I never thought I'd be a person who showed a ton of PDA with her boyfriend, but here we are.
Jack and I are on the dance floor, slow dancing to a rendition of All of Me by John Legend and every couple of seconds, Jack will kiss me. When we're not kissing, my head is resting on his shoulder.
If time were to freeze in this very instant, I would oblige. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than in this moment with Jack.
In life, we tend to picture the person we could end up with. My picture always looked like this: whoever I ended up with, we would just click. No matter what, it would make sense. He'd get me and I'd get him in a way where explanations weren't needed. There would be this ease, this feeling where I'd just know that I'm in the right place. And with Jack, I know all that. I feel all that. My happiness knows no bounds and I feel as though I could conquer anything. It's an emotion I wouldn't trade for the world; one I hope to never lose.
I open my eyes to find Jack's dad watching us from the side of the dance floor. He doesn't look happy, and it unsettles me. He's in conversation with another guy, and while his lips are moving to talk, his vision doesn't waver.
I know he hates that I'm here. I know he wishes that it were Jordana dancing with Jack. I know she wishes that, too, because I spot her off to the side with her parents, holding a cocktail like she's fooling everyone that it's a mocktail.
I'm the one who's here with Jack, but I can't help but wonder what he thought when he saw Jordana walk in tonight wearing a strapless, red fitted gown. She's pretty, there's no denying that.
"Hey. What are you thinking about?" Jack softly asks, whispering in my ear. It's enough to snap me out of my daze and focus on this moment between us.
I pull my face back and look him in the eyes. "Just how happy I am to be here with you."
"Me, too," he smiles, cupping my cheek in his palm, "me, too."
The song ends, and Bea walks over to me and Jack. She looks beautiful and is wearing a white halter gown that's tied by a bow in the back.
"Anastasia, I'm so happy you're here," she tells me with a wide smile. She wraps her arms around my back, which are covered in diamond bangles, and welcomes me with a warm embrace.
"Thank you so much for having me," I tell her.
"You look beautiful, mom," Jack says, and I can tell by the way that he looks at her just how much he loves her.
Bea reaches for Jack's cheek and holds it in her palm. "And you look very handsome, sweetie."
"Bea, would you mind cutting in?" I intentionally ask her. "I'm going to get something to drink."
"If I must," she teases.
"Thanks," I smile. "Would you like anything from the bar?"
"I'm good," she says, and I look at Jack.
"No thanks, babe," he says, leaning in to kiss me before I can walk away.
I make it to the bar and tell the bartender, "Just a glass of water, please."
"What a night, huh?" I hear a voice say to my left. I shift my body in that direction to find Peter Carrington standing beside me in his fancy tux.
I'm caught off-guard, for sure, but don't want to make it seem that way, so I say, "This party is magnificent. Thank you for inviting me."
"I didn't," he tells me. "Jack did." I curtly nod because how is one supposed to answer that, then gaze out at the dance floor. "I don't know how you did it, but you have him wrapped around your tiny little finger." The waiter comes back with my water, and I take it from him. "Cheers," Peter says, lifting his crystal glass of scotch up in the air. He takes a sip as I just stand there. "Jack says you have your sights set on Dartmouth. How ambitious of you. Since you're the only person my son listens to these days, maybe you can try talking some sense into him. Convince him to go to Dartmouth and study Business instead of this stupid writing school he's so seemingly passionate about."
A few weeks ago, Jack mentioned to me that he had his sights set on a small, private Creative Arts school for college. When he was telling me about it, his eyes lit up, and I was so happy to hear how passionate he was about his future.
"Jack's an amazing writer, Mr. Carrington. I think he should pursue his dreams."
"Dreams are overrated. They don't mean anything. This is the real world, Anastasia. My son is fortunate to have opportunities lined up for him; opportunities that I've created for him. I'm not going to sit back and watch him destroy that to be some amateur writer."
"No offense, Mr. Carrington, but maybe if you had some faith in your son, you'd see his potential. Jack's going to do great things. He has a lot to offer this world."
Peter takes a sip from his crystal glass and sucks his cheeks in. I know that he doesn't respect my response, but I don't respect him for devaluing Jack's potential.
"My son's going to go to Dartmouth. He's going to study Business. And whatever this little high school romance you have going on between the two of you is going to end, do you hear me?"
"With all due respect, Mr. Carrington, I don't owe you anything. I love your son and I'm not going to walk away from him because you're telling me to."
He chuckles condescendingly, placing the cup down on the bar. "You see, Ms. Moore, that's where you're wrong. I know that your father's the head chef at Sinclair Prep. I also know that SP operates on the money that I give them every year."
"What are you saying?" I ask, squinting my eyes.
"Let's just say, I have a lot of power over the decisions that get made at Sinclair Prep. All I have to do is say the word, and your father can kiss his job goodbye."
"Stay away from my dad. Don't bring him into this."
"Then stay away from my son. I won't tell you again." He reaches for the cup and takes the last sip of his cocktail before pushing it toward the bar. "Enjoy the rest of your night, Ms. Moore."