by Anna Rezes
two
Arriving on campus, I realize I have an hour to spare before class. I was so desperate to escape the wedding planning that I didn’t realize how early I would be for my lecture. In an attempt to distract myself, I walk around campus before settling on a bench. I try to enjoy the perfect weather, but my mind keeps wandering back to the hallucination, so I dig out my phone for something to do. I have no one to call or text, and after years of bullying and harassment, I deleted all social media. I put my phone down and search my backpack for a granola bar.
“Hey, Em.”
Looking up, I recognize the tall, broad-shouldered guy wearing his usual jeans and t-shirt. He looks like an athlete, though he never played any sports in high school. Between his muscular build, his natural bronzed skin, and dark spiky hair, he has broken a lot of hearts over the years, mostly because he ignored the incessant teen stalkers. I’ve always respected him for that, and right now I’m surprised he didn’t ignore me, after all, he is Gavin’s best friend.
Caught off guard, I set my phone down and stutter, “Oh! H . . . hey, Ben. I didn’t know you were taking summer classes.”
“I’m not an overachiever like you. I’m just checking it out,” he says, acting like nothing is wrong.
“Oh,” I say, feeling self-conscious. “So, what do you think?”
He smiles but shakes his head. “I’m still undecided. My parents want me to go to a university out of state, but I think this would be a better fit.”
“I didn’t know you were applying out of state. Isn’t it too late to get in anywhere? The deadlines were months ago.”
He shrugs, saying, “I’m not too worried about it. I don’t think taking a year off will destroy my life. My parents disagree, so they plan to have me move to the East Coast to start classes at the end of August. We’ll see about that.”
“East Coast? What School?”
Again, he shrugs. “Like I said, I’m undecided.”
I don’t want him to move away, but I always knew he would go places. Still, I’ll miss him. I already miss him in the month we haven’t talked. Shame comes flooding back, and I look away trying to ignore the tension between us.
He settles next to me, his face reflecting my worry, even as his big brown eyes comfort me. “You disappeared after graduation or really even before that.”
“I’m sorry,” I say because I’m not exactly sure what he’s asking for, but sorry pretty much covers it all.
He begins, “This thing between you and Gavin—”
I cut him off. “Listen, I know I hurt Gavin. I don’t need you to remind me. Honestly, I’m surprised you even said hi. I’m not gonna bug you, or Alec, or Gavin. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mess it all up.” I stand, wanting to get as far away as possible. I turn to pick up my bag, but it’s still unzipped, and in my haste, I fumble with the zipper.
He catches my hand. “Emily, what are you talking about? You didn’t mess anything up. You and Gavin gave it a shot. It didn’t work. So what? We’re still friends.”
My eyes narrow with doubt.
He looks amused. “Emily, we’ve been friends since sixth grade. Do you think we can’t be friends because of this?”
I point out, “You’ve been friends with Gavin longer.”
“It’s not an either/or kind of situation. It’s simple. Do you want to be my friend, Em?”
I was friends with boys to avoid this kind of conversation. After overhearing my sister fight with her girlfriends, I decided early in life that most girls were just too intense for me and now here I am acting like a girl.
Ben’s face turns serious. “Em?”
“Of course, I want to be friends.”
He grins, reminding me why so many girls throw themselves at him. I’m not immune to his good looks, but I’ve built up a tolerance over the years. He’s my friend, and I’ve never wanted or expected more.
He moves his hand from mine to pat the bench, waiting for me to sit down before he says, “Glad we figured this thing out.”
“I broke up with him on his birthday,” I remind him, in case he forgot and that might change his mind.
He snickers, “Yeah, about that. I thought you were into him.”
“I tried to be into him, I mean, I like Gavin. He’s just . . .” I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know. It felt weird. You guys are like brothers to me.”
“Oh,” he says, before going introspective on me. He does that sometimes. I don’t force conversation. I know he’ll start talking again once he’s sorted everything out in his head. Sometimes, I wish I could crawl in there with him to see what’s so important.
In the silence, I gaze across campus. A blond guy leaning against a tree averts his gaze making it obvious he had been watching me. I observe him back. It’s only fair. Summer looks good on him with his sun-kissed complexion and short blond locks. I peer down at my pale arms and can’t remember the last time I had a good tan. I glance back, and he’s looking straight at me, sending a shiver through my body. Instead of looking away, I watch as he runs a hand through his messy blond hair. It looks soft, and I feel an urge to touch it. That’s strange. I’ll pretend I didn’t just want to touch a stranger’s hair.
Embarrassed, I stare at my feet waiting for Ben to say something.
“Are you busy tomorrow night?” Ben asks.
“I work until eight.”
“Let’s hang out. I’ll pick you up after work, and we can grab a bite.”
“I assume you’ll want to take my car,” I say with a smirk.
He laughs. “No, no, I’ll drive,” he insists.
Ben hates my car. He’s tried to persuade me to let him work on it, but I’ve seen the work he’s done to his own car, and I don’t want an extravagant sound system or custom rims. I don’t want to boost my engine, whatever that means. I like my car as it is.
