We Were Once

by Scott, S. L.

Huffing, she rejoins me, adjusting her backpack and picking up where she left off. “So, I said, hey, we just ordered the same coffee. Caramel macchiato with coconut milk and an extra shot of espresso. Like, how is that even possible?” Bumping into me, she giggles. “Romantic. Like destiny.”

  “Soul mates, for sure.” I bump right back and laugh. I don’t dare mention my love life, or she’ll fixate on it, and I’m not ready for that. I do, however, find her line of thinking utterly fascinating.

  “Do you believe in fate?” she asks.

  “Fate has always had such a negative connotation to me. Destiny sounds more hopeful.”

  She presses the button at the crosswalk, and as we stand there, she says, “There’s an argument for both, but let’s go with hope. What do you think?”

  “Are you asking me if I believe that you’ll start dating this guy, fall madly in love in a whirlwind romance, jet around the world after graduation fulfilling your tremendously cool dreams, and then one day look at each other and decide to settle down, have two point five kids, a three-car garage, and a little piece of paradise in Connecticut?”

  “Yes.”

  I shrug. “Maybe. Do you need a three-car garage?”

  That makes her laugh. “I was thinking four but thought I’d sound pretentious if I voiced it.”

  The pedestrian sign comes on, and we cross the street to our block. Wrapping my arm around her, I say, “Never.”

  This has me thinking about my parents’ marriage. They thought they’d be married forever when they tied the knot. Little doubts start to populate. How will it be different for me? Are we being naïve by thinking our love is different? No.

  I’ve studied every part of the anatomy. The two most powerful organs are the brain and the heart. No matter which leads you, the other follows. So even though our hearts are leading this charge, I know we’re thinking rationally.

  Anyway, a mistake would never feel this good.

  I open the door to my apartment and stop—my feet, my heart, my breathing. And stare, trying to process how there’s a sexy, shirtless guy standing on my windowsill. “Hello there.” I set my bag at the foot of the couch. Joshua doesn’t react, but then I see the earbuds tucked in his ears.

  He’s quite the sight, and I don’t want to miss a second of this. Not making a noise, I curl up on the couch and watch with rapt interest as he hangs a towel over my window. His backside is a thing of beauty. The muscle definition would make a Greek god jealous.

  The best part? He’s mine.

  “I’m pretty sure you weren’t looking for my eyes, but just in case,” he says, pointing at the most heart-stopping beautiful brown eyes. “They’re up here.”

  My gaze selfishly drifts lower again and this time continues to that firm ass. “I’m good.” I giggle. “You can continue whatever you were doing.”

  “All done. When’d you get home?”

  Home.

  I grin.

  “Not long enough to appreciate you properly. You stole a towel for privacy?”

  “I did,” he replies proudly. Tugging lightly, he appears impressed with his handiwork. “Should hold until you get blinds. I can also hang those for you. I used a sheet in the bedroom.”

  “You don’t seem apologetic at all, so you’re lucky you’re hot or I might be mad. So tell me more about this being a handyman business. It’s a whole new side of you.”

  “I’m handy all right.” He comes to the couch and sits next to me. We come together and kiss. “Good to see you.”

  “Good to be seen by you, especially since no one else can now.” I signal toward the window. The right side of my mouth tips up. “Feel better?”

  “Yes, regarding the windows. No, because I need to go to work.” Joshua’s eyes are kind as he looks into mine. “Wish I could stay.”

  “Me, too.”

  He steals another kiss and then pulls his shirt over his head. I kick back with my hands behind my head. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining. Just curious why you were shirtless hanging the towel?”

  A small shrug hits under the smile on his face. “Figured you’d be home soon.”

  I chunk a pillow at him. “Tease.”

  “If you got it, flaunt—” I pop him with another pillow and then kiss his arm as I go to Frankie. “The violence around here is intense,” he adds, chuckling.

  “I think you can handle a few pillows.”

  He hooks the corner of the towel on a nail, a nice detail to the makeshift covering. I lean against him, not wanting him to go. “Clever.” Picking up Frankie, I carry her to the sink for a good soak. “What does your bonsai look like?”

