by J. Sterling
“Okay. See you tomorrow.”
“’Night,” I said with a loud yawn.
“Dear God. You’d better be able to stay up past six on Saturday.”
“I will,” I promised.
“Do I need to pack energy drinks?”
“Couldn’t hurt,” I said with a shrug, even though she couldn’t see me.
“All right, old lady. Go to bed.”
I set aside my phone, thinking about the day Kristy learned about my crush on Dalton . . .
• • •
“So, who’s the guy?” Kristy had asked, taking a large bite out of her sandwich that day at lunch during our freshman year in high school.
“What guy?” I’d feigned innocence before looking around our school’s quad as if I had no idea what she was referring to.
She smacked me on the arm. “Stop playing dumb, dummy. Why do you keep staring at that guy in the corner with Tommy Baker?”
Kristy proceeded to lift her hand and point right in the direction of Dalton Thomas, and I grabbed for it, yanking it down.
“Why would you do that? Don’t point at him!” I said with a groan. “It’s just a guy from one of my classes.”
I met Dalton the first day of our freshman year. We had English Composition together, and my pulse raced as he moved to sit in the empty desk next to mine. He smiled, extended his hand, and introduced himself in that sexy, self-assured way that I would soon learn was typical of Dalton. We became friends from that moment on, but I never assumed that he saw me as anything more than that.
Kristy narrowed her eyes and tilted her head. “He’s kinda cute. You know, in that nontraditional way.”
I glanced over at Dalton again. His sandy-brown hair hung in his eyes, and he moved his head to fling it away. You couldn’t see his eye color from where we sat on the lawn, but I knew it by heart—green with little flecks of brown. “I don’t even know what that means.” I shook my head before taking a bite of my apple.
“He doesn’t look like a jock and he doesn’t dress preppy, but he’s still cute in that So-Cal boy-next-door kinda way. Is he nice?”
I felt my face get a dopey look when I thought of him, and my body sank deeper into the grass. “He’s so nice. And he’s smart. And funny. And charming. My God, he’s so charming. I didn’t even know guys our age could be charming.”
“Okay, okay,” Kristy said, cutting me off. “You like him. I get it.”
“It’s just a crush. I’m sure it’ll go away eventually.”
I assumed at that point that it would do exactly that. Go away, subside with time, or something that involved thoughts of Dalton’s lips on mine leaving my mind. But they never did. My crush on Dalton Thomas only seemed to grow with each year of high school until it exploded one night during our senior year. But that was still a long three years away. Before the clouds came and settled over my otherwise rainbow-filled life.
“I think he’s looking over here,” Kristy said before taking another bite of her sandwich.
I’d glanced across the lawn and thought I saw Dalton smirk at me, but couldn’t be sure. My heart had fluttered anyway, as it expanded with hope.
Ten Years
Cammie
Arriving at the beachside hotel for the reunion, I lugged my oversized duffel into the lobby and prayed I wouldn’t see anyone from high school just yet. I’d been driving the last two hours with the top down on my convertible, and I was a hot, sweaty, windblown mess. Not the way I wanted to greet anyone from my past, that was for sure. Thankfully the lobby was practically empty as I approached the check-in counter. Five minutes later, key card in hand, I headed up the elevator to the tenth floor.
I slid the card into the door lock and watched as the little light turned green, allowing my entrance. As I opened the door and the room came into view, I let out a little sigh. Natural light flooded the pretty blue-and-white decor, and I immediately wished my own master bedroom in my condo looked like this.
Tossing my duffel bag on top of one of the two beds, I unzipped it and searched for my shower bag. Kristy would most likely arrive within the hour, and if I wanted any alone time in the bathroom at all, I needed to do it now, before she got here. Kristy was notorious for trapping me into serious conversations where she attempted to psychoanalyze me (no doubt this time it would be about Dalton) while I was in the shower. I think she did it because it was the only time I couldn’t escape or run away.
During high school, Dalton had been the very definition of charismatic, the kind of guy who captivated a room whenever he walked into it. And it wasn’t because he was the best-looking guy at school. That award definitely went to David Lampson, hands down. And from what I could tell from David’s Facebook profile, he was even better looking in his late twenties than he was as a teenager. Go, David.
Dalton, however, had something about him that entranced both genders, and it had absolutely nothing to do with looks. Guys thought he was smart and cool, and girls were captivated by his charm. Myself included.
Obviously.
He wasn’t mean-spirited or cruel, and that was part of what made it so hard for me to hate him after everything we went through together. After everything I willingly gave him.
I’d tried to put my senior year with Dalton behind me, but a girl couldn’t go through something like that and come out unscathed. Every experience I’d ever had with a guy had changed me in some way. Whether it was a single idea, or an altered view, I was never quite the same girl after as I had been before. I firmly believed that wasn’t a bad thing, either. The only way we could truly know what we wanted in a partner was to figure out the things we didn’t want. Process of elimination, I supposed, but you risked losing pieces of your heart along the way.
No one ever said love was easy. And if they did, they lied.
“I’m here, hooch!” Kristy’s voice filled the steamy air just as I stepped into the shower.
