I look down at my red dress, tears welling up in my eyes. I blink them away angrily, remembering the blank look on Noah’s face as he stood casually next to that beautiful girl looking adoringly at him. I pray that the lights are just dark enough that he never sees the shock running across my face. Coldly, painfully, I turn away and walk quickly to the water fountains, ignoring the grumbles of annoyance as I push through the hyped crowd.

Why didn't I stay? I could’ve gone to his high school, I was supposed to go there. . .why did I choose to go to that stupid, “prestigious” school?

Reaching the bathrooms, I sit down against the wall, tucked into a corner. No one notices me, they’re too delirious with joy and excitement to see the dark shape huddled only a few feet away from them. I glance down at my dress again, the goosebumps on my arms, the flyaways from my hair, my fingers curled into fists. All I see is ugly. Worthless. You weren’t enough for him. You’ll never be enough.

This is the part when I’m supposed to cry, this is the part when I’m supposed to let the tears flow down my cheeks, the part where I’m glad I don’t wear heavy makeup.

But I don’t. I bite my lip, holding it back, because if I do, it’ll show that I am weak. I can’t be weak.

So I stay strong, bowing my head in the shadows of the reunion, hiding from the disco lights streaking across the gymnasium.

* * *

Could it be? No. . .it wouldn’t be. It can’t be. I see her face for a split second, numb and uncomprehending. But the image doesn’t register in my brain fast enough, and she turns around, expression flat and lifeless. I glimpse a shiny streak on her face, the dancing disco lights making it flash in the darkness.

The girl next to me pulls on my arm, giggling. “Come on, Noah! Let’s go ove-”

I cut her off, staring at the rapidly disappearing figure. “I have to- I have to go use the bathroom.”

Without missing a beat, she nods. “I’ll see you at the tables!” She skips away, and I shove between people, ducking and sliding around them, trying not to lose sight of the red dress.

I need to talk to her. . .

Making my way over to the bathrooms, I scan the area for her. If she went into the bathroom, I have no way of following her, but I doubt that she would be hiding in a place full of bright, fluorescent lights. Then I see the red again, dulled by the shadows of the walls.

“Emma?”

* * *

I look up. Noah? I look back down. I don’t want to see his face anymore. I don’t need to be reminded that I’m not anything to him anymore. But at the same time, hearing my name in his voice does remind me of the laughter filled conversations that we had in middle school, looking forward to the classes with him, signing his yearbook for the last time- I shake my head. It’s too bitter now. Those memories are worthless.

Noah crouches down, a dark silhouette against the colorful sprinkling of lights.

“Do you remember my blueberry jacket?”

I don’t move. “I remember.” He slides over to sit next to me, but he still leaves a good six inches between us. I think I hear him sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I keep my tone monotone, robotic. I don’t see the point in enjoying this time, anyway.

“I left you.”

“You never had me to begin with. We were never together.”

I try to stand up, but Noah grabs my arm, so gently I barely even feel it. But I know his hand is there. I freeze. “I should go.”

“Please stay.”

Do I want to stay? This isn’t a movie where the main character says no and walks away in the moonlight. But I don’t know. . .

“Do you remember the Bird Story?”

The corners of my mouth twitch in spite of myself, and I struggle to keep the flat tone in my voice. “Yeah.”

“And Crab Defense? Those were. . .good times.”

“Yeah.”

His eyes harden. He stands up too. “I’m trying to lighten the mood here. Can you say anything other than one word answers?”

“Lighten the mood?” I reply in disbelief. “Lighten the mood? What is your point? Come here with your girlfriend, talk about ‘good times,’ and lighten the mood?”

“Aren’t you even gonna let me have a chance to explain?”

“Then start already instead of spouting old memories.”

Noah sighs. “Alright, fine. I know. . .I know I wasn’t supposed to do anything. I was content to wait for you. But reality hits. Okay? What was I supposed to do for four years without you in a different high school, not even able to see you outside of class? I’m sorry. But we made no promise to each other, and even if we did, it would have been unreasonable. Never to make other friends, push away all possible relationships for four years. . .can you please understand?”

