by Allison Parr
Now she frowned. “I just worry that you make very strong attachments. While Ryan seems very nice...I don’t know, Rach, I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
I crossed my arms. “You just met him.”
“I shouldn’t have said anything...”
No, I wanted to snap, you shouldn’t have. But I bit that back, since I did value my mother’s opinions. Besides, how could I blame her? I had judged Ryan just as shallowly when I first met him. And she had admitted she liked him; she just worried a jock and a nerd had nothing to bond over. Once she saw how well we fit together, everything would be fine.
That evening, we headed over to my friend Zac’s. I could hear David’s frown on the phone when he called to remind me about Sophie’s little party, but I’d promised Thomas I’d attend this shindig three months ago. Besides, Sophie hadn’t gone so far as to actually label this an anniversary party, so I felt in the clear.
We zoomed along the narrow and bumpy tree-lined streets of Ashbury in Ryan’s little car, Christmas jingles already making their way onto the radio. “So, your friends. Are they all like you?”
I glanced over and realized his arms were tense as he held the wheel. I probably shouldn’t have found that cute, but I did. “I’m not sure they’re like me, but we all grew up together. So everyone feels incredibly familiar. But they’re all really sweet. And super friendly.”
He must have heard the persuading note in my voice, because he glanced at me with raised brows. “Are you worried for me? I’m super friendly too, you know.”
“Look at the road. And yes, I know all about how friendly you are when you first meet people. You’re just super polite and not intimidating at all.”
“It’s like my super power.”
I just looked at him.
“Too many supers?”
“Too many.”
Zac’s door was open, and so we walked through and down the stairs to the furnished basement. The beige paint, the high ceilings, the framed family portraits were all a time-sink back into my childhood. We entered the carpeted basement, a room filled with movie posters, ping-pong and foosball and an old fashioned Coke machine. People I’d known since kindergarten lounged on couches and sat on unmatched chairs, faces lit up as they laughed and chattered. The door on the far right opened into a mini-kitchen, complete with sink and stocked fridge.
I knocked on the door frame. “Hi, guys!”
“Rachael!” my friends chorused, with heartwarming happiness. Madison, the closest of the quartet, threw her arms around me and kissed my cheek. “Hello, love!” Then I spun down the line, hugging meditative Rae and indie Andi and poor balding Kevin. Being with them was as easy as lying alone on my couch. I could have been eight or twelve or eighteen—we’d all done this so many times before.
“Hey, Rach!” Liz and Zac, our idea-filled power couple greeted me. Liz’s hair might be longer and Zac’s clothes better cut, but other than that nothing had changed. Zac lifted me off the floor in a bear hug, and then set me down next to Thomas, who grinned and enveloped me in his arms.
I smiled back at him, and then pulled away, spinning back to the door. During the round of hugs Ryan had stood by the entrance, and he looked like he was ready to be tackled any moment. I grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the room, where he dwarfed everyone else by at least three inches and sheer muscle. Andi spit up Coke into her cup. Silence descended.
I cleared my throat. “Um, this is my boyfriend, Ryan. Carter. Ryan, this is...everyone.”
Everyone looked dumbfounded.
“I could go through everyone’s names.” I spoke a little too quickly, wishing they’d stop gaping like goldfish. “But, uh, there’s so many it might not be that useful.” Everyone just kept staring, and I started to feel a little irritated with my friends. What happened to the warm environment I’d promised Ryan? I gave Zac a pointed look. “This is Zac’s place.”
Zac finally reached out to shake Ryan’s hand. “Hey, man.”
Ryan smiled a little tightly. “Hey.”
Andi, never known for tact, spoke loudly, as though she was double-checking. “Ryan Carter. The football player.”
“Yeah.” He kept the syllable short, and his eyes sought mine.
I leaned into him. “He’s also a very talented crayon cartographer, punster, and he makes mean French toast.” I met Carly and Kate’s eyes and begged them to say something.
Carly jumped on it. “Just so you know, we’re all Patriots fans here. No hard feelings, right?”
