Page 24 of My Best Years
She starts to chuckle, and our laughter creates a symphonythat feels like home. I love laughing with Birdie. I’ve been laughing with her since we were in the third grade, and it’s still the most carefree experience I’ve ever had. It’s familiar and calming. Safe and peaceful.
“You missed it,” she adds. “Mason ran off the dance floor, whimpering and clutching his crotch. I think I actually saw a tear roll down his face. If he wanted attention, he definitely got it.”
I think I’m the one crying now. Crying with laughter as tears leak from the corners of my eyes.
“Shit, I hope somebody filmed that,” I pant, trying to catch my breath. “God, I love you, Birdie.”
As soon as the words leave my lips, a quiet void fills the space between us.
And then, the whole world seems to pause.
Birdie stops laughing, which in return makes me stop. Because if our laughter isn’t mixed together, it might as well be silence. A blank tune.
It’s then I realize that I’ve never told Birdie that I love her. Of course, it’s an unspoken sentiment between two best friends. But I’ve never uttered those three words to her, and she’s never said them to me. I guess I just assumed that we both always knew.
There’s no one in the world that I love more than Birdie Wren.
I open my mouth to provide clarification. To tell her that I meant to say I love her like a best friend. To not make things weird between us because I might die if I didn’t have Birdie in my life.
“Birdie, I–”
“I wanted to dance with you tonight,” she admits in a small, timid voice. My heart misses a few beats because all I want is a dance with Birdie.
She’s nervous. I can see it in the way she’s picking at the skin around her nails. For years, I’ve wondered if Birdie has feelings for me too. But even if she did, I think she would be just as afraid as me to ruin our friendship.
“You did?”
“Yeah,” she nods. “I did.”
I swallow thickly at her response.
“Well…” I start awkwardly. “I think we missed our chance. Unless you want me to embarrass you with my one dance move—a fist pump,” I joke.
She laughs and rolls her eyes.
“As hilarious as that visual sounds, I wanted arealdance with you.”
The air between us grows heavy, and our smiles fade to something more serious.
“Me too, Birdie,” I admit. “I wanted that too.”
“So then dance with me,” she responds without missing a beat. “Right here.”
I furrow my brows in confusion as my palms grow sweaty.
“Right here?” I repeat. “Like in the parking lot?”
She looks around before returning her gaze back to me.
“Yeah, why not?” she shrugs. “No one else is out here.”
I wouldn't care if anyone else was out here. Hell, I would want everyone to see me dancing with Birdie.
“Okay,” I rasp, pulling my phone from my suit jacket and pulling up my playlist. “What song do you want to dance to?”
“You pick,” she mutters, barely able to contain her giddy smile.
I stare down at my phone, my thumb trembling over the bright screen as I contemplate whether to play it safe or take a risk.