Chapter Text
Based on the prompt: "I've been in love with you since we were kids" from the 50 Fluff Prompts from Zephyrme on Tumblr.
Senior Year, Spinelli's POV, Prom
You Traded Your Baseball Cap for a Crown
The room closes in. Even though everyone backs away, forming a circle of air around me as if I'm massively contagious, I feel like I can't breathe. Every single eye in this whole stupid banquet hall is on me. I take a few shaky breaths, staying rooted to my spot, hoping there isn't some spotlight that will come down on me too. That's just what I need. More attention.
The dance floor parts like the Red Sea, stupidly comical, unbelievably cheesy, and I can see TJ at the front of the room, already standing next to the DJ. The crown on his head is slightly askew, just like it was when we were younger, the Ashleys' glittery plastic creation fitted to his backwards cap.
It should be easy, taking the few steps across the dance floor in his direction, but my feet stay rooted in their place, my entire body shaking, sweat dripping down my back.
The DJ frowns and lifts the microphone to his lips again. "Ashley? Are you still here?"
Instead of moving toward the front, I turn and sprint. My bare feet slap against the wooden floor as I pick up the train of my dress.
There's not very many places to go. We're in a hotel which is surrounded by a parking lot. The Ashleys had wanted a big production but the class funds barely had enough money to rent the school's gymnasium. I don't know which Ashley's father pulled out his checkbook, but someone must have. I'm not exactly privy to the ledgers of the student senate, but it's not hard to guess that most of the real ritzy places were out of our budget.
But it doesn't matter, just being outside is enough. The cool early spring night prickles my sweaty skin and I run until I reach a guardrail that blocks cars from accidentally careening into the hotel pool. I take deep breaths, in and out, remembering what Gretchen had instructed me over the phone.
In and out, she had said when I'd called her one time in tears. Deep breaths. Focus on something else.
That's always easy for her to say. How am I supposed to focus on anything else besides the fact that my name of all names was announced as Prom Queen. Me! I wasn't even in the running. All four Ashleys were on the ballot and a handful of other popular girls, mostly cheerleaders and some of the better athletes, but not me.
I didn't even want to come to this stupid thing. Dances are not my thing. But Mikey had wanted to go so badly and when he'd gone to buy his ticket and Ashley Q had snickered about him only buying one for himself, insinuating that he wasn't cool enough to have a date, I'd impulsively bought my own ticket.
My mother had been thrilled. Took me to get my hair and nails done, bought me a dress without putting her nose up too much, and cried when she took our pictures. Mikey, of course, spent the entire ride to the dance thanking me for coming with him, to which I just blew him off, yeah yeah yeah, you're lucky we're friends, blah blah blah. Gretchen had said that Prom was a milestone I'd probably regret not going to one day and so I put on my big girl dress.
Now I wish I was still at home, curled up in my sweats, watching Carrie. It's so much easier watching it than living it.
My chest tightens and I wonder if maybe this is the end for me. I'm not having a panic attack, it's a heart attack this time. At least it'd be a hell of a way to go out. Girl, 17, dies of natural causes at local prom. Drops dead in the parking lot after being named Prom Queen. More at eleven.
I feel him, the way his body blocks the wind, before I see him out of the corner of my eye. His hands clutch the guardrail, only inches away from mine, and my stomach flops. I don't need to turn to see who it is. Even though I haven't had more than passing conversation with TJ in years, he's not someone that's easy to forget.
"I swear I didn't know," he says softly. "If I did, I never would have let it happen."
I believe him. Despite his popularity, TJ is a good kid. No, he's a great kid, the type of All-American boy that only exists in movies and teen novels. Everybody loves TJ, even me once upon a time, and he'd never willingly go out of his way to hurt someone, even if that someone hurt him.
"I know who did it," I tell him.
He doesn't ask. He probably assumes one of the Ashleys. Ashley Q, specifically, hates my guts, but the rest of them aren't particularly fond of me either. It's none of them though. I know for a fact this is Megan King. It has her sticky fingerprints all over it. She's been trying to humiliate me for years and finally succeeded. It'd make me feel a whole hell of a lot worse if we hadn't just read Carrie in English class. At least she's not smart enough to come up with her own ideas.
"Yeah, I'm sorry that Sam's such an idiot."
I spin my head to look at him so fast I get whiplash. TJ doesn't look at me, his fingers tapping against the metal of the guardrail. It's rare to see TJ Detweiler sheepish. He has always had a cocky confidence that was more charming than annoying. His charisma carried him through school when his grades didn't.
"Sam?" I ask, both flabbergasted and unduly upset. My tone is more that of a rottweiler, growling rather than the small, breathless one from earlier.
TJ swallows hard and finally turns to look at me. His crown is still lopsided on his head and only becomes more so when he shrugs, wincing and looking remorseful.
"Sam Thomas, you remember him," he says.