Everyone laughed, and the tension broke. Soon, people clustered around Ryan, brutally curious about the life of a pro-athlete. More of my friends than I had realized exhibited an unexpected amount of sports knowledge, and one or two actually had Ryan’s passes and plays down game for game.
Stealth sport fans.
I waited until his smile had changed from the one he used on fans to a genuine grin, and then I slipped away to the bathroom. Before coming back, I detoured into the kitchen to get us glasses of water. I couldn’t keep a huge grin off my face, and warmth bubbled in my belly. They liked him. They liked my boyfriend.
I almost giggled.
Glasses in hand, I headed back for the living room. Thomas blocked the doorway.
He shook his head. “Wow, Ryan Carter. I never would’ve guessed you’d date a football player.”
I grinned up at him. “Me neither. Who would have guessed?” Since we stood leaning in the doorway, I was able to throw a glance over at Ryan, and see him talking animatedly with Zac and Liz and Pierce and Rae.
“He just doesn’t seem like your type. I mean—football? With that many concussions, the guy can’t use his brain that much.”
What the hell? I reined back my angry retort, knowing it wasn’t fair when I’d originally thought the same thing. Still, my words were sharp and terse. “Hey. Injuries aren’t funny. And he’s very smart.”
“Okay.” Then he smirked. “But doesn’t he make you think of the other quarterback we knew? Chris Howell?”
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Ryan isn’t anything like Chris Howell. Chris slept through half his classes and ended up at business school because he’s obviously going to work at his mom’s company. Ryan’s a pro athlete.”
“So he’s like Chris on steroids.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stop it.”
He raised his hands. “Okay. I’ll have to take your word on it.”
“Yeah, you will.” I ducked past him shaking my head. Seriously. Of all the people to be irritated by Ryan’s presence, I wouldn’t have expected Thomas to be one of them. He’d had plenty of friends who played sports, and he was generally open-minded.
“Who was that?” Ryan said when I reached his side again.
“What? Oh, Thomas. Good friend.”
Ryan looked around the room “They all seem to be good friends.”
I laughed. “Funny, huh? We were a weirdly close group.”
“Seems dumb to have a reunion when you’re still all in touch.”
“Hit the nail on the head. But I think that’s why we’re all going. Since we have each other as a buffer, but we’ll still get to watch the other groups without feeling uncomfortable.”
“Safety in numbers?”
I laughed, curling into him, happy to have his solid warmth at my side, and to be here, with some of the people I loved the best in the world. Happy they all got along. “Precisely.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The former class officers had rented out the entertainment hall of Ashbury Inn, which had also served time hosting the junior prom, the annual Food & Wine weekend, and half a dozen bar and bat mitzvahs. Now, wandering through the ivy-twined trellises twinkling with white Christmas lights, memories sprang to life. On that bridge, overlooking that man-made creek, we had taken our prom pictures, and in that gazebo, I had rocked Madison as she cried after we caught Brian Davidson making out with Michelle Warner. And in there, on the dance floor, I had played Coke and P
epsi for half my thirteenth year.
I sighed happily, hooking my arm through Ryan’s. I hadn’t wanted to come, but now that I was here, everything felt nostalgic in the very best of ways. And it felt beautiful, too, in a way it hadn’t when I actually lived here. Now, the gentle jazz humming through the gardens sounded like an echo of a charmed past. My gauzy dress wisped slightly against my legs.
“Very country-club,” Ryan whispered, and I laughed.
“Every town needs at least one place where you can pretend you need to dress up, and have an excuse to look nice.” I looked around at my classmates, who all trickled through the landscaped garden and into the hall. “The actual country club is way more relaxed. Everyone just goes there to swim or play tennis or whatever.”
Ryan skittered a glance at me and didn’t say anything.
We stepped in through the open doors. Strung up across the entrance, a cheesy sign welcomed my class year in black and orange colors. Our school colors had always put me more in mind of Halloween than class spirit.
