“He said, ‘Let’s get out of this town, drive out of the city, away from the crowds.’” 

As we drove through the streets of New York City, away from the gala, away from the people, I looked over to my left and see the person I am running away with. His long blonde hair is blowing in the wind and his blue eyes look red from the break lights up ahead. He looks back at my and gives me a closed-mouth half smile. He pays the steering wheel anxiously and that’s when I know something is wrong. 

“What’s up?” I ask, hoping for the best but anticipating the worst.

“Nothing,” he replies, so monotone I know he’s having second thoughts.

“Do you wanna turn back?” I ask, knowing I’ll regret it.

“I just don’t want to leave my family without saying goodbye and, I don’t know, maybe running away isn’t the best idea.”

“Ok fine,”  I say, “Turn around then.”

As he dropped back off at my house, I watched him drive away from the curb. I was supposed to be with him driving away, but I wasn’t.

My best friend came outside and I fell into her arms, crying, and saying, “I thought that we would be the greatest story that I tell.”