Of course I remember Sam and his twin brother Dave, who used to find enjoyment out of seeing how deep they could dig a hole every recess, only to become popular once their digging translated into muscle. They were big names on the football and baseball teams, and good friends with TJ and Vince. Part of that popular crowd.
I narrow my eyes. "Why would Sam want to embarrass me?"
TJ looks confused and shakes his head, holding up at his hands in mock surrender. "Embarrass you?" he asks, his voice pitchy. "Spinelli, that whole thing was for me."
Oh, yes, embarrass the Golden Boy by having him paired at prom with the weird girl from elementary school. I see now. Put perfect TJ Detweiler, who should be paired with Ashley A in her bubblegum pink gown, with the girl who sits with the misfits. Ha ha. Very funny, Sam.
I cross my arms. "Can't stand to be seen with me, Detweiler?"
TJ sighs, leaning his head back. The crown finally falls off, landing with a crack on the pavement behind him. He winces at the sound, but then lifts his head back toward me, his eyes focused on mine. In the moonlight, they shimmer, almost like they're wet. He sighs angrily, stuffing his hands into his pockets, probably so they'll stop shaking.
I've done that trick before.
"I think it was always the opposite, wasn't it?" he retorts.
TJ doesn't often get angry. Frustrated? Yes. Self-righteous? Of course. But angry for the sake of being angry? No, I'm the only person in this whole damn town that seems to be able to pull that emotion out of him.
"I never really fit with your reputation, did I?" he grumbles.
I groan, upset and angry just like him. Now he's got me all hot and bothered. "Not this again."
"Again?" TJ asks, his voice high. "We never talked about it at all!"
"I didn't want to."
He laughs. "Oh, I didn't realize it was only about you."
I hate him. I hate everything about him. TJ Detweiler has always been able to pinpoint every flaw I have and throw it in my face. My selfishness. My defensiveness. My inability to be the person he needed me to be. The school may put TJ on a pedestal but it's because he deserves to be there. Me? Well, there's a reason why I'm standing in a parking lot without a crown.
I grind my teeth together and tap my barefoot on the pavement. The memories come rushing back. The first day of sixth grade coincided with the special test Gretchen had to do for her fancy math and science secondary school. TJ was planning on introducing his bodyguards to the playground. Over the summer, Gus had grown a whole head taller than me and so he beat me out for the second guard position. To make me feel less offended, TJ offered something ridiculous.
"You asked me to be Queen of the Playground," I mumble. I pick at my nails, the polish already coming off with my anxiety. "What was I supposed to say?"
He stares at me like I've lost my mind. "All you had to say was no."
"I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
He laughs. "So, you shattered them instead?"
By the time Gretchen returned from Little Rock the next day, TJ and I weren't on speaking terms. Vince, Gus, and Mikey had been caught in the middle. Vince, obviously, sided with TJ. Gus, being a bodyguard, did as well, though he seemed a little more nervous about it. Mikey didn't choose a side, but at ballet he often tried to needle out of me what had gone down to see if he could fix it.
But how could he? TJ asked me to be the Queen of the Playground, a position that didn't exist, when I had a massive crush on him. Accepting would be a blinking sign over my head. I'd never hear the end of it. TJ and the boys were still a little far from crushes at that point. They didn't understand. And, of course, I wasn't about to out myself to them, even if they did understand.
So…I may or may not have pushed him in the dirt, told him to never talk to me again, and insinuated that he disrespected me.
He tried everything in private. He came to my window and threw pebbles. He got on his bike and rode beside us while I was walking Scruffy. He even knocked on my door and talked to my parents. But he never tried to cross me in public because he knew me so well. Even if he didn't know why I was so adamantly against talking to him, he knew trying to apologize in front of the playground would just push me further away.
Then, we all moved on to Spiro Agnew and Gretchen left for Little Rock. Vince and TJ convinced Gus to go to baseball camp that summer and the three of them became like the stupid three musketeers, Gus effectively taking the spot in the trio that I'd held since kindergarten. Mikey remained neutral for a while, but once we hit high school, those three were enveloped into their little stereotypical hierarchy and Mikey was left with me. We still danced together for a while before he started to focus more on his singing, but he still offered me a spot at the lunch table with the rest of the choir and musical kids.
I said no. But eventually eating in an empty classroom lost its appeal. Especially when Gretchen got in trouble for being on the phone at lunch hour and got her phone taken away by her fancy private school lunch attendant, and I had no one to talk to at all.
TJ didn't look too shattered. I watched him sometimes from my spot with the singers. It was more interesting to watch him than listen to what Brandon had to say in his sing-song voice. TJ would sit with Vince and Gus on either side, with Sam, Dave, and a rotating crew of popular jocks and golden boys. Girls joined them in sophomore year. Cheerleaders, all smiley, peppy, and bubbly in a way that suited TJ perfectly.
His eyes would flit to mine every so often and every time they did, I turned away. I didn't like the heartburn that always seemed to follow our eye contact. Or the way I felt nauseous from my stomach flopping nervously when I caught his blue eyes on me.
