Willow:

The rest of that week, Calvin Steelton had eaten lunch with me at school and had walked me to class afterward. I told him I'd go on a date with him, and he seemed really happy to hear that.

I became comfortable around him. I considered him a friend, but a friend that I was going on a date with.

Our first date was today. He said he'd pick me up at six-thirty. I had told my dad to lock himself in his room, because it was too soon for Calvin to meet him. He had given me a look like he hadn't wanted to do that, so I convinced my mom to stay in there with him and hold him back.

This was a weird situation for me. I'd never gone on a date before. My mom expected me to start calling Kennedy my boyfriend, but I terminated that analogy of hers about two years ago.

Now I was going on my first date with Calvin Steelton, who neither of my parents knew. I knew him a little.

The fact that I knew him a little was the reason why my mother had allowed my requests.

The doorbell rang.

I stood up from the couch in the living room, then rubbed my hands over the dress I had on.

I only had one dress besides the magenta-colored prom dress and I decided that maybe I should wear it on my first date.

It was light blue, arrived at the knee, and simply cotton. It was so light blue, that it was almost white. I hadn't liked wearing dresses, but I did like the way people would look at me when I'd wear one.

I couldn't imagine Calvin Steelton looking at me in a different way than he had been the past week. I liked the way he looked at me already.

I walked slowly to the front door. I was kind of tiptoeing.

I was wearing my gray Keds with the dress. I hadn't had heels, besides the ankle bruisers I wore to prom - and I was not going to be wearing those ever again. Stiletto's no longer existed for me after what I endured.

I was dressed semi-casual. My hair was down, and smelt pretty damn good. I thought I was ready for this date.

What I wasn't ready for was Kennedy to be on the other side of the door, breathing heavily like he had just gotten done running a marathon of some sort.

My eyes widened, and my posture had stiffened.

"Kennedy? What are you-"

"I'm going to kill that fucker if he comes to this house, Willow," he interrupted me. He took quick breaths, in and out. He was angry. He said the word fucker. He had also said the word kill.

I stared at his face for a second, blankly.

He looked over his shoulder, and then gently pushed me aside as he walked in the house, and locked the door behind him.

He was facing me, now.

"What are you doing here, Kennedy? Why are you mad? Who are you going to kill?" I questioned him, eyed his appearance, and couldn't stop noticing the erratic rises and falls of his chest as he breathed.

He tapped his foot for a moment.

"Remember when I said I'd be stalking your date?"

I nodded.

"Well..." he paused. "I kind of lied."

I sighed deeply. "What'd you do, Kennedy?" I asked slowly.

"I stalked him. I saw his truck a few hours ago, and followed him to Cape's," he shook his head, irritated. "He was with that girl that everyone says he's been fooling around with. I think her name is Valerie. They were really touchy," he explained.

"Did they kiss, or something?" I asked.

He nodded vigorously. He had a disgusted facial expression, like I brought up bad memories by asking him.

"So I guess he's going to stand me up, or call and cancel," I shrugged.

My feelings weren't too hurt about it. I hardly knew Calvin, and he was the one who approached me in the first place. He was just making himself look pathetic.

"If that's not the case, and he shows up over here, I am going to get into a fight in your front yard, Willow," Kennedy said in a hard tone, raising his voice a little.

Kennedy sounded like a caveman.

"No way in hell are you fighting Calvin," I dismissed. Kennedy might have been acting like a caveman, but he wasn't one and I wasn't going to let him fight Calvin Steelton. Even if Calvin turned out to be even more douche-tastic than I had first thought, I wasn't going to let Kennedy get hurt.

Kennedy was a bit taller than Calvin, but Calvin was a football player. He worked out regularly, while Kennedy did not.

"Willow, I'll dismember him if he tries to break your heart. Every single limb. All of them," he said.

Dismember him with what? I wanted to ask, but I hadn't.

"You don't need to do that for me, though. I'm smart and I know to turn him down now. He's not even close to something anymore, Kennedy. Promise," I tried to reassure him.

He knew I wasn't stupid, though. He was just angry that Calvin Steelton was the typical jock and tried to lower me in like a fresh piece of meat.

"He deserves at least one punch in the face regardless. Whether he comes over here, or not. Especially if he comes over here. I'll punch him at least once if he comes over here," he said.

I shook my head no, and he suddenly curled his lips into a smirk: like he had an idea.

Or I could just get Marshall, and he -"

I had cut him off by gut-punching him, causing a small grunt to part his lips. He smiled widely.

"Leave my dad out of this," I muttered.

He paused for a moment. His smile was making me smile, despite the disappointment I had, regarding Calvin. Kennedy made everything durable. I hadn't known what I'd do without him.

"Come here," he said.