  “Dwayne Evans? He has a strong trunk and straight, broad branches.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.” I turn on the water. Look at me nurturing my plant. My mom would be so proud. Like how Joshua is looking at me now. “But let’s get back to the Dwayne Evans part.” I raise an eyebrow, wholly entertained by this name.

  “He’s named after The Rock.”

  “That makes a little more sense.” I turn off the faucet and return to the couch. “Yet not entirely. I’m going to need more information.”

  The ridiculousness of our conversation isn’t lost on him, but something darkens his expression. “When I was twelve, I used to stay up all night on the weekends watching his movies. He seemed like a real-life hero to me. If we want to delve deep, I wished he was my dad but not because of fame or money. He was funny and badass, equally. Just seemed like a good dad to have if I got to choose one. My tree reminded me of him—tall and bulky, upstanding, so I named him Dwayne but kept my last name.”

  There’s a lump in my throat, and I didn’t realize I was gripping my hands together so tightly. When I release, my fingers are stiff. I get up and hug him. Not sure if he needs it or even wants it, but his arms come around me, and we stand there in the quiet. I’m not sure what to say, so I fall back on what made us fall for each other in the first place. “So, we’re going with the double-barrel name?”

  He starts chuckling. “Yes. Dwayne Evans is a formal kind of bonsai.” I love his laughter. Releasing me, he says, “I need to get going.”

  “As much as you’re gone from your place, maybe you should consider bringing Dwayne Evans over here. He can spend time with Frankie.”

  When I open the door, he leaves his backpack on the floor as he exits. “That’s a bit forward. I mean, I can ask him.” Another shrug comes with a heaping helping of a wry grin. He taps the tip of my nose. “But no guarantees. He’s quite the ladies’ man.”

  I tap his nose right back. “He’s not a man at all, actually.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I’m kissed—not reflective of any of the joking we’ve been doing—his lips relishing mine and me returning the favor. The struggle is heard in a heavy sigh when he forces himself to walk away. I feel that sadness corroding my stomach as well. I ask, “Hey, how’d you get in anyway?”

  “I have my ways, Fox.” Just before his head is out of sight, his eyes meet mine, and he adds, “I’ll add another later.”

  “Ah.” He picked my lock. His skills extend way beyond a college classroom. “Keep me posted on Dwayne Evans.”

  His laughter echoes through the stairwell. “I will. See you later.”

  Returning inside, I flop back on the couch, needing to reevaluate the path I’m choosing versus the course created by others and the life everyone expects of me.

  I’ve had the same goals since I was fifteen, and then I met Joshua Evans. Now I’m coloring outside the lines for the first time. Staying up late and experiencing what it’s like to share my nights.

  Chloe Evans does have a nice ring to it.

  Heat sweeps across my cheeks because yes, I just did that, and I like the sound of it. Since I’m already chartering a new course, I can play with the title of Mr. and Mrs. in my head. Of course, for me, Dr. Evans has a much better ring to it.

  My heart pulses with a joy I’ve never felt before. I’m happi
er than I’ve ever been, and it’s because of the man who just hung a towel over my window to protect me. A charming devil of a catch and I caught him. I think I’m going to love walking on the wild side if I’m walking it with him.

  16

  Joshua

  “Josh?” my mom calls from the front of the diner.

  The dinner rush hasn’t kicked in, so I push through the kitchen door to find her. She’s in the main area, but I see why she called me. “Service around here sucks.” Bryant smacks his hands on the counter where he and Todd take up space

  “Fuckers. Don’t say that. It makes my mom look bad.”

  She returns, giving them that don’t-test-me-glare that told me I was in trouble when I was younger. Still works on me. I chuckle, knowing she’s giving them shit, though. She can’t hold that look for long, always liking my friends. She asks, “What are you troublemakers up to today?”

  Todd replies, “Checking on our boy. Other than the time he and his lady graced us with their presence at Lucky’s, he’s been MIA for most of September, including his birthday.”

