I spent every moment that I was not at school or asleep with Beth; we all did. Sometimes, I could even convince myself everything was fine. Beth would hide her diminishing frame beneath a blanket as we watched a movie, and I could forget that life as I knew it was ending.

Jake would lean on me more. In the quiet moments, when his mind would wander to thoughts he didn't want to ponder, he would squeeze my hand as a plea to pull him back. It was an appeal for me to murmur something, anything to send his mind on a different course.

Beth's favorite pastime was planning my prom attire; dress, shoes, hair, and makeup. We would spread magazines out over her lap and the couch circling inspiration. Then we would scour the internet for an affordable facsimile.

There was only one problem; I had no date. My most recent boyfriend, Ty, and I had broken up earlier in the Spring. The daunting idea of a long-distant relationship had spoiled many high school relationships, and mine was no different. Ari was keeping close ties on if he asked anyone, but he was still unattached. I just assumed he would eventually ask me, for old-time sake. But then, on a random Tuesday, Ari approached with a mournful look.

"What?" Panic coursed through me as my mind immediately flickered to Beth.

"Ty asked Julie Simmons," she blurted out.

"Oh, thank goodness," I sighed, relieved that it was not Beth.

"What? Why are you so relieved? Whom are you going to go with?" Ari's voice filled with outrage.

I honestly didn't care. I would rather spend the night watching movies with Beth and Jake than some stuffy dance.

"It's fine. Maybe I'll skip it."

"Skip it? Jen, this is our senior prom. You can't 'just skip it.'"

I knew she was right, but it was hard to care about anything other than every moment I could get with Beth.

"I don't know, Ari. I'll think about it tomorrow." It was the only answer I could muster; my mind was already halfway home.

"Jen," Ari called after me as I pushed out the front door of the school.

I didn't bother going to my house when I got home. I had made a habit of going straight to Beth's; my mom was usually there anyway.

"Hey, there's my girl," Beth's voice had a mix of cheer and exhaustion that rubbed against each other.

"Hey, how are you feeling? Do you need anything?" I said as I flopped down on the couch opposite her.

"Nope, I am good. How was your day?"

"Good," I said absently.

"I bet the whole school is buzzing about prom," her eyes gleamed just like Ari's at the topic.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged as my mind momentarily flickered to Ty.

"You guess?" Beth's face clouded with surprise before she chased it away. "Why don't you pick out a movie for this afternoon."

I was lost in the mindless scrolling of movies on the TV when Jake flopped down next to me.

"Hey, Nif," he murmured. He always sounded sleepy lately.

"Jen, could you go get me a glass of iced tea?" Beth asked without looking up from her crossword.

"Yeah, sure," I tossed the remote onto Jake's lap as I got up.

My mom was in the kitchen making dinner. I watched her from the doorway for a moment. She looked as tired as Jake, as tired as I felt.

"Hey, mom," I tried to keep my voice quiet so I didn't startle her.

"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?"

"Good, how was yours?"

"Good," she smiled absently, but it didn't feel genuine.

"Mom, is there anything I can do to help?" My sincerity caught her off-guard.

She gazed at me for a moment as tears began to well in her eyes. "No, honey, but thank you for asking."

"I'm here if you ever want to talk," I added.

She sighed, "I'm supposed to be saying that to you."

"Well, I guess now we are saying it to each other."

I poured Beth's cup of iced tea and headed back to the living room. I heard Jake bickering with Beth causing me to pause outside the door. No one dared to argue with Beth, so I stopped to listen to what they could possibly be disagreeing on.

"Maybe she doesn't want to go," Jake sighed.

"Of course she does; it's her prom."

"I bet she would rather be here with you."

Jake was right; I would have rathered stay home with Beth.

"Ask her, for me. I would love to see the two of you all dressed up. Just think of how gorgeous you two would look in the pictures."

"Mom, I doubt she would even want to go with me. It's not like we are even that close anymore."

"You will never know if you don't ask," Beth's voice managed the air of tease that she rarely mustered anymore.

"Can I even ask her to her prom? Shouldn't she ask me?"

"Just ask her; you two will have so much fun."

I knew Beth wouldn't relent until I returned. I must have been in a pleasant mood because I stepped into the living room to end the constant prodding Jake was facing. Both looked up at me with guilty faces. Had I not overheard them talking about me, I would have still known they were speaking about me.

"Your tea," I smiled as I set the drink down. "What are we watching?" I asked as I flopped back down next to Jake.

"You two pick," Beth fluttered her hands to display her lack of care.

"You pick," Jake added almost instantly.

"Rear Window it is."

It was only mid-afternoon as the opening credits began. We had gotten into the habit of watching a movie before dinner since Beth usually went to bed shortly after eating. Still, as the film started, I could already feel my eyelids growing heavy.

Ever since I had learned about Beth, sleeping had been hard. My mind whirled through all the emotions as I lay in the darkness of my room. I mainly was mad. Why Beth? Of all people, why Beth? It felt so unfair. Even as the anger mounted in me, there was an undercut of sadness. I was sad that I would lose her, but I was primarily sorry for Jake. I would give up Beth if he could keep her. All the strength I had seen in him as we grew up seemed to disappear when I looked at him. He looked like a lost kid.

The thoughts of him made me flick my eyes to him, but they didn't twitch back as I suspected. They lingered on his features, his high cheekbones that flowed into his delicate nose all framed with his floppy flowing curls of dark brown hair. I wanted to run my hands through it and tell him it would be fine, but I knew that was a lie.

It was then that it struck me. I wanted to run my hand through his hair to soothe him. I wanted to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. I wanted to cradle him in my arms and never let another tear fall from his eyes. I did not have a crush on Jake Miller; I was in love with Jake Miller. Almost four years after thinking I had kicked my teen crush, I realized that, in one soul-crushing moment on my precious dock, I had fallen madly in love with him. No longer was the promise that he would never let anything hurt me; now I would be the protector, I would be the strength.

I pulled the blanket from the back of the couch and drew it around me, letting the fibers tickle my nose before falling casually to his side. Absently his arm fell around me, tucking me into his tall frame. I let a hand fall to his chest and felt the beating of his heart. It happened so quickly and pleasantly that it was as though we had done this a million times before, but we hadn't. We had not been this close since we were children.

I don't recall falling asleep. I just remember the moment my mom's gentle touch woke us both.

"Hey, you two," she whispered, "dinner is ready."

I had curled entirely into him, and he had enveloped me in his frame. We were wholly entwined. It was the most comfortable I had felt in weeks, and even though it had only been a few moments of sleep, it was a satisfying sleep. We reluctantly pulled ourselves apart in silence and headed to the dinner table.

The meal was quiet but not somber. Jake and I were still in the lulls of our nap. My parents and Beth chatted in low voices as though we were still asleep. In many ways, it felt like we were in a dream. Maybe I would wake up, and it would be different. Beth would be vibrant and teasing Jake and me about our adorable nap on the couch. My mom would chime in, and I would get to be the disgruntled teenager. As though my thoughts were loud enough for Jake to hear, I felt his hand squeeze my knee. It was nothing more than a reminder that this was our reality.