LoveLines

“Well, you’re about to learn,” I replied, heading for campus.

 

UNCW hosted the Stockbridge Home and Hearth Country Fair—the largest antiques and crafts fair in North Carolina. The lawn in front of the main administration building overflowed with vendors. Trask Coliseum was packed snugly, and the grounds around Randall Library were dotted with colorful tents featuring homemade foods.

 

“We’re the youngest ones here,” Reece whispered in line, and I laughed.

 

“So untrue,” I replied. “Didn’t you know that homemade is the ‘in’ thing? Vintage is cool? Buying local makes you smart?”

 

Reece looked at me dubiously.

 

“It’s true!” I cried.

 

He said nothing as he pointed to a group of old ladies in front of us, eyebrow raised at me.

 

“Whatever,” I said, brushing him off. “I hope the whole fair is filled with them. All those biddies are going for the quilts first. So they won’t be a problem for me.”

 

“How do you know they’re going for the quilts?”

 

“Because I’ve been doing this for years.” I scanned the line. Damn. Another girl who looked to be my age. I nudged Reece, and he leaned in. “That chick is headed where I’m headed.”

 

He looked at her, and I could tell he was devising a plan.

 

“She’s about three parties ahead of us,” he said at last. “If the line moves quickly enough, we can catch up to her.”

 

“And then what?”

 

“Take her out, of course.”

 

I burst out laughing.

 

“Hey, you want her nabbing your milk jug?” he asked.

 

“Will you stop it already with the milk jug? I don’t need another milk jug. And why are you so obsessed with it?”

 

“Because I’ve never seen one for decoration. Hell, I’ve never seen one.”

 

I rolled my eyes.

 

“You got the tickets?” Reece asked.

 

I held them up.

 

“Twenty bucks a pop,” he mumbled. “Ludicrous.”

 

I ignored him and adjusted my jacket. “Now listen. When we get in, start walking directly to Trask. Most of the furniture is in there.”

 

“Got it. Where’s Trask?”

 

“To the right.”

 

“You gonna teach me how to haggle?”

 

“Oh, I’m not very good at that. I try, but usually vendors don’t negotiate until late in the day. I don’t like to go then because all the good stuff’s gone,” I explained.

 

“So what are we looking for?” Reece asked, then added, “I mean, besides a bureau and a fireplace surround.”

 

I smirked. “Oh, I don’t know. Interesting stuff.”

 

“Interesting stuff, huh?”

 

We made it to the entrance, and my adrenaline kicked into high gear. Once we were through the gates, I picked up my pace. There were a few vendors I wanted to visit first. I’d mapped out our entire course last night, and Reece spent five minutes straight laughing at the notes I wrote in the margins: “Do not exceed 20 minutes” and “Check for dovetail joints—she’s wily” were his two favorites.

 

“Shut up!” I laughed when he reminded me of my notes. “This is my weird thing, okay?” I took his hand and led him through the doors of Trask Coliseum.

 

“Your one weird thing?” he asked dubiously.

 

“Oh my gosh, Reece, you’re hilaaaaarious,” I replied.

 

He stopped short, pulling me to a halt. “Bailey! Your fireplace surround!” He pointed to the right.

 

“Reece, there will be loads of fireplace surrounds. And that’s not my top priority anyway.”

 

I watched him deflate.

 

“Buuuuuut,” I added, realizing I needed to nurture his enthusiasm. After all, he was at an antique fair with me, and we hadn’t even established the girlfriend/boyfriend thing yet. The guy was amazing. “I really like that surround, so I think we oughta check it out.”

 

His face brightened. I ignored the poking in my chest.

 

You made a plan, Bailey. What are you doing? Your entire day is about to be thrown off if you walk over to that surround. Don’t do it. Don’t. Do. It.

 

We stood directly in front of the surround, considering its size and shape. It was pretty from afar. It was gorgeous up close, and I ran my hand over the detailed woodworking, imagining the piece in place of my headboard. I glanced at Reece every now and then. He studied the surround, observing every square inch before offering his opinion.

 

“This can’t fit in your bathroom,” he said.

 

“What about my room?”

 

“Where?”

 

“In place of my headboard,” I suggested.

 

He thought for a moment. “How’d you come up with that?”

 

“Saw it in a magazine.”

 

“I like it.”

 

“Me, too. I think I should get it,” I said, and then the buyer’s high exploded in my brain before I even spoke to the vendor. I snatched the price tag and