"PRESENTING OUR OUR 2022 HOMECOMING KING AND QUEEN— GAVIN MAXWELL AND JULIA WOODS!"

Mr. Robertson ushered us up the stairs as the crowd roared with applause. I heard the distinct sounds of whooping from our classmates, and I beamed at my best friend, Hannah, when I spotted her. She was cheering almost as loud as my mother.

My heel caught on the side of the podium, and I cursed, only loud enough for Gavin to hear, of course. Oh, how I hated heels. My feet were already begging for release, and I'd barely been wearing them twenty minutes.

"That was not very queenly language, Jules," he whispered, eyes crackling with that very particular brand of Gavin mischief I loved so much and knew so well. I stuck my tongue out at him. "Making faces ," he clucked sadly, thumbing my chin, "and here I thought you were a lady."

"You're an idiot," I informed him, leaning against his chest.

Gavin grinned, lacing his fingers through mine, "Yes, but I'm your idiot."

"Oh, lucky me."

"Yeah, lucky you," he brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed my knuckles, smile dancing on his lips. I heard a wolf whistle somewhere in the stands and groaned.

"Do you think that was my mom or yours?" I muttered, as Robertson began droning on about tradition and community. The previous year's court couldn't get here soon enough. My feet were killing.

Gavin rolled his eyes, "It was definitely both of them."

"Definitely," I agreed, sighing resignedly. No one shipped Gavin and Julia like Pip and Lou. I suspected they'd make t-shirts with our faces if they didn't think we'd break up just to spite them for it. His arm slipped around me and I sank into the warmth of his hand on my waist. Gavin could never bear to stop touching me for less than a minute or two, and I hated to admit how much I liked it.

I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wiggling my toes around to prevent them from going completely numb.

"I told you not to wear the heels," Gavin sang quietly.

"You try saying no to Piper Gordon," I hissed back. She was so excited and happy. And how could I deny the woman who had sacrificed everything for me and raised me on her own, her happiness? The answer was simple; I couldn't. No one could, to be fair. Gavin adored my mother. He'd throw me under the bus more than once in an attempt to keep on her good side.

So when I saw the four inch, closed toe silver pumps on my bed this morning, I'd put them on. Though not without sending Gavin several text messages about the "medieval torture devices" in question.

Gavin played absentmindedly with the ends of my hair. "I love your curls," he said, tugging gently on a red strand before tucking it behind my ear. He gazed down at me, brown eyes tripping over my face like he was trying to count my freckles. Maybe he was.

"What?" I ducked my head, trying not to blush. I failed. Miserably.

"What?" he replied innocently.

"The staring."

"I can't help it," he said, his dimples emerging in full force. "I like your face, Woods. And your freckles. And your mouth," his voice was low, and I watched his eyes travel down to my lips as he said it, heat flooding my body. "And your dress..."

"Stop looking at me like that!" I shot him a look. He better like the dress. It was awesome. It was black and tight in all the right places and exposed enough of my back that my mother had raised an eyebrow when I'd come home with it.

"Like what?"

"Like you want to ravage me right here and now on the football field in front of the entire town."

"Julia Woods," Gavin clutched his heart dramatically, "how dare you accuse me of such unseemly thoughts. I am a gentleman."

I snorted loudly. Too loudly. Mr. Robertson paused, brows drawing together slightly as he gifted us with a significant amount of side eye before continuing with his speech. I could feel my mother's reprimanding frown, and knew, without a shred of doubt, that beside her, Lou was shaking her head. The two of them were probably commiserating over their embarrassing children as we spoke.

Gavin's shoulders shook with silent laughter, tears in his eyes. I could've killed him

"I hate you," I moaned, burying my face in his shoulder. But I was trying to keep from giggling too. And Gavin knew it.

"Nah," he grinned, "you don't."

"My feet hurt," I complained, slumping against him. I felt like we'd been standing for days.

"Poor baby," he pouted, jutting out his bottom lip.

I glared at him, "Are you mocking my pain?"

"Jules, just take off the shoes," he chuckled, pressing his nose into my hair.

"You just want to see my feet, perv," I retorted, scrunching up my nose. Gavin pinched the underside of my elbow and I squealed. Thankfully, it was covered by the clapping crowd, because last year's royalty had arrived. I breathed a sigh of relief. The end was in sight.

I watched as Christina and Cal walked up to join us, noting that Christina had embraced bleach even further in the months spent away from Lovingston, and that Cal had decided to grow a goatee. It was hideous. I hadn't been particularly close with either of them over the course of high school. Cal moved here just for senior year from Germany, very pretty— it was why he'd been voted king. And Christina was popular, vapid, and also pretty. They didn't know each other well either. Had been voted simply for the sake of aesthetic.

Cal had been artsy, in AV club and all that, and Christina was a cheerleader. Needless to say, they hadn't exactly run in the same circles at school. But they did make a very pretty pair.

"I should've known it'd be you two," Christina smiled at me, wide and lipsticked. "How sweet," she embraced me. I was pretty sure she thought it was anything but sweet.

"It's so good to see you," I hummed, patting her shoulder until she released me. Her perfume was heavy and sickeningly sugary.

"You dirty little liar," Gavin smirked, his breath hot on the back of my neck. It was no secret I hadn't cared for Christina much. At least, not to Gavin. I found her shallow, and...okay, maybe I didn't love the way she looked at my boyfriend. Whatever.

We were subjected to waiting again, as Robertson rattled off thank you after thank you. I rested my head on Gavin's shoulder, reaching down for his hand. He looked down, smiling softly.

"You're doing it again," I murmured, as he circled his thumb across the back of my hand.

"Doing what?"

"Looking at me like you want to kiss me."

"I do want to kiss you," he said, "I always want to kiss you."

"Now for the passing of crowns," declared Robertson, motioning us couples forward.

"My feet are going to fall off," I whined lowly, shuffling to the center to accept Christina's crown. I could tell she wasn't too happy about relinquishing it. There was a glint in Gavin's eyes I knew meant trouble. It was the same as it had been whenever he'd convinced me to climb a tree or pick up a frog or dared me to ride my bike. I recognized it a second too late.

"If we could have one moment, Mr. Robertson," Gavin cut in loudly, clearing his throat. Our principal looked slightly caught off guard at being interrupted, but he was used to Gavin being Gavin, and was more bemused than anything else. Color rose high in my cheeks as Gavin knelt and carefully eased my heels off of my feet.

"What are you doing?" I shook my head, unable to keep from beaming like an idiot.

"Being a gentleman," he winked shamelessly, and stood, my heels in his hand like he'd won a prize. "You're welcome," Gavin's lips grazed my temple, and everyone in the stands "awwwwed" as if on cue. He huffed a laugh, "They love us."

"They love you," I corrected, rolling my eyes. Because of course they did. I did too, after all.

"That too," he grinned, and I swatted him across the chest. He nodded his head magnanimously at Mr. Robertson, "You may proceed."

Mr. Robertson continued, "As I was saying...congratulations to our homecoming royalty, the crowns have now been passed."

Gavin handed me my shoes and took a very grand bow. Then, he bent and beckoned me over, "Your chariot awaits, Queen Julia."

I hopped happily up on his back, and he carried me the whole way to the car.

"I love you, Gav," I whispered into his ear, pressing a kiss to his jaw. I was obsessed with the way his hair curled at the nape of his neck.

"Yeah, I know," he teased. I promptly clocked the side of his head with my discarded heels.

"I love you too, Jules," Gavin breathed, voice tender and incredibly soft. "You and me, forever."

Forever.