“I’m in the shower, and I swear to God, Kristy, don’t come in here. Let me shower in peace,” I pleaded from behind the shower curtain.
I felt the whoosh of cold air before I heard the door opening. “When have I ever let you shower in peace? I live to torture you.”
I groaned as I soaped myself up. “Why? You’re so weird. Why can I never shower alone when you’re around?”
“So, let’s talk about Dalton Thomas.”
See?
“What about him?” My insides tightened, and my throat suddenly felt like I’d swallowed a cup of ground glass.
“How are you feeling now that the big day is finally here? Are you freaking out? I’m freaking out for you.”
“We don’t even know if he’s coming, Kris.”
“Oh, please. He was our class president, he’s definitely coming,” she said matter-of-factly.
I peered around the shower curtain to find her perched on the bathroom counter. “But what if he doesn’t? Seriously, what if he doesn’t even show up? How the hell will I know if I still feel anything for him or not if I don’t see him?”
She groaned. “I wish I had something to throw at you. Like ice.” She hopped off the bathroom counter. “I’ll be right back.”
“What? Don’t go get ice!”
Convincing myself she couldn’t be serious, I heard the sounds of things slamming and crashing around before the hotel door slammed closed. I tried to rush through the rest of my shower before she came back and hurled ice at me. Who does that?
“I’m back!” Her voice filled the bathroom far too quickly, and I peered around the curtain again in mock fear. “What are you doing?” she asked innocently. “Why do you look so scared?”
“I’m afraid you’re going to force me to mimic the ice bucket challenge and ruin my shower,” I admitted.
“I needed ice for my drink. See?” She swirled the red concoction around in a small glass.
I breathed out a quick sigh of relief before ducking back into the shower to rinse the conditioner from my tangled hair.
“S
o, are we going to talk about him?” she asked.
Trying for clueless, I said, “I don’t really know what you want to talk about exactly.”
“Well, for starters, what the hell are you going to do if he shows up with a date tonight?”
Die.
“Or worse,” she went on. “What if he shows up married?”
Die twice.
I silently wondered what was worth than death, because that was what I would do if Dalton Thomas showed up married tonight. But him being married was an absolute possibility, I reasoned, and I needed to mentally be prepared for it. Only I had no idea how to wrap my heart, or mind, around the prospect.
“Cammie? Did I give you a stroke in there?”
I swallowed the boulder stuck in my throat and tried to speak. “No, but you aren’t helping. I’m freaking out enough already without you adding to it, Kris. You’re supposed to talk me off the ledge, not walk me to it.”
The fact was that Dalton Thomas had always stayed firmly rooted in the back of my mind. Sometimes people did and said things that stayed with you your whole life. Their actions and words became living, breathing things that instilled themselves inside your heart and became one with it. Dalton had become so ingrained, so easily a part of me, that not even surgery could remove him.
She laughed, and I heard the ice in her drink clink around. “I’m just trying to prepare you. He could be married. He could have kids.”
Does my best friend secretly hate me? I attempted to swallow past the lump in my throat, then said, “I guess I’ll just have to deal with it and finally get past him once and for all. Ugh, I hate that the idea of him still gets to me after all this time. It’s so stupid!”
“Well, don’t beat yourself up. It’s not like you’ve spent the last ten years pining for him or anything,” she said pointedly, the sarcasm in her voice coming through loud and clear.
“I haven’t pined for him for ten years!” I exclaimed. “You make it sound like I was some pathetic loser who never got past her high school crush.”
“If the shoe fits,” she shot back.
I would go months without ever thinking about Dalton, and then out of nowhere, his memory would hit me like a freight train and I would find myself wondering where he was and what he was doing. Those were the nights I searched online, trying to find any mention of him. It made no sense for me to miss him after all this time, but I still seemed to. And secretly, a small part of me always hoped that he missed me too. I hated the idea of being alone in my feelings; it made me feel stupid and weak. If I was going to think about a boy I hadn’t seen since high school, then I wanted him to be thinking about me too. Even though I hated to admit it, sometimes I was such a girl.
Shutting off the water, I reached for two towels, wrapping my hair in one and securing the other one around my body before pulling back the curtain all the way and stepping out.
“Kristy, I’ve dated plenty of other guys. I moved on from him just fine, and you know it. Don’t act like I didn’t. It’s just that now that we’re back here, for this, I can’t help but think about him. I associate Dalton with high school the same way I associate you with it.”
“But you don’t care if I’m single or not.” When I stood up straight and stared at her reflection in the mirror, she smirked and said, “Admit it.”
I stayed silent, answering her question only in my mind.
“I said admit it!” she yelled as she reached into the ice bucket, her threat obvious.
I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I admit it. I want him to be single.”
“And have you asked yourself why?”
Unwrapping the towel from my hair, I reached for my comb and started working through the tangles. “I guess I’m not ready for him to be off the market?” I answered her question with a question as I fought back the emotions growing inside me. “When I think about Dalton, I think about the boy I knew senior year. I still see him as that guy. And in my mind, that guy isn’t married. I guess in my mind that guy still wants to make out with me in the darkroom. I don’t know!” Trying to sort out everything I felt for him was beyond complicated.
