. I know that already. And I’ve seen too many people ask for too much from her. I won’t be one of them. I won't be the reason she starts editing herself down just to make room for me.
So I make peace with what this is. With this feeling.
I’ve never wanted anything I couldn’t have. Never found someone I wanted to uproot my life for. Never like this. Never like her. She’s so close I can see the faint freckles under her eyes, and yet she’s already slipping into a future I know I can’t follow. And that’s on me. Because I don’t know who I’ll be when I return, and until I figure that out, I’m not gonna ask her to wait for me.
She laughs at something Richard says, her nose crinkling the way it always does when she’s caught off-guard. And I just sit there. Watching her.
If this is all I ever get—just these days in between, these passing moments where she leans a little closer, looks a littlelonger—I’ll take them. Every small, quiet, unrepeatable second. I’ll stay just a little longer.
Oh, and yeah.
I’m definitely screwed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Kate
We’re about to sleep in Emily’s room, like we always do when she’s here. But before I face that, I spend a few seconds in Michael’s backyard, currently on my second cigarette.
They’re gonna interrogate me. They’ll ask what happened, what I’m feeling, where this is going. And I wouldn’t know what to say. Because even I don’t know what I’m feeling. There’s a part of me that’s giddy—like really giddy, like I want to twirl in the hallway and press flowers into journals and highlight my favorite parts of this chapter of my life.
Because for the first time, the love I write about in the margins of my notebooks… it’s starting to feel real. Tangible. Maybe even within reach.
But then, there’s the other part. The part of me that wants stability. The part that bakes cakes with perfect accuracy because I know that changing the recipe might lead to disaster.I can feel the end humming underneath the sweetness, and it’s messing with my ability to enjoy thenow.
But still. I’m enjoying it. Maybe not fully, not without fear—but enough to know it’s something I have. And I don’t know how to tell my friends that. That I’m terrified and thrilled. That I’m learning, slowly, that I can feel things without needing to label them or explain them right away.
I sigh and flick the cigarette away. I shove a piece of gum into my mouth to mask the stench, a weird little ritual I’ve adopted. One of these days, I won’t need to hold these things again just to feel in control of my life.
