If Ever

by Angie Stanton

  “Abbi!” An excited voice calls out.

  I turn to find a guy with scruffy sandy-colored hair and a brilliant smile coming straight for me. I look around to see if he is talking to someone else, but there’s only me.

  Should I be glad or scared to discover that someone else in 1961 seems excited to see me? But then he scoops me into a hug, swings me around, and plants a long, passionate kiss on my lips.

  Hello!

  The stranger grins, revealing an adorable dimple. “Abbi! I never thought it would happen. I mean I hoped so, I prayed for it, and you were right. Here you are, exactly when you said you’d be.” He flicks his head so a lock of hair sweeps to the side, and he can’t contain his infectious smile.

  I’m relieved that this handsome guy seems to know me, but I’m stunned at his familiarity. Even so, I find myself smiling into deep blue eyes. His strong arms are wrapped comfortably around me as if that’s where they belong. My hands rest against his chest, where I feel his heart racing beneath his button-down shirt.

  “You look exactly the same.” He gazes at me as if I’m the most precious person on the planet.

  I don’t know how to respond, but as crazy as it sounds, I kind of like the feel of him. He’s lean and smells good, like the outdoors. After a few awkward seconds, to which he seems totally oblivious, I find my voice. “I’m sorry, but how exactly do we know each other?”

  He immediately releases me. “Oh, rats! Abbi, forgive me. I had it all planned out, but then got swept up in the moment and forgot that you haven’t met me yet.”

  My heart nearly ricochets out of my chest.

  “My apologies. I’m handling this all wrong.” He holds up his trembling hand. “Look. I’m giddy as a race horse.”

  For the first time I notice his nervous smile. “It’s okay,” I reassure him, boldly taking his long, tan fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze. His smile relaxes, but his eyes stay glued to mine. “But, please, tell me how we know each other. When exactly did we meet?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

  He hesitates, looking like he’s thinking back on fond memories. “All I can say is that for me it was awhile ago, but for you—well—it’s still to come.”

  He’s confusing me, but he seems to be confirming that I will continue to travel back in time. I release my breath. “You know about … my traveling?”

  “I know all about it,” he says with a serious tone. “You told me many things about the future.” He holds my gaze as if willing me to remember things that haven’t yet happened for me, but I have nothing to offer him. He continues, “I’m not sure how I would have managed without you.”

  He touches my cheek, completely comfortable with me, suggesting we really do have a shared past. “I’m sorry, but—you know me from your past, and we’re good friends?”

  “Very good.” A devilish sparkle lights his eyes, and I wonder just how good he’s talking about.

  “You know everything about me, and yet I don’t even know your name?” I hate this feeling. It’s like I’ve woken up with amnesia.

  His eyes dim as if he’s wounded that I don’t remember him, but then he says in the sweetest low voice, “My name is Will.”

  “Hello, Will.” I let the sound of his name settle in. I have a friend in the past named Will, and he seems like a nice guy. A weight eases off my shoulders, and I breathe a little easier.

  “I’m Abbi. You already know that, but I feel better officially introducing myself.” I hold out my hand to shake his.

  He glances at my hand and then back to me and says with a mischievous grin, “Oh, we’re way past shaking.”

  I raise an eyebrow. Will dips his head sheepishly. “Abbi, I’ve missed you very much, and the thing is, we never had a chance to say goodbye.”

  It’s my turn to smile. Do I let this adorable stranger kiss me again? He gazes at me with such devotion that I know we must have a history together. Why not? I think, and my stomach gives a flutter.

  Will pulls the blade of grass from his mouth and leans forward. With our faces a few inches apart, his breath warms my cheek. He tilts his head and ever so gently kisses me. His fingers glide along my jaw as his lips coax mine to respond, and they do.

  By the familiarity of his touch, and how perfectly our lips move together, I know this is far from the first time.

  Will reluctantly pulls away and lets the moment soak in. My eyes blink open as my pulse races.

  “You’re not like the guys from my time.” My voice comes out in a whisper.

  “No. I suppose I’m not.”