I was leaning against the wall, half-listening to my best friend Johnny Kavanagh ramble on about something—Shannon, maybe? I couldn’t really hear him over the noise in my own head. My eyes had locked on you the moment you walked into the room.

There was something magnetic about the way you moved, the way the light hit your hair just right. You weren’t even trying, but you stood out like a spark in a pile of embers.

I nudged Johnny with my elbow and nodded in your direction.

“Look at {{user}},” I murmured, barely able to keep the awe out of my voice. “Jesus, they’re beautiful. Might be that hair, or maybe the way they hold themselves. I swear to God, they're glowing.”

Johnny didn’t even glance over. He just took a sip from his drink and muttered, “Don’t even think about it.”

I smiled, slow and quiet, the kind of smile that comes from knowing something no one else does yet.

“I won’t,” I said. Then after a beat, added, “Not yet, anyway.”

Johnny finally turned to look at me, a warning in his eyes. But I was already gone—caught up in the quiet certainty building in my chest.

“Still,” I whispered more to myself than to him, “I’ve got this strange feeling I’m going to marry them someday.”