  “We’re also hungry,” Bryant adds, never one to turn down a free meal. “But what Todd said, too. First birthday we haven’t drank down by the lake in years.”

  I can’t tell them why I couldn’t go but remembering how dirty we got in that shower of hers leaves no room for anything less than a guilty grin.

  My mom asks, “You took Chloe to Lucky’s? Not the classiest place, Josh.”

  “Cheap drinks and pool tables. We don’t need much. Anyway, she had a good time.” I try to hide my grin as I think about how that night ended—sex and snacks. Good times.

  “I don’t even want to know why you have that smirk on your face.” I get popped with a towel, causing me to laugh. Turning back to the guys, she asks, “Burgers?”

  “All the way, Ms. Russo.” Todd rests his arms on the counter.

  “I’ll cover them, Mom.” Spinning the spatula in my hand, I cock a brow. “I think I know how you like your burgers. I’ve made enough over the years to pay for Yale. If I’d been paid, that is.”

  We head back to the kitchen because I know my mom would rather us take our foul mouths out of hearing range from paying customers. I slap patties on the grill as they come around from washing their hands. Across from me, they lean against the sink. Todd starts, “Let’s talk about Chloe Fox.”

  “How about we don’t?” I reply, knowing full well that’s not going to satisfy him.

  “Nice try,” Bryant slaps back.

  This conversation is long overdue, and I can’t say I blame them for being curious since I’ve been spending so much time alone with her. “My time with Chloe has been good. Really good.”

  “Really good, huh?” Bryant laughs, nudging Todd. “I think our boy’s done for.”

  Cooking allows me to avoid their judging stares. I dunk the fries in the fryer. Todd finally cuts to the chase, and asks, “You’ve been together a while now. Is it more than good?”

  “Always the detective.” I glance up. “You’ve hung around her enough to see why I like her.”

  “You mean at Lucky’s like a month ago, and then when you stopped by last week to collect that forty bucks I owed you. If that’s the baseline, then sure, she seems cool the two times we’ve hung out. Do you love her?”

  Is it wrong to admit it out loud to them before I say it to her? Probably. “I, uh . . .” Returning to the grill, I poke around making a lot of noise for nothing. “We’re getting there.”

  Laughing, Bryant cups his ear and leans over. “Say it louder for the people in the back.”

  Todd shoves him. “He doesn’t have to. The master of avoidance can’t avoid admitting the truth. He loves her. Shit, that’s a news flash I didn’t see coming.”

  “Whatever, man. Can we drop this?”

  “We’re giving you a hard time,” Todd says, grabbing a stool and sitting down. “But so you know, if you like her, love her, whatever. We’re good.”

  Bryant punches my arm. “She’s cool, but man, I never thought I’d see the day that you were off the market. Chloe Fox lives up to her name, by the way.”

  Shaking my head, I know they’re not going to let this lie. “Go ahead and get it out of your systems.”

  I chuckle until Bryant adds, “Did you know that she’s Newport’s medical phenom in the making after her dad. It’s next level, brah.”

  “I know that’s what he wants,” I reply defensively, not liking they’ve been searching for dirt on her. “You know how? I asked her. How do you know?” Tossing cheese on the patties, I work on plating the food. The meal may be on the house, but I still care about the presentation.

  He replies, “I was bored the other night. Just in case she didn’t tell you this, Daddy Fox is not just filthy rich. He’s fucking wealthy.”

  “Her coming from money doesn’t scare me.” Chuckling, I ask, “And the distinguishing factor between those two are?”

  Todd says, “Old money.”

  “So?” I shrug. “That’s half of New Haven.”

  “But we’re on the other half,” Bryant adds. “Except this guy.”

  He thumbs toward Todd, who says, “But I got here as fast as they could cut me off.”

  “You know what I got?” I start, “I got the talk from my mom already, so you don’t need to worry about me.”

  Todd says, “Don’t forget she’ll be leaving after graduation, so don’t go running off and getting married anytime soon.”

  After putting fries on their plate, I retrieve the burgers and then add the toppings. Some things I want to keep between me and Chloe for now, like discovering stuff that I learn from her and not the internet. “Thanks for the advice,” I reply dryly.

