His fist clenches the top of my shirt as he forcefully drags me away from the shining lights and booming music, my feet scrambling below me to maintain my balance, and utterly failing to do so. He stops about 50 steps away from the living room, drops my shirt and watches as I nearly collapse again the wall of the hallway, struggling to catch my breath. His beautiful black eyes are piercing into mine as I sloppily attempt to gather myself; he takes a step closer, murderous dilated pupils shooting down at me from his height of 6 foot 3. The fact that his sleek hair is sprawled across his forehead, and his lanky body is now mere inches from mine makes me want to lean in and give him the kiss I’ve been dreaming of for the last three years. “Never,” he breathes into my ear. “Attack Kathleen like that again. Do you understand me? She’s my girlfriend. I don’t care how much she hates on you, I’m still hers.” He glances back toward the living room, and bites his lip, shakes his head. Returns his daggers back to my face. “Next time, if you even glare at her and I hear about it, I’ll personally get you transferred out of Essex Bergen, got it?” Still in a daze, I nod my head, absorbing the last glare he gives me before taking a step away. At the last second before he passes me, he whips his head back toward me and whispers, “And stop leaving your pathetic love notes in my locker. I’m taken.”

He strides away from me toward the living room, where his girlfriend waits by the entrance; her left cheek still tinged red where my hand had been. Tenderly, his hands cup her downcast face, bring her lips up to meet his, and together they walk into the living room, a deafening cheer awakening as the couple start making their way through to the center of the dance floor, where they belong. My hands gently touch my own face, embarrassment flushing through my body as I realize it’s streaked wet with tears.