“What? You wouldn’t want to be caught in my—what do you call it? Scrap metal?” I tease.
“Well, I figured if we took your car, we’d spend most of the night waiting for a tow.”
“Hey, she’s got a lot of life left in her.”
“That’s very optimistic of you!” he says between chuckles.
“I’ve become quite attached to my hunk of scrap metal.”
“It makes sense. You’ve always gravitated towards broken things. Take your dog, for instance.”
“You’re right. I mean, why else would we be friends?”
“Touché,” he says, standing to leave. “Now that you’ve wounded my ego, I’m gonna go enjoy summer while you waste away in class. See you tomorrow, Em.”
I watch him leave before I resume searching for my granola bar. I pull out a few books, and just as I thought, I find my snack smashed at the bottom of my bag. I eat it anyway. It’s exceedingly messy despite my careful bites, and I’m covered in crumbs by the time I finish. I stand to wipe the crumbs from my clothes.
I hear laughter and look up. Under that same tree, the blond guy is shaking with amusement. His eyes lock with mine before he glances down to where I’m brushing crumbs from my shirt. He’s laughing at me. Heat touches my cheeks as embarrassment floods my body. Turning my back to him, I gather my things, desperate to escape. I don’t need to look to know he’s still watching me. It’s as if I can feel his eyes following my movements.
I turn to leave, catching his unabashed smile as he looks me in the eye with blatant curiosity. I stare back at him, finding myself mesmerized by his bright eyes and breathtaking grin. I don’t smile back, but I can’t look away. I panic as he moves toward me. I tell myself to look elsewhere, but something about him pulls me a step closer.
Though he looks to be in his early twenties, he doesn’t fit here, standing out like a shiny quarter in a jar of pennies. He would be more suited as a model for a runway in Paris than a simple community college. Nevertheless, here he is striding toward me, stealing my breath and filling me with an overwhelming urge to run. His sexy smirk gives me the impression he knows all my secrets.
Get a grip, Emily. He’s just a guy!
But even as I scold myself, his bright blue eyes wash through me, paralyzing me, leaving me captivated. He’s about to walk right up to me, but I can’t let that happen. If this is how I react to him at a distance, what effect will he have up close?
Annoyed he’s affecting me this way, I pry my eyes from him, pull out my phone, and pretend to answer a call. When I peek through my lashes, he’s still coming my way.
I take a deep breath and watch him pass by. He’s near enough to touch, near enough to smell his sweet masculine scent. Unexpected disappointment crashes over me as I watch him walk away. I expect him to turn around or look back, but instead, he rounds a corner moving out of sight. I stand, unable to move, completely hypnotized by this mysterious blond guy. I shake myself out of my weird trance. Brushing off the strange encounter, I head to class.
Humanities class is held in the largest lecture hall on campus which is nonessential with such a small summer class. Students are sprawled out through the enormous room. I find a seat halfway down the aisle and sit to the far right making sure to avoid my fellow students. I pull my phone from my pocket and play games until the elderly professor limps up to the podium at the front of the room. He looks like he should have retired at least ten years ago, but once I experience the way he teaches with enthusiasm and passion, I’m grateful he’s still teaching. He makes the class feel like story time. His lecture goes on for two hours before he dismisses the class late, with apologies.
Tardy for my next class, I jump out of my seat, flinging my book bag around, so it drapes the front of me. I load my books as I rush to the exit. I am barely paying attention when I approach the door and almost run into the back of another student. Startled, I look up, stopping just in time to avoid plowing into him. I smell the familiar scent before I recognize the expensive clothing. The blood drains from my face as I stare up at the mysterious blond guy from earlier.
He’s laughing at me again. “You’re terribly clumsy, aren’t you?” he says in a deep silky voice. “It’s rather endearing to find such a beautiful woman whose movements completely contradict the elegance a body like yours suggests.”
Unsure how to respond to such an inappropriate comment, I try to move around him, but he steps in my way. “Allow me,” he says, pushing the door open. He stands in the doorway, holding it open for me.
Even after I look away, I feel the intensity of his stare. I squeeze by him, speeding out the door without a word when I hear him murmur, “Until we meet again.”
I half run to my next class. When I enter the classroom, the professor doesn’t even notice me taking a seat in the back. Of course, now I’m winded and focus on slowing my rapid breathing.
It’s only an hour, but despite coming in ten minutes late the remaining fifty minutes feel like an eternity. The freshman orientation class is required, so even though it’s a joke, everyone is forced to take it. I tune out the teacher as she rambles on about all the library has to offer.
I use my time to mull over the strange situation with the alluring blond guy. I have humanities lecture with him, so I will most definitely see him again. I am good at ignoring people, so I don’t know why I’m letting him get to me. Why was it so hard for me to look away from him? Never in my life have I been one to swoon over a guy, but the attraction was intense, and I hate the small part of me that looks forward to seeing him again, especially after he laughed at me and called me clumsy.
After class, I drive home. I pull up to our ranch style house built back in the seventies. My parents purchased it ten years ago, thinking this little suburb outside of Columbus would be a safe place. They had the intention of fixing it up. I remember my mom digging out big bushes in front of the porch, leaving large holes in the flowerbed. She told me I could pick out my favorite flowers and we’d plant them together.