“I do.” She sipped her drink before waggling her eyebrows at me, and my shoulders tensed.
“You do?”
“It’s the same reason why I can’t fully get over Bobby,” she said with a sad smile.
Kristy and Bobby dated for over a year during college, and while she admitted that their relationship wasn’t perfect, she loved him with her whole heart. One day he came over to her apartment and broke up with her. No reason, no explanation, nothing. He just said it was over and he never looked back.
“And why’s that?” I asked, wondering what my not-real-or-ever-defined-relationship with Dalton possibly had in common with Kristy’s real-life relationship with Bobby.
“No closure.”
The words left her mouth and filled the air between us before burrowing into my flesh. I’d never once thought about it that way, so simply. Maybe my inability to get past Dalton had to do with the fact that we had no closure, which was thanks mostly to me.
Nodding slowly, I admitted, “You might be right.”
“Listen, you’ve been hung up on the guy since we were freshmen. And then after your dad—” She stopped for a second, and I held my breath as I waited for what she might say next. “Well, he’s the only one you let in after that happened. I mean, aside from me, of course.”
She half smiled and I did the same. “The two of you hooked up our entire senior year. And then all that shit happened with prom and it never got sorted out. You never let him explain his side, and you never asked him to either. You just avoided him. I don’t think you ever talked to him again after that. So see? No closure. At all.” She hopped back up on top of the bathroom counter and shrugged her shoulders, clearly proud of her analysis.
“So you’re telling me that you don’t have closure with Bobby?” I asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“How could I have any closure with that prick? He broke up with me for no reason! At least give me something I can process, work through, and then get over. Instead, I’m stuck wondering what the hell went wrong, or what I did, but I’m not any closer to an answer. So it just festers. Lingers.”
She blew out an exaggerated breath before continuing. “It just exists here”—she pointed at her heart—“and here”—she pointed at her head—“and I hate it. And it’s not even like I want him back, that’s not the issue. I just want to move past it, but it’s hard to put something behind you when you don’t have all the pieces of the damn puzzle. And you know how much I hate puzzles.”
“Makes sense.” I found myself nodding.
Kristy chuckled. “You think so? ’Cause half the time I think I’m crazy.”
“Oh no, you’re definitely crazy. But really, it’s pretty logical if you think about it. I guess it makes sense for me and Dalton too.”
I had to agree, even if part of me didn’t want to believe it entirely. Somewhere deep down I refused to accept that I’d been haunted by one person for this long simply because we didn’t have closure. But what if Kristy was right and it was as easy as that? What if all I’d needed this entire time was to see him so I could close the book on our relationship once and for all?
Let’s Do This
Cammie
“You finally ready?” Kristy asked from the other room.
“I think so. Come in here and make sure my makeup and hair look okay,” I yelled over the music I had playing in the bathroom. I smoothed the wrinkles from my red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places—if I did say so myself—and slipped into my heels.
Kristy walked in, took one look at me, and whistled. “You look so hot, Cammie.”
I glanced back at the mirror with a smile, noting the soft waves in my brown hair and the smoky eye makeup around my hazel eyes. “Are you sure? It’s not too much?”
“No. Dalton’s going to shit himself when he sees
you.”
“Not if he’s not here, he won’t.”
“He’s going to be here. Why are you so annoyingly stubborn!” she shouted at me before taking a swig of her third cocktail of the night. “And what about me? How do I look?”
I looked her up and down, then tried to whistle, but ended up making a blowing/spitting sound instead. The leopard print dress she wore clung to her perfectly. Kristy always knew how to dress; nothing was ever too tight or too over-the-top. “You look as gorgeous as always.” And she did.
Kristy and I were often mistaken for sisters, but it wasn’t because we truly looked alike. We just had the basics in common—we were both five-foot-seven, both had long dark hair and light brown eyes. Calling us sisters was like calling every set of blond girls you saw twins.
“Let’s not keep the masses waiting any longer. You ready to do this?” she asked, and I reached for her drink before downing it. “Hey!” she yelled at me in mock anger.
“I needed that. Thanks.” I smiled before reapplying my red lipstick and putting the tube in my clutch. Sucking in a deep breath, I moved toward the door. “Here goes nothing.”
“Here goes everything.” She chuckled from behind me.
We made our way downstairs and headed toward the check-in table, where we were greeted by classmates who stood to hug us both before handing us our nametags and pointing us in the direction of the evening’s photographer.
Glancing down at my tag, I realized that it not only said my name, but it had a printed copy of my senior picture next to it. My seventeen-year-old face fake-smiled back at me, and I hurt for the girl I was during that time.
The day my senior pictures had been taken was not a good one. I had been crying all morning, but it was my last chance at being in the yearbook at all. It was either a puffy-eyed, red-faced photo, or none at all. And since it was my senior year, I figured I’d eventually regret it if my picture was one of the stock silhouettes. Looking at my sad face now, I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right choice.
“Did they really have to include our pictures? Ugh, I have bangs. Bangs!” Kristy rolled her eyes before pinning the tag to the bottom of her dress.