The worst part? I do understand. I don’t even know why I’m getting more angry by the second, but I am, and I can’t stop myself. “So you’re implying it’s my fault, that I pressured you?”

“I-” he stops mid-sentence as my words hit him square in the face. I can see it. He was implying it. And I know! It really is my fault. I know, I know, I know. And it hurts, but it’s the truth. How could I expect him to never move on? Because I didn't? Because I couldn’t?

“I can’t say it’s completely your fault,” Noah continues. “But it’s not my fault either. And I think we both know it.”

“It’s both of our faults, I guess.” I’m tired of this. “Why did you come over here in the first place?”

He shrugs, his stiff suit refusing to wrinkle. “I guess it just felt right.”

We sit there for a while, still six inches apart. Finally, Noah breaks the silence. “I- I have to go. That girl’s probably wondering where I am.”

I hear the slight shift in his tone when he says “that girl,” and I know he’s refraining from using the term “my girlfriend.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.”

This isn’t a movie. You don’t always get a happy ending, where the boy talks to his girlfriend, breaks up with her, and gets together with the main character. This is real life, and things just don’t work out that way. Noah hesitates for a moment, looking into my eyes, scanning my face. “You know, I’ve missed you a lot. No one at my school is even remotely like you.”

I hesitate. “. . . .oh. I’ve missed you too. Remember what I wrote in your yearbook?”

“Of course. My laugh is very missable.”

I almost laugh right then and there, but my eyes begin to burn as tears threaten to flow. I won’t let them. “I- I might not see you again. That’s reality, right?”

He smiles sadly. “Right.” Noah reaches out with one hand, almost as if to touch my face, but he pulls back. We both know why. If he did, it would be even harder to let go of each other. It’s impossible to make this work, and unlike movies, not every problem has an answer. Not everything can be fixed.

“Our lives are diverging, aren’t they? I guess I’m just stalling for time, I-” I stop myself. I’m starting to babble, still not wanting to leave him behind. My entire life will be built off of missing his laugh, missing his soft voice, missing the innocent, sweet, although honestly stupid personality of his. But I’m just stretching out the moment, and it won’t last forever. I have no choice anymore.

“I’ll really miss you. I think I’ve repeated that too many times now.” I laugh, startling myself, a cracking laugh with too many holes and filled with too much loss.

“I’ll miss you too. I lo-” Noah ducks his head, face falling. I can’t drag this out anymore. It’s horrible, I realize. We’ll never be able to even speak to each other after this, and I’ll never be able to hear him say that he loves me. He’ll say it to someone else one day, I know. But I push that thought out of my mind for now.

I put a finger to his lips, a drastic action, even for me. “Shh. Don’t say it. You know it’ll just hurt more.” And though the words are building more pressure inside me, threatening to break me apart, I force them out, voice trembling. “Just go. The longer you stay, we’ll both suffer more.”

Noah opens his mouth as if to say more, but he closes it as my words hit him. He simply nods. “We’re both already broken now. Maybe one day. . .I shouldn’t get my hopes up.” Lifting his head, he stares straight at me, and the eye contact lasts just a second too long.

“Goodbye, Emma. I won’t forget you.”

At this point, in the movie, the boy brushes his hand against the girl’s one last time, casting one final glance back at her before he leaves, hauntingly beautiful music accompanying it. But this is just the movie theatre, and he just takes his first step back into the dance without hesitation. I bet he needs to get away too, before we’re both just shattered glass scattered on the ground.

I watch him leave, his form unmistakeable, unforgettable as he heads over to the tables. Still, I make sure to turn away before he meets up with the other girl, knowing that if I see it, it’ll be seared, burned into my memory like a battle scar. Underneath the booming, upbeat music, I slide back into the shadows.

“Maybe it would’ve been better if we could just forget about each other,” I whisper. “Maybe if we could just delete our scenes from the script. . .maybe there would be some scraps left to pick up.”