The plants, the lights, the sheets. I did my best to make it look like the tents at the wedding, with some extra ideas from Mom’s Pinterest board. The sheets paint the walls a soft white, though with the hanging lights, they’ve turned a warm orange. I probably didn’t need the flowers and plants, but I felt like it sold the image of a dream wedding.

“What is this?” they ask, standing there with their suitcase in one hand and their guitar in the other.

“Well.” I stand there in the middle of the room, trying not to look awkward as hell. “I promised you a dance. And you never got it.”

“Neil—”

I step closer to them, holding out my hand. “Can I have this dance, Wyatt Fowler?”

They smile at me and set their things down, closing the door behind them before they take my hand.

“Only if I can lead.”

“Of course.”

They take me to the center of the room. Our hands are outstretched together, and their left hand is on the small of my back. I follow their steps, which isn’t much more than shuffling back and forth with each other, but it feels nice.

It feels like home.

They feel like home.

I put my head against their chest, listening to the thudding of their heart along with the music.

Maybe it’s cheesy, a little too on the nose as Carly Rae Jepsen sings about a boy showing her that she wants him. But the song tells Wyatt everything I want them to know. That I want to be their friend, that I want to be a home, that I want to show them that I care about them any way that I possibly can.

And I hope that they can find the same in me.

I never really knew what it felt like to fall in love before.

That’s what I told myself, at least.

I’d never let myself feel those feelings. I told myself that they were bad, that they would only end in tragedy, that I’d only get my heart broken.

But I’d gladly let Wyatt Fowler break my heart.

As many times as they want to.

We look at each other, and our lips meet, our mouths open. My hands find their cheeks as I pull them in closer and closer. I love that Wyatt’s kisses already feel familiar to me.

“I can’t believe you did all this,” they say when we pull away for air.

“I owed you a dance,” I reply. “I wanted to make it special.”

They take in the atmosphere again. “I’d say that you made this special.”

And then we kiss again, like the world is ending.