  Bryant always has to get in the last word. “For the record, we were disappointed to find so little on her. She is who she says she is. Graduated from high school early and now she’s a Yale student. Boring stuff.”

  “She’s anything but boring to me.” Handing them the plates, I stop. His words playing back. “What do you mean graduated early?”

  “Yeah,” Bryant says, not picking up on my concern. “You’re lucky you didn’t get busted at Lucky’s.” Grabbing the plate with one hand, he rubs his stomach with the other. “I’m starved.”

  “Yeah, lucky.”

  We return to the front and they sit at the counter as I get their drinks, Chloe’s age still on my mind. I thought for sure she said she was twenty-one. I was distracted by everything on our first date at the diner. With my mom trying to dote on us to her, Barb, and T doing golf claps where Chloe couldn’t see. Thank God. That would have been more embarrassing than it already was. I still don’t think I heard Chloe wrong. While the guys eat, I grab the dish tub and start clearing the vacated tables, feeling bothered. I have a pretty good memory . . .

  “How about a lightning round of get-to-know-you questions?”

  “I’m game. Can I go first? Age?”

  “Twenty-two next month. Age?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “We’re the same age—”

  Right. I even noted how we were the same age. I’m certain she said twenty-one, but I’ll ask her about it anyway.

  After dumping the dishes in the back, I return to the counter. My mom pats my shoulder. “Thank you, son.” She reconciles their bill, and asks Todd, “You’re delivering for me tonight, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll be back at six.”

  Bryant says, “I’m on in the morning. I can open if you want to sleep in, Ms. Russo.”

  I hit him with a dirty glare. “Stop flirting with my mom, dude!”

  He chuckles, but I don’t. My mom on the other hand, giggles. Giggles! She says, “I appreciate the offer, but Barb is opening for me the next two mornings.” Setting napkins on the counter, she adds, “Just be on time. I need you tomorrow for the brunch crowd.”

  “Will do.” He flips me off when she goes to check on customers, and mouths, "Your mom is hot.”

&n
bsp; I punch him. “Fucker.”

  They’re still laughing when I get back to work in the kitchen, needing to get going on the prep for dinner. I start the hot water just as my phone buzzes in my pocket and tug it out. Doesn’t matter what I felt two seconds prior, I’m smiling the moment I see her face on the screen under the name—Soulmate . . . If the shoe fits, and it’s a perfect fit for Chloe.

  Chloe’s face is contorted, but she can’t hide her beauty behind silly faces. The text reads: How do I look?

  I type: Frustratingly gorgeous.

  She replies: It frustrates you that you find me gorgeous?

  Me: It frustrates me that I can’t be with my gorgeous girlfriend.

  Chloe: Send me a photo of what you’re doing right now. I want to see my sexy boyfriend.

  I hold the phone above me so she gets a good visual of how sexy I can be and take the pic.

  Chloe: A man doing dishes—be still my beating heart. I have some things you can wash.

  Me: Some things . . . like you?

  Chloe: What time do you get off?

  Me: That’s up to you.

  Chloe: Naughty. Naughty. *ponders the possibilities*

  Me: Don’t start without me, baby. I’m leaving here at eleven.

  Another pic of her lying on the bed—her hair a mess and swept over the pillow—a strap clinging to her shoulder and the other tipped over. As sexy as she is, my chest tightens just looking at her. I’m at a loss of words that fit how stunning she is.

  Me: I . . .

  I delete and lick my lips although it’s my throat that’s gone dry staring at her. Me: Thank you.

  Chloe: For what?

  Swallowing down the lump in my throat, my fingers hover over the screen. I want to tell her so many things, but my heart clenches that I might not get more than this year with her. I hate the seed of doubt the guys planted. I want a future after graduation. A life together. I want to tell her. Me: For the photos. They’ll be all I think about during my shift. I chicken out.

  Chloe: My pleasure.

  My phone rings. Turning my back to the door for privacy, I whisper, “Hi.”

  She says, “The pleasure’s been mine. I’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been with you.”