"And remember, your fitting is at 9am tomorrow! No staying up all night!"
"Yeah mom." Skipping the odd step, you bounced up the winding stairs to your attic bedroom, your own personal heaven. At the young age of 6, your parents whisked you away from everything you had ever known, including your best friend Demi and moved you all the way over to the UK for your father's job. You hated the city you lived in, you hated your school, you hated the miserable weather that dampened your mood everyday. 12 whole years and you still missed Texas. You didn't belong here and the minute you could escape your parents leashes, you would retreat back home where you belong.
Even though, you and Demi had only been six when you had been torn away from each other, you had kept in contact. Nearly every night, without fail, you would FaceTime each other and fall asleep to the soothing sounds of her gentle snores.
"Hey babe! Are you feeling any better today?"
"All the better for talking to you." Allowing your exhausted body to fall on to the white bed sheets, you positioned the camera so the brunette could see you. "Mom's dragging me to my dress fitting tomorrow."
"Dress fitting? You're going to your prom?"
"I don't have a choice, Dem."
"Did you try talking to her again?"
"When do I not talk to her? It took me having a mental breakdown in front of the whole school for her to take my anxiety seriously. How do I even expect her to understand that I don't wanna be dressed up, put on show for all their work colleagues to see? Did you know she's asked her friend's daughter to come over to help me view universities? She's already booked a Cambridge visitors day!" Demi's face is sympathetic at your cries, understanding how much you've struggled since you left her side.
"You just have to wait, only a few months till you graduate and then you can leave. You can legally leave and come straight back here."
"With what? I have no money." Tears were dripping from your jaw line, soaking into the fabric of your pyjama top. Pyjamas that Demi had sent to you last Christmas.
"You don't need money. You can live with me, we can finally live our lives together. We can get jobs and save and travel. I can sing, you can play your guitar. Who cares? We'll be together." Holding up her manicured pinky finger, you hold up your own and release a sad laugh at your little tradition.
When Demi had reached 15 and could start to understand herself, her confusing feelings that she had kept inside for so long, she confessed her bisexuality. You remembered her crying down the phone, scared that her parents would reject her, that the bullies that targeted her in her old school would use this as another way to torment her. Ever since then, the two of you vowed that the moment you could escape your old lives together, you would. A promise that was held together through a virtual pinky promise. But the most challenging thing about your dream was how unsure you were of the the relationship you held there, was it platonic? Was it romantic? It had gone almost unsaid that there were some underlying feelings between the two of you. Sometimes things were a little too suggestive, a little too flirtatious and if you were completely honest with yourself.
You were completely head over heels in love with Demi.
Yet so clueless to her own feelings, to know if she reciprocated them or if the way the two of you sometimes interacted was more to her too.
"So tomorrow, you're going to wake up and you're going to put on some ugly ass dress your mother has picked. You're going to listen to her snobby friends tell you what universities you should go to and what you should do with you life because after you've finished school, you're coming straight back here, ok? Straight back to me and I'm never letting you leave again."
