What Do I Deserve?

9

  "So, then you're still dancing?"

  A simple question, should have a simple answer. But there's so much more to it than that. For now, I stick with a "yeah. Still dancing." 

  Still dancing around every possible aspect of what I wanted my life to be. Still dancing around the fact that my parents, nor sister, have any idea of the amount of make up I use daily to hide the bruises that are scattered about my body. 

  Still dancing around the fact that I fell in love with you the night of the homecoming dance.

Flashback

  If it wasn't for his smile and the way he gripped my hand, I would've continued to argue with him. But there was something that felt different. It felt like he actually wanted to be around me. 

  "So, did you get your dance with Maggie?" I ask as he backs out of my parent's driveway. I'm unsure of what type of excuse I'm going to give my parents about coming home in my pajamas, but at the moment, my mind is elsewhere.

  He turns towards me, grinning. "That I did." 

  "Then why aren't you going back for another?" 

  "Thought I could be of better use somewhere else," he admits. "Behold, my success." He gestures towards my seat and begins the trek back towards the direction of the high school. "Now, the  number one question is if this is a banana split situation or a single scoop?"

  My sad eyes drift over to his as he stops at a red light. I sigh, not exactly answering his question. He gives a nod when he sees my expression. "Banana split. Gotcha." He steals another glance a bit down the road. "Your hair is pretty."

  "Thanks," I run my hand over the curls. "Took me an entire hour to do it, thus the reason it's only ever for special occasions. And here I am wasting it on getting ice cream and sitting in a musty auditorium."

  "Hey. It's a banana split in celebration of your first big stage role." I start to scoff but he stops me. "And if you don't get it, then it's special because it's me," he flashes a cheezy smile and a silly brow wiggle. 

  "You always think so highly of yourself, Evans," I chuckle lightly, shaking my head.

  "Something you might need to start doing for yourself," he adds, his eyes cutting over to my side of the car to find my gazing at my lap. 

  The urge to argue is strong, but instead I just shrug my shoulders and look out the side window watching as he orders the ice cream and we pass lively businesses until we reach the school parking lot.  It's filled with numerous cars, even a couple of limos off to the side as well.  "Why do people treat homecoming like prom?" I ask.

  "Well, what was homecoming like back in the sticks of Tennessee?" His smirk on full display as he refers to my  hometown once more as redneck country. 

  "Nothing like this," I gesture around the lot as I step out of his car. "I mean, we had a few girls who felt like they owned the school so they'd show up in floor length gowns, but most just wore a nice Sunday dress. Some guys dressed like you are now, nice pants and a button up, but mostly they wore their nicest Wranglers and cleaned up their Ropers a bit before picking you up in their pick-up."

  We shuffle through the lot in the opposite direction of the gym where the dance is held, making way towards the back entrance of the auditorium. "There's no way it's unlocked back here," I whisper quietly, as if someone may be lurking in darkened shadows.

  "Guess we'll find out," he responds. "So, which were you?"

  "Which was I what?"

  "Were you the princess in a gown or a Sunday best?"