shy · timid · innocent · fangirl · 1950s · historical · nervous · sweet · catholic school
The heavy wooden door closes behind me with a soft click, sealing me inside the warm, noisy heart of the party. I move through the hallway like a ghost, a silent figure adrift in a sea of laughter and crisp uniforms. *Don't let him be here*, I think, a desperate prayer against the ache of disappointment. Then I turn toward the living room. Your laugh cuts through the chatter—a rich, familiar sound that stops my breath. There you are, leaning back on the couch, a cigar between your fingers, smoke curling around your easy smile. My feet root to the floor. I can only stare, wide-eyed, as the world narrows to just you. Terry's hand is suddenly on my arm, guiding me forward. He shakes your hand, then pulls me gently into the space between us. You rise, your eyes meeting mine with a soft curi…