"Look, shouldn't you go back in there?" I demand. "Dance with whoever it was that was supposed to win?"
He sighs.
"Well, I wasn't supposed to win either," he says. "I'm sure they've found the real count by now."
I narrow my eyes before realizing that someone had to count the votes. Class President TJ probably knows the winning combination. It was why he probably looked so surprised to hear his own name. I had assumed when his name was called before mine that he was just being humble.
"You weren't the real winner?" I ask.
He laughs and shakes his head. "As if Vince didn't win in a landslide." Then he shrugs. "No, they just…I guess they got tired of watching me watch you."
I bite my lip, fighting to keep the fluttering butterfly wings in my stomach from flying away.
"What?" I breathe out. "You're being ridiculous."
"Am I?" he asks. I glance up through my lashes. He doesn't move to approach me, but his eyes stare with an intensity that envelopes me all the same. "Up until a few weeks ago, I still held out hope that you'd forgive me for whatever I did wrong."
The truth is that TJ didn't do anything wrong. He just wanted me to feel included when he knew choosing Gus as his second bodyguard was going to hurt my feelings. I overreacted, as I'm prone to doing, and like he said, I'm too selfish to admit that I was in the wrong.
"Look, I'm sorry," he says firmly. "No one meant to embarrass you. They just wanted me to shoot my shot, but I can see it's not wanted and I'm not the type of person to push my feelings on someone." He nods, a sad smile on his face. "So, have a good rest of your night, Spinelli. I'm glad you came."
He turns and walks away, not even looking back or slowing down like he's expecting me to change my mind. I swallow my fear and shout for him.
"TJ, wait!" He stops, turning around. "What do you mean, push your feelings on me? What feelings?"
"Spinelli," he says, warningly.
I know I'm asking too much. He just insisted that it was against his Perfect Moral Code, but I need to know. So, I give him a look that a long time ago would have given him permission, but I'm not sure he understands it any longer.
So, instead, I suck in a deep breath and tell him the truth.
"I was scared that by accepting the Queen title, the playground would make fun of me for having a massive crush on you," I admit. His eyebrows rising into his hairline is the only indication of his surprise at my confession. "And, yeah, at the time, my reputation was more important than my feelings for you, so I pushed you away and I regretted it ever since."
He sucks in a breath and, when my confession hangs between us for a second too long, I gesture for him to hurry up with my hand.
"Your turn," I say, my voice way too frantic.
He swallows hard, staring at me like I'm about to disappear, and says, so quietly I can barely hear him, "I've been in love with you since we were kids."
My mouth drops. That's a whole lot heavier than mine. But TJ's been known to hyperbolize, or at least he was, a long time ago, when he dreamed of being president or Senor Fusion or both at the same time.
"You're making that up," I insist.
He shakes his head.
I roll my eyes. "You've had plenty of girlfriends."
"Yeah, but none of them stuck," he says.
I vaguely remember that TJ didn't come to prom with a date. The rest of his stupid entourage did, walking through the doors with Ashleys and Katies and Taylors hanging off their arms. TJ walked in alone, but he was always such a life-of-the-party type of guy that it didn't seem weird that the only other singletons arriving to the dance besides him were Randall and Menlo.
"Why not?" I ask.
He gives me a look that clearly says don't make me say it. But I don't care. We've let so many things go unsaid for years. Now's the time to get everything out in the open.
He blows out a breath and adds, "They weren't you."
"Yeah, they were a lot nicer than me," I say.
He shrugs, a little half smirk playing with his lips.
Everything feels like too much right now. Between the confessions and the embarrassment from earlier, I feel like I'm in a nightmare where I'm finally reaching the good part. Before long, I'll wake up and all of this will be a dream. Tomorrow, I'll go to school and TJ will be sitting at his table, some girl on his arm that isn't me, and this conversation will be lost in the hazy fog of sleep. Because it doesn't make sense to me that after how terrible I was TJ is still here.
"How can you say you love me?" I ask. "I've been so horrible."
"You were just scared." He shrugs. "To be honest, I didn't exactly put you in the best situation."
My eyes are starting to water.
"You don't even know me anymore."
And he doesn't. And I don't know him. Not really. Not outside the stares and the glances. Sure I can tell him all my observations and he can do the same. But we've spent so much time away from each other, separated by stupidity, that we'll never get back.
He takes a single step forward, almost like a signal. He's stepping in, stepping up, and ready to start over again. Forgive and forget.
"Then let's start with friends," he suggests.
I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. We both share a smile before TJ holds out his hand. I'm normally not a touchy person, but I immediately reach for him. His hand is so much bigger now, stronger and more calloused than I remember, but still familiar. He gives my hand a squeeze and nods his head to a little bench outside the lobby entrance.
"I don't know about you, but I'm okay hanging out here for a little while," he says. "We can just talk. I've missed that."
"Me too," I agree.
For the first time in a long time, I think something good might happen.