I hugged my best friend around the waist as he wrapped his arms over my shoulders. My cheek pressed against his chest and I listened to the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat.

He was lucky I wasn't one of those agonizing criers. Some girls would be hysterical in a situation like this. I just realized quickly that Calvin wasn't worth crying over. I had Kennedy. Kennedy was all I needed.

After this, I knew I was no longer going to offer conversations with guys that weren't Kennedy; not until Chicago. It wasn't worth it, and seeing Kennedy even remotely angry was a bit unsettling.

"He has no clue what he is missing out on, Willow. I'm glad I caught him, and I'm glad I'm the one you're hugging tonight," Kennedy whispered. I had my head tucked under his chin.

"Me, too," I agreed. I doubted any other hug would be as good as Kennedy's hugs, anyway. Though I liked the way Calvin had talked to me, his words I had always questioned. In the end, he had turned out to be one of the least genuine talkers of history. Somewhat, I had known better. I was just afraid of losing Kennedy.

That night, Kennedy and I ran into my parents' bedroom. We surprised them. They were happy to see Kennedy instead of Calvin. We had gone downstairs together.

My dad would always ask stuff, like, "When are you moving in, Kennedy?"

And my mom would always counter his question, and say, "No, honey. When are you going to fix up their home, so they can move in together?"

Nothing was ever awkward with Kennedy. We were like family, except I hadn't looked at Kennedy as my brother. I looked at him as my other half. Most of my soul was coherent because of Kennedy. I owed him everything, but he'd probably say he owed me everything.

My mom had dinner cooked, and we all ate in the living room, our plates sitting on our laps as we watched a movie on VHS.

Kennedy was sitting close to me, but our thighs weren't touching. Every second, I'd scoot closer to him until our thighs were touching. Slowly, he had placed his hand on my knee. He was welcoming my closeness, and I knew he was smiling.

My mom was sitting on the far end of the couch, lost in the movie. A wine glass was in her hand, her lips just barely tracing the rim of the glass. Her plate was empty at her feet, now.

I caught my dad staring at my mom from his recliner, his empty plate on the coffee table. He was sipping on a glass of water, because he had some scotch about an hour ago. He gave me a light smile before turning his head towards the television. He had caught me catching him staring at my mom, but really, I appreciated the love my parents had for one another. It was a rare thing. They loved each other more than they loved themselves. It'd be torture without control. Somehow along the way, they had found their control. They had found the right time to start controlling it. They made love work.

I found myself wishing that I'd find love one day like my parents had - a type of love that I could control with someone whom could control it with me. Not just a comforting love, a love that made sense, a love that was worth fighting for. I just wanted to make love work with someone whom I loved more than myself.

I looked at Kennedy as he stared ahead. I forced my eyes to take him in more than they ever have before.

He was mine forever, but he was running out of time. We were running out of time. I never wanted to admit that. I wanted to pretend, to wash it away. I wanted to look at him as just my best friend.

But we knew it all. We knew each other. We knew what was right, what was wrong, and how many spaces we had to even out before our time was up.

Our ending we could not decipher. We wanted to pretend forever, no pauses. No rewinds, either.

We were afraid, because either way, we would have our last time. We wouldn't have any do-over's, or repeats, because there would be an ending eventually.

We just hadn't known when that was.

We were simply screwed, and it was no one's fault. No one was to blame. No one got to pick, or choose their forever. Some were lucky to live a long and fulfilling life, while others were cut short.

We hadn't said anything as we sat there, watching the television screen. The volume was mild, but I couldn't pay attention. My thoughts were too loud.

At this time, as I sat here with him - I had no idea the cancer was back. I just knew we had different plans. I was moving to Chicago, while he was planning to attend the local community college in Nolensville, Tennessee. He wanted to keep his momma company. Kennedy's pop was practically nonexistent. Kennedy hadn't known his father, or his father's first name, for that matter. But Kennedy loved his momma, and the last thing he wanted was for Trace to be here alone, in one of the smallest towns in Tennessee. He also wanted a simple, quiet life. He wanted to save the rebellion within him for when his time was almost up, and he told me that a long time ago. I was just oblivious for a while. I hadn't known it was already happening, right in front of me. Or that I had been a part of it.

When the movie was over, my parents said goodnight, then went to their room after collecting all the plates. They had trusted Kennedy. I had trusted him, too.

"Are you ready to go home, now, Willow?" he asked quietly. His mouth heated my ear, it was so close.

I nodded, turning my head to face him. "Yes," I whispered.

We rose from the couch. He had put his arm around me, because he had somehow known that I reached the dark side. He knew I needed to retreat. That was why we were going home.

He brought his mouth close to my ear again as we stood motionless in front of the couch. I closed my eyes, expectant.

"Then let's go home," he said.

***

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