April, 1993
"Soooo... I'm pretty sure I know the answer to this, seeing as you're my girlllll and all," Brian drawled out, flopping against the locker next to Emma's, "But I know you like things all classic and formal and all and..." he grinned, "Emma Harris, will you go with me to the prom?"
Emma looked up from the stack of books she was busily trying to slam into her locker and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. She smiled, then turned to her locker and continued pushing the books in. "And what if I already got asked by another cute boy and I already said yes to him?" she demanded.
Brian shrugged, "Then I'd ask who that boy is so I can go tell him you're my girl."
"It was Jake," Emma said.
"Jake? Well I'd beat that homeboy down..." he winked. "Or maybe I'd ask Molly."
Emma got the books into the locker. "You really wanna take me to prom?" she asked, closing the metal door and turning to him. She rested her hands against his letterman jacket and he pulled her against him, pressing their foreheads and noses against each other. He grinned down into her eyes. "Really truly, Mr. Littrell?"
"Really truly, Miss Harris," he responded. He pecked her mouth softly with his own. "Besides, a little bird told me that you and I are one of the couples nominated prom king and queen."
"You're kidding?" Emma laughed.
"I'm not at all." Brian rubbed her back softly.
Emma shook her head, "You're a liar, Brian Littrell."
Brian smirked, "You really wanna take that chance that I'm lying and blow me off and show up at prom with Jake and end up not getting crowned queen?"
Emma rolled her eyes. "I'll go with you to prom, but I'm not being crowned anything." She kissed his chin.
Brian laughed, "I can just picture you up there with the tiara and the flowers and the big frilly pink dress and --" he paused. "You are going to wear pink, right?"
"I always wear yellow, you know that."
"I thought maybe since it's senior prom you'd go all traditional like."
Emma shook her head, "Have I ever done anything traditionally?"
Brian smiled, "Nawh, not you. You're a rebel."
The bell rang overhead.
"And speaking of rebel, I gotta get me to class or Wilson's gonna skin me alive." He leaned down, with his piercing blue eyes and dropped a kiss on her cheek, his hair hanging over his forehead. His mouth was hot and she could smell peppermint from the gum he was chewing when he opened it against her skin. "I love you," he said in a low, boyish tone.
"Not as much as I love you," Emma sing-songed back at him.
Brian held her out at arms length and studied her for a moment as the hallways began to empty of other students. His eyes faded from amusement to absolute seriousness. "I want to marry you," he confessed. The moment the words were out of his mouth, his ears turned pink.
"You do not," Emma laughed.
"No I do," Brian replied, the seriousness fueling a tone of certainty. He squeezed her shoulders with his hands, "More than anything else in this world, I want to marry you and have lots and lots of babies with you. And have a farm and go to the baptist church every Sunday and thank Jesus for putting you in my life."
"You've gone crazy," Emma answered.
Brian shook his head, "No this is the sanest I've ever been. I can almost picture all them chickens and cows we'd have..."
Emma laughed again, "Okay, enough funny boy. I'm going to class. Go to class before Wilson sticks you in detention." She kissed his cheek, then hugged her book to her chest and started walking away, toward her class. She'd gotten only about ten feet when she felt his hand on her shoulder, stopping her. She turned around, their eyes meeting.
"Em," Brian said deeply, thickly, staring right into her. "I know we're only in high school... I know we're just kids and that they all say we dunno what we really want yet... but..." he shook his head and took a deep breath, "But you and me, we're different. We're different then every other person in this school, you know? You and me, what we got it's special. It's forever, you know?"
Emma could feel her heart slamming in her chest. "Brian..."
"Em, I love you," Brian said in a husky voice. He kissed her swiftly as the second bell - the one indicating they were officially tardy for class - rang shrilly overhead. Emma melted into Brian's bracing arm as his mouth pressed against hers. After a long moment, he pulled back, "Emma, marry me."
"Now?" she asked, her voice rising in a panic. "Brian," She laughed, "We're not even graduated yet. People will think we're in trouble."
Brian's eyes sparkled. "I don't care," he answered. He kissed her once again quickly. "I wanna marry you. I wanna love you forever. I will never love another person as much as I love you."
Emma's eyes filled with tears.