Three women sat behind a desk filled with name stickers. “Hi. I’m Rachael Hamilton.”
“Rachael!” Jenna Hutchenson, who I vaguely recognized as one of Sophie’s third-tier cronies, handed me a tag. “How good to see you! Here’s your nametag. And is this your boyfriend?” She beamed up at Ryan.
“Uh-huh.” I beamed just as brightly before dragging Ryan away. I stood on my tiptoe to speak in his ear. “And this is a small town. I did mention that, didn’t I?”
“I caught on when I met all your friends last night.”
“No, no.” I waved that away. “That wasn’t small-towniness. The fact that everyone here is going to know exactly who you are and how long we’ve been together, despite my friends only meeting you yesterday and Sophie last week—that is going to be the small-town effect.”
“Uh, I did mention I grew up in the country, didn’t I? I think I have you beat on small towns.” He took in the hall. “Though you guys definitely have us beat on suburbia. This is unbelievable. This isn’t your twenty-fifth year reunion. This isn’t even your ten-year reunion. Why the hell did you guys rent this whole place?”
“Casey Michael’s aunt owns it. And, as I heard it last night, apparently she cut us a deal five years ago where our senior class booked it for like a quarter of the price.” I shrugged. “Apparently that’s where the money from all those car washes went.”
He shook his head in disbelief.
I surveyed the room. There were already about a hundred of us, the girls dressed like they were ready for the red carpet, the guys mostly in jeans and khakis. Clumps had formed, and my mouth curved up. Were we all going to stand around in the same cliques we had been in during high school?
At one corner of the bar, I saw about half my friends, toying slightly with letting one of the other clumps join. Lead members of each group chatted with each other, while the rest hung back. I aimed us in their direction.
“Rachael Hamilton?”
Surprised and pleased someone outside my group wanted to talk to me, I turned to find a cluster of girls with strikingly similar hairstyles and makeup standing by my elbow. They stared at me with faces I half-remembered, and I felt guilty for not recalling their names. “Hi! How are you?”
“Great,” one said, her voice husky.
“How have you been?” The second’s eyes slipped toward Ryan. Actually, all their gazes did, and they angled their bodies at him, too.
Seriously?
I grimaced apologetically. “Small town.”
“As long as no photographers show up,” he murmured for my ears only. I laughed as he turned on the charm and greeted the girls.
A few minutes later, Madison snuck up to my side. She took in the girls hanging on Ryan’s every word, and then dismissed them with the same utter disdain she’d mastered in high school. Nice to know some things never changed. “This is embarrassing. But my brothers heard from Zac’s little sister that you brought Ryan, and they basically attacked me and begged for an autograph. It was pathetic, really. But.”
I grinned at her. “Go for it.”
She scowled. “Please don’t make me ask.”
I raised my brows at her. It was good for Madison to be embarrassed.
“He’s talking to those clone girls,” she whined.
I squeezed her hand, feeling cheerful. “And I am so happy we now have a reason to ditch them.” I touched Ryan’s arm. “Ryan, I think you met Madison yesterday? One of my best friends.”
Ryan, being Ryan, not only signed the poster the twins had sent in with Madison, but went a step beyond. “We’re going back to the city early in the morning. I have practice. But maybe next time we’re here we could swing by.”
“All right,” Madison muttered to me as the three of us headed over to our larger group of friends. “It’s possible this one’s a keeper.”
After half an hour or so, the former senior class officers—whose post graduation life I had yet to learn anything about—ushered us into the adjoining hall, where rows of folding chairs were set up before a slightly raised platform. Long wide windows stretched along one wall, letting in natural lights during the day, but now the room dimmed and all the focus went to the stage.
Sophie came out in red from head to toe, ruby talons matching killer stilettos. This was the girl I remembered from high school, not the overly sweet one in my parents’ presence.
