Serve

by C.W. Farnsworth

eighteen, I’ve learned people will think what they like and there isn’t much you can do about it. But, God, do I get sick of it.

There are a lot of adjectives that come to mind to describe Georgie, following our one and only meeting. Boring isn’t one of them.

All you need to know is that if it ever comes down to being between my life and yours, I’ll choose yours. That’s what it means to serve.

Georgie is an enigma. Every time I think I have her figured out; she proves me wrong. Party girl. Tennis star. Bratty daughter. Reliable friend. And the harder she is to figure out, the more I want to try to.

I knew he’d be here, and it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact he’s a Secret Service agent and I’m the president’s daughter.

Ethan just seems like the sort of guy who shows up. Who’s solid and reliable.

She’s wrong—that’s not why she’s here. She’s here because I want her to be. Because I decided to force some proximity between us, to test myself and prove I’m under complete control. So far, I’m failing spectacularly.

I stare at her. Trace the features that I could probably paint from memory. The slope of her nose and the curve of her cheek. The one strand of hair that still bears a trace of lavender. The faint, half moon-shaped scar on the left side of her chin. I stare, and I wonder. Is this what falling in love feels like?

a beguiling mixture of hope and heartbreak battling in my chest.

Do you keep falling, after you acknowledge you love someone? Is it a slow tumble or a fast cascade? Can love change or is it always tied to the moment you first acknowledge it? I don’t know. But Ethan keeps humming my favorite song. And I realize: I’m completely and totally, utterly screwed.

From the surface, I look unbothered and serene. Floating around and enjoying life. Underwater, I’m working hard to stay afloat.