What happens when you can't even recognize your own parents, but you're able to identify the most notorious playboy in school? //
Asher Thomas lives in a world where she isn't able to recognize people's faces, including those of her parents and even...
Chloe is prattling away excitedly as she paints her lips. Heidi is working on my make up while I hear Chloe recount Chris's prom proposal for the fifth time. He brought her to a fashion show and had the models walk with tops adorning individual letters, lining them up in front of everyone until they spelled out: PROM?
Aaron brought me to the lake and spelled out the same word with candles. "I know you very well," he'd said, "And so, I did the most romantic, sappy thing I could think of." He then produced two greasy cheeseburgers, and we dined with champagne glasses of apple juice by the waterfront.
Chloe finishes tucking one last pin into her hair, and whirls to me. She does a spin, her scarlet red dress skin-tight, flaring out at the shin. She has wrapped her golden hair into intricate curls at the nape of her neck, sparkling the crown of her head with small rubies. All in all, I pray that Chris won't faint at the mere sight of her.
"Absolutely stunning," I say with a beam, Heidi humming in agreement. Chloe giggles, her diamond earrings glinting in the light.
The doorbell rings through the house, as soon as Heidi finishes smoothing out my dress. "Beautiful," she whispers, squeezing my hand.
I thank her with a smile as the three of us go to the door, my Converse hidden under my blue dress. I leave my brown locks down from their usual ponytail, falling in curls around my shoulders. The dress flares at my waist, brushing along the ground with every step. How I won't go through the night without tripping myself, I'm not sure.
As we near the staircase, I spy my father standing at the door with Aaron and Chris, both dazzling in their crisp black suits. Aaron has his big hands tucked into his pockets, politely conversing with the two of them. His hair remains clean and gel-free, looking as if he ran a comb through his locks a few times, but gave up.
As soon as the three of us begin descending the stairs, Aaron and Chris turn to us, waiting at the end. I feel as if I'm floating, the blue dress a cloud around me. Chloe grips my hand, sharing a smile. From the day she moved from Manhattan in middle school, to the last dance of high school ... it leaves me winded.
Aaron holds out a hand as I near him, blue eyes shining. He is clean and shaven, slightly spritzed with cologne. His palm is warm around mine, fingers locking.
"You take my breath away," he murmurs, hand snaking around my waist. I lean my head against his shoulder, flushing. "And to you."
Dad claps his hands, brandishing a camera. "If you don't mind me," he says with a grin, "I'd like to take a few dozen pictures."
Aaron and I turn towards the camera, my cheek resting against his shoulder. I smile.
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Somewhere in the middle of the dance, Aaron whisks me away. "Let's get out of here," he says against my ear, eyes dancing. I comply without a second thought.
We stand on top of the waterfall, having hiked all the way in our dressy attire. Aaron peels his shirt off, his hair a mess. My feet are sore, a reminder of the countless hours I spent swaying on the dance floor with him.
"Your turn," he says with a smirk, working on his belt. I roll my eyes, struggling to free myself from my dress. With a few twists and turns, the fabric is over my head and free from my body. I fold the dress gingerly and set it on a patch of grass.
Aaron turns to me, skin pale in the moonlight. He holds out a hand, fingers locking with mine. His voice holds a melody, blending in with the rest of the orchestra around us.
"My cosmos."
With that, he launches himself from the edge of the waterfall, pulling me after him.
