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Harry and Allie are walking hand in hand out of the prom with the rest of the group when the night ends. Their alcohol intake providing a calm buzz, save for Clark and Jason who are absolutely hammered.
“Do you think West Ham is doing exactly what we’re doing right now,” Allie asks loud enough for the whole group to hear.
They’re making their way towards their respective houses, soon enough they’ll hit the fork in the road where they’ll have to split ways for the night. Harry tightens his hold on her hand and brings it up to his lips and kisses the back of it, looking at her.
“I hope they are. I hope things have some sort of happiness and normalcy,” Becca says from the side, holding the length of her dress in her hands.
“Wherever they are,” Luke comments, bringing a level of seriousness to the group.
“What if this is it, you know? What if this is the rest of our lives?”
Elle has always had a knack for being abrasive and stating the thing that everyone tries so hard to avoid most of the time. Allie usually loves her more for it, usually. This time her candor gives Allie a sense of anxiousness, rolling on the back of her spine.
“Everything happens for a reason, Elle. Even this,” Helena responds, calming everyone’s nerves instantly. They reach their middle parting soon after.
“Well this is us, see you guys in the morning,” Becca cuts in.
Harry and Allie split ways with the rest of the group, making the direction towards their houses. Cassandra still doesn't let Allie spend the night at Harry’s, even though they’ve been going out a year and don’t have their parents around to tell her no anymore. Besides, she figures, there’s enough time to live with Harry and her days living with Cassandra are limited. He’s only a couple blocks away anyways.
“What do you think, Bingham,” she voices.
“Hmm?”
“New Ham, the rest of our lives. How’s that sound?”
“New Ham? Not appealing,” he comments.
He feels her grip loosen in her hands and he backtracks.
“Allie Pressman? For the rest of my life? Yes, absolutely yes.”
He smiles and tugs her until his arm is around her shoulders.
They reach Allie’s yard and make their way up the steps and onto the porch. The lights are still out, meaning Cassandra hasn't made it back from Prom, but Allie doesn't worry yet.
She opens the door and takes the first step in, turns around, and faces him. He's leaning against the doorframe from outside, arms crossed. She thinks if she took a picture of him it would belong somewhere in a model catalogue.
“Looks like you’re all alone in this big house. You think you can manage without me, Pressman,” he questions her smirking.
“You’re the one who wants me for the rest of his life, remember,” she counters back with her own smirk.
He laughs and leans over to kiss her, slowly.
His lips hover above hers as he says, “Don’t you forget it.”
He leans back and starts walking away when she calls for his attention again.
“You know that you don’t own me, right,” she half yells smiling.
He pauses, his back to her, remembering a similar conversation with Kelly from what felt like a different lifetime ago. He turns slowly to look at her, lips upturned the slightest.
“Maybe not,” he pauses looking away for a second before he continues, “but you own me.”
She thinks if she wasn't leaning on the doorway the words would melt her to the floorboards. He smiles at her reaction and begins walking away backwards, locking eyes with her until he reaches the sidewalk and stalks home quietly.
Tomorrow would be a different day.