Burning Up

"The key to the perfect promposal is always a t-shirt cannon" Emily said. I personally disagreed, but that look in her blue eyes had always shut me up. It was the look that said, you can't change my mind. I guess I had fallen for her confidence and attitude, the same way that a meteor is attracted to the pull of the earth. I'd be happy to burn up in her atmosphere.

Instead, I asked, "What would the t-shirt say?"

She laughed, tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. I imagined this same expression would be on her face when I finally asked her to prom, pure elation.

"What the t-shirt says doesn't matter. They're gifts to everyone watching."

I imagined what dress she'd look best in. She would probably wear black, but it would be striking since it was on her. Maybe it would have a mesh cutout lined with crystals, or golden lace designs. She would look stunning. I'd have to wear black to match with her, and we would still be blinding.

"Oh, who's watching?" I smiled at her, caught up in her excitement.

"Everyone!" She stretched out her arms and for a moment I felt like she was stretching her wings. I thought of Icarus, too close to the sun. Was she the birds I was trying to emulate, or the sun that would melt my wings. I don't care either way. Her voice sounded like bird song, "Everyone came outside to see the marching band and the cheerleaders. The cheerleader's set off confetti cannons and the band holds up signs that ask if I'll go to prom with you."

"What's the band playing?"

She pauses in her speech, looking into the distance before grinning,

"Burning Up by the Jonas Brothers"

I'm caught off guard and laugh. I can see it now, the band marching into our school's little parking lot with cheerleaders confetti raining everywhere. Someone is throwing t-shirts into the crowd, but who cares what they say. The t-shirts don't matter because no matter what's written on them, they won't speak in her voice or smell like her hair. She's wrapped me up in a golden thread and I'm stuck forever. Like a spider catches a fly, I'll be devoured.

As our laughter quiets, I ask, "So where am I in all this?"

"You..." She points at me and pauses for dramatic effect, "will be riding a white stallion! Or- maybe you'll be in a carriage drawn by a white stallion!"

Maybe I should be dressed in white. Then we can be yin and yang, perfect opposites that are always in harmony. I can get her a white corsage and I'll get a black tie.

"The stallion is the important part, huh?"

"Absolutely! I'll only go with someone who has a horse."

"And what if I can't get one?"

"Well, then. I guess I'll have to go with someone else."

We laugh together and I can feel the heat radiating from her.