Second best

I weave through the crowds of mangled bodies.
People scream into my ears and their yells echo through the veins of my body. There is too much noise.
I can't concentrate. I can't find anyone. My eyes search for familiar faces. I can't find him. Enough yelling and pushing. You're not whom I'm looking for.

There.
There you are. We lock eyes through the mass of coloured heads. You reach for me through the tangled limbs.
Our fingers brush and we're together finally. With hands interlocked, we dance through the blur of strangers. It doesn't matter. They don't matter. You pull me in close, our bodies moulding into each other. You press into my collarbone and burn my skin. You leave your territorial marks all over my neck. You stare at me with your smirk, daring me to protest. But I don't.

Until I remember.

'Don't you have a girl friend?'

'I love her but I'm allowed to like you, aren't I?'

I don't reply. My answer catches in my throat. I don't know if I like the idea of being second best.

I don't remember Prince Charming to be such a prick.