That was nine years ago, just before she left. I look down at the big holes of dried dirt covered with weeds as I step onto the porch, reminding me of one of the many broken promises. I walk through the front door, leaving the constant reminder behind.
Maggie is standing in the front room with her tail nub wagging excitedly, taking her hips along for the ride. “Hey, Mags!” I lean over to pet her head. “Ben doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re perfect,” I say to her.
Three summers ago, the young Doberman Pincher showed up on our front porch. When I found her curled up on our doorstep, her ears were clipped, her tail docked, and she was bleeding, broken, and severely malnourished. She took to me immediately, but when Dad came to look, she snapped at him. He wanted to take her to the pound, but I knew they would likely put her to sleep. It was obvious she wasn’t taken care of, and I felt she deserved a second chance. I persuaded Dad to let me keep her with the understanding if she ever tried to bite me, the pound would be her fate. He couldn’t deny how gentle she was with me and eventually, she stopped growling at him.
Dad’s keys are on the rack, and I realize he must’ve parked in the garage.
“Em?” he calls from the kitchen.
I walk into the small outdated kitchen and drop my bag on one of the tattered wooden chairs. “Hey, Dad.”
My dad is tall with dark hair and olive skin. He’s standing next to the sink fiddling with something. There are a couple of plates on the yellowing laminate counter next to him. I look up at the clock. It’s five-thirty. He usually doesn’t make it home until after six-thirty.
“You’re early,” I comment.
“Between projects,” he says.
Dad’s job is important, but I still can’t understand what exactly it is he does. He’s some kind of IT system analyst, and apparently, that requires working a lot of overtime.
“I talked to Samantha,” he says. His eyes always light up whenever he talks about Sam. She will always be his little princess.
“Oh, you know she found the perfect Cinderella dress today.”
“Yes,” Dad says, “she told me I couldn’t see it until the wedding.” I can tell he wants to be more involved with the wedding plans, but he doesn’t know how. “Your turn to shop next, huh?”
“Yeah,” I groan, “bridesmaids next Thursday.”
Understanding my animosity toward shopping, he encourages, “Be patient with your sister. This is a big deal for her.”
“I know, she’s been planning this day since she was in the womb. I don’t get it, but I’ll be supportive.”
“I know you will,” he says, as he motions toward the back door. “You hungry?”
I look out through the window and see the grill already smoking on the porch. It’s out of the ordinary for him to be home for dinner and usually, when he is, we order pizza.
“Yeah, what’re you making?”
“Burgers.” He grins, picking up a plate of ground beef molded into thick lumps.
“I’m always hungry for burgers.”
three
The next morning, I arrive at work a few minutes before ten. I park my car next to Ashley’s old yellow Mustang. I like working with Ashley because there is never a dull moment. She’s tall and thin with hair so bleached it looks white. Her blue work t-shirts are always way too tight, yet she still insists on knotting the back of the shirts, so her stomach shows. She turned twenty-one a few weeks ago and occasionally comes to work hungover. She gets away with it because she’s the owner’s daughter. It irritates some of the other employees, but I think she’s entertaining.
I walk through the door, and Ashley’s face pops around the corner with a horrified expression. “Oh my God, Emily! I’m so glad you’re here!” She comes at me in a panic. “So, I’m like totally freaking out!” She grabs me by the arm and hauls me toward the row of fish tanks. “I don’t know who left the lid off, but they are like, everywhere!”
We round the corner. “Oh!” Crickets are scattered everywhere.
Ashley’s face is ghost white. “You know I hate bugs!”
I crack a half smile. “You know t
hey won’t hurt you, right?” She rolls her eyes at me, but I see a shiver run through her and know she needs me to do this for her. “I’ll get ‘em. Don’t worry.”
She claps her hands together. “I am so glad you’re here. I thought I was like, gonna die.” I see another chill go through her.
“Go!” I order her away.
“Thank you. I’ll owe you forever!” she says, hurrying back toward the registers.
It takes me most of the morning to gather the crickets, and we get busy with customers in the afternoon which makes the day go quickly.
“So, you’re almost eighteen,” Ashley says, as she locks the front doors at the end of the day.
“Yep, July third.” I sweep a pile of bird seed from the floor.
“Do you have plans?”
“No,” I answer, immediately wishing I could take it back.
“You should totally come to my party!” She is hell-bent on corrupting me. I enjoy hearing her crazy stories, but I have no desire to become one.
“Well . . .” I try to think of a way around this.
“Come on! You need some fun in your life.” She jumps up to sit on the counter. “When’s the last time you hung out with friends?”
I regret telling her what happened with the guys. She knows too much for me to lie.
“Well, actually I’m meeting a friend tonight.”
“Oh? And who is this friend of yours?”
“Ben. I ran into him yesterday.”
“I thought you said they all hated you,” she says, crossing her legs in a very Sam kind of fashion.
“Guess I was wrong.” I shrug.
She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “How come I’ve never met any of these guys before?”