“Hey, everyone,” she purred, and about half the class hooted in response. She let out a laugh. “I’m so happy you all came. I can’t believe how long it’s been since we were all together. Just like high school, right? But with more alcohol. Well, more out in the open.” She paused and grinned at the rolling laugher. “I’d like to thank Casey for convincing her aunt to rent us the Inn at a way better rate than any of the other classes. And I’d also like to welcome my friend Ryan Carter, who squeezed us into his busy schedule.”
She flashed painfully white teeth as the entire room swiveled to stare at Ryan, as though everyone knew exactly where he sat and was just waiting for a socially acceptable moment to stare at him. One genius cried out “Go Pats!” and awkward, embarrassed titters echoed across the hall.
“Thanks, Soph,” Ryan called out, as though the two hundred odd eyes fastened on him didn’t exist. “Now I hear there’s a slideshow?”
“There sure is.” Sophie clicked a button on her computer with a flourish. “Welcome back to Ashbury High!”
The lights dimmed, and the Top 40 from almost a decade ago came on, songs we had danced to at proms and clips from quickly loved, quickly forgotten bands. We watched four years of braces and bad hair and pimples. For the first two, I hardly showed up, the pictures dominated by Sophie’s gang, but as upperclassmen my friend group had come into its own, and if felt like a third of these photos were ours. Our faces shone with such love, such happiness, as though we had the whole world at our feet.
The lights came back on and everyone clapped. Ryan gave me a quizzical look. “You always dismiss high school. But you looked so happy.”
“I know.” We followed the crowd back into the entertainment hall. Most headed straight for the bar. “I guess sometimes I forget. But parts of it were really good.”
For the next few minutes, people kept sidling up to Ryan, including, I was fairly certain, the clump that had booed him. There was a bit of awkwardness with people like former high school quarterback Chris Howell, who acted particularly chummy, and class nerd Gerald Jones, who thought Ryan might want to fund his start-up. But Ryan handled them all with the serenity he applied whenever he played public figure.
Ryan was speaking to a group of former druggies and I was planning a strategic retreat back to my friends when Sophie sashayed to our side. She inserted herself between us and the other classmates. “I’m so glad you’re here. She hugged me and then kissed Ryan on the cheek as though it wasn’t totally affected. “It was so nice of you to come.”
Ryan smiled politely and began to respond,
but one of the guys who’d been speaking shunted Sophie away and regained his attention.
Good, because enough was enough. “Hey, can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Sure, Rach,” Sophie chirped. “What’s up?”
Shit about to hit the fan. “What the hell was that about?”
Her pretty face froze, her perfect lips parting in faux confusion. “I was just saying hi.”
“There was no reason for you to mention Ryan on stage. Not only is this Ashbury’s reunion and you shouldn’t have been talking about someone who didn’t even go to this school, but you dragged a person into the limelight without any indication that he wanted to be there.”
As my words went on, outrage stretched across Sophie’s face. “I did that for you. I was being nice!”
Someone needed to teach Sophie a new value system. “Sorry, I don’t follow. How is bothering my boyfriend ‘for me’?”
“So people would know he was with you! It was like a compliment!”
“You didn’t even say my name.”
She let out a huff of incredulity. “Yeah, but everyone knew.”
I shook my head in disgust. “You know what, Sophie? It sounded like you were trying to drag yourself up on his coattails. And why didn’t you mention David?”
“Why would I?” she snapped. “He didn’t even want to be up there!”
“Excuse me?”
Bitterness infused her voice. “Trust me. He made that very clear.”
Good for David. There was no reason he should be dragged on stage and used as a Ken doll in Sophie’s perfect life. “Why are you even dating my brother?”
Her nose scrunched up unattractively, and her lips pursed, mouse-like. “Because I like him.”
I snorted. “Yeah. You like his money. And trips to San Leandro.”
She looked, of all things, infuriated. Like she might even stomp her foot. “No! I like him! God, what is your problem?”
How could she possibly like my brother, who was such a far cry from her usual thick-necked paramours? My shoulders tensed and my neck stiffened. “And it’s just sheer coincidence you started dating him after he became hugely successful at his job?”
