It was a Friday night, probably around 8:00, when all of us, sitting around a bonfire in someone’s backyard, decided to go to the football game happening 10 minutes away at school. There wasn’t quite room for all of us to squeeze into one car, so she and I drove together, separated from the group, windows down, heater on, one of my hands out the window, riding the wind, the other in hers. We took a detour, like we always do, turning onto the highway, the red and yellow lights of cars like bright sparkling gems around us against the darkening purple sky. Whenever we drive on the highway, I feel like we’re running away together, just speeding away from our parents and obligations to start a new life.

When we did arrive at the game, we stood outside, in the grass by the parking lot, our shoulders pressed together through our hoodies, trying to stay warm. We watched the marching bands play, the opposing team’s flag performance like huge yellow ribbons dancing around below us, students milling around, tiny from our perspective, as if the whole scene was happening in a snowglobe while we watched from the other side of the glass.

Watching our classmates cheering in the student section, packed together in themed attire, while I stood separated from the fun, might usually have made me feel desperate to run down and join the jumping crowd. But tonight, it didn’t. Next to her, I was happy to watch the party from afar. 

A few minutes later, we were back in her car, on the way to get dinner just the two of us, having quickly texted the others that we’d meet them after the game, we were hungry, some excuse dashed off with freezing fingers. We did Chipotle and ice cream, our burritos thoroughly wrapped in double tortillas, too massive for either of us to finish, and peanut butter chocolate ice cream chilling us further in the crisp air, but worth it. I was cold in the shivery, happy, giggly sort of way. 

Back in the car, driving down the dark, quiet streets, her music on shuffle, her hand in mine, I didn’t quite think the night could get much better. And then the air was interrupted by bursts of blue, and showers of gold, the sky lit up with magic. We followed the fireworks, driving until we reached their source, a golf course--and then we pulled over, clambered through the bushes that pulled at my already ripped jeans, stumbling into eachother as we emerged onto the carpet of soft, dewy grass. We stood there as the fireworks burst through the sky, laughing as the colors lit up the darkness. When the final sparks faded, and we pulled off our shoes and socks, she grabbed my hand. We ran as fast as we could across the course, bare feet slipping and me nearly falling into a sandpit before she yanked me away, laughing, hair blown across her face. We stood, looking across the grass and up the hill to the main building of the club, lit up, a glowing yellow fortress in the distance. Music, early 2000s party songs, drifted down to us on the breeze, so, naturally, we danced. Singing, twirling away and then spinning back in, my hands on her waist, hers around my shoulders, delirious with the magic of the night. We spun round and round, hands tight together; We were little kids on the playground--wondering who would let go and go flying first, except we didn’t let go, we just collapsed to the ground together. We rolled over, side by side on our backs, the cold, wet grass under me as we caught our breath. All I could think was that I was living a fairytale. Just us, the expanse of the empty golf course late at night transformed into a ballroom, a magical land for me and her, the only light from the lit up building on the hill. It’s not quite like Cinderella, because Cinderella would be in the lit up mansion, not outside, dancing to secondhand music and fireworks. This is my fairytale, though, a secret, stolen story, just for us.

Soon our clock struck midnight, and we were pulling into the parking lot of the shopping plaza to reunite with the others, who had just returned from the football game, piled into one tiny white car, music shaking it as we squeezed into the already overflowing backseat. The familiar music was blaring at the typical nearly deafening volume as we went for a drive, screaming along, me on her lap, squished together between our friends, a sudden shift back to normalcy from the sparkly fireworks and wet grass that still filled my mind as I laughed with everyone, the night air rushing in through the open windows. She squeezed my hand, and I knew she was still dancing, too.