"I'll get a job," he suggested, "We can do it, we can get an apartment..."
She laughed, "You're serious."
Brian's eyes smoldered into hers. "Completely," he replied.
It was the night before prom, they were in Brian's truck at a boat landing a town over where Brian knew no cops would look for them. They'd thrown blankets and pillows into the truck bed and were laying amongst them, staring up into the night sky. Brian's arm was around her, and she was clutching his chest. His heart was pounding, but so was hers.
"Did you pack?" Brian asked quietly.
"Yes," Emma whispered.
Brian rubbed her back.
"I can't wait to be Mrs. Brian Littrell," Emma said quietly.
"I can't wait to be Mr. Brian Littrell," he laughed.
"You already are Mr. Brian Littrell," Emma giggled.
"Yeah, but I'll be a real mister," Brian said with a smirk.
Emma shook her head, "You're crazy."
"I think we both are," Brian answered with a laugh.
And it's true. The plan was crazy. Emma, who had insisted on getting a white prom dress despite her mother's insistance that it wasn't traditional, would be picked up for the Tate's Creek Senior Prom the next night - April 17 - but the prom was not where Brian would take her. Instead, they were going to drive to Tennessee - specifically to Nashville. They'd sent applications, forging parental consent signatures, and were going to be married at the Nashville State Courthouse. They were going to go to prom and come back three days later a married couple.
Brian kissed her forehead, then rolled so that he was leaning over her, looking down at her. He stared into her eyes. "I love you," he said thickly.
"I love you," Emma replied.
Brian's mouth was warm on hers, their tongues colliding somewhere in the middle, dancing and swirling together. Brian's hands wandered along her skin, caught hold of the hem of her t-shirt and slid underneath, running against the softness of her belly, slowly moving up until his fingertips brushed the lacy detail on her bra. His fingers moved across her as their tongues moved and she rotated her hips, grinding herself against him. His hands slipped under her bra, fingertips touching her bare breasts and he squeezed them firmly, his hard on growing against her. She pulled away from his kiss and gasped out, "Brian, Brian... stop..."
"Why?" he asked.
"We ain't married yet," she gasped. She could barely breathe, barely see. The stars and the overhanging trees were far off blurs. Brian's hands were still under her shirt, his body still pressed against hers, his breath still hot on her cheek. "Please."
"But... tomorrow..." Brian whispered.
Emma shook her head.
He rolled off her, and they lay there on their backs in the truck bed, breathing hard and staring up at the night sky. Brian bit his lip and tried to think of anything except the lust that was running through his veins.
Emma could feel her body screaming, begging for Brian. She looked at him, laying there, gnawing his lip. Her eyes traveled every contour of him, where the light shone down in patches through the leaves overhead. "What's marriage anyways?" she whispered.
Brian's eyes turned to hers. "What?"
"Marriage," she whispered, "It's a document that says we're married right? It's a piece of paper with our names on it, saying that we promise to love each other forever, isn't it?"
Brian nodded.
"Got a pen?"
Brian stared at her, confused for a moment, then realized what she was suggesting and leaped out of the bed of the truck over the side of it like a wild gazelle and she giggled as she heard him tearing through the stuff in the truck. A moment later, he was leaping over the side again, holding a pen and a yellow legal pad. He bit the cap off the pen and spit it into the corner of the truck bed and quickly started writing.
We, Brian Thomas Littell and Emma-Lou Harris, solemnly swear from this day forward to love each other, heart and soul; to take care of each other, body and mind; to be together in the end of every argument and hardship, to hold each other's hands when we're sick and be there for each other when we're crying...
He looked up at her, "Anything else?"
Emma had tears in her eyes. "It's perfect."
Brian scrawled his signature across the bottom of the page. "I love you Emma," he said, "I'll love you for all of my life, every single day, always."
She took the pen from him and wrote out her own dainty signature. "I love you Brian," she answered.
They lay there on their stomachs, staring down at the page, grinning like silly children. Then Brian turned to her. "I love you, Mrs. Brian Thomas Littrell."
Emma leaned over and kissed him deeply, pulling his face into hers, her hair wrapping around his hair and she pushed the legal pad away. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he rolled to be leaning over her once more, and Emma whispered, "Make love to me."
And he did.
