I was your only ride to a friend’s sweet sixteen. We haven’t seen each other for probably over two years and you never looked more adorable with your bright red extensions.

We’re sitting side by side in the car, I can smell your bubblegum, and you’re showing me your recent trip’s photos. I wasn’t sure if we were more excited about going to the party or just hanging out for the first time in a long while. After all, you were there when I felt so out of it, you were there with your comforting words even though you knew it would only help for a limited time. But you understood that. I was the same for you.

That night, you wanted to forget about boys. You wanted to forget about your across-the-world-lover, you wanted to forget about R.S, you just wanted to believe boys were nothing. I held onto your hand, squeezed your palms, and smiled. Your tampered smile grew genuine at me. And at that moment, I knew you were truly happy. We both wanted to forget about everything.

The clock struck nine and we followed other people to the dance room. We attacked the glow sticks and lighting mouth pieces. You grabbed my arm and as we walked up the stairs to the dance room, you said, “Tonight, you’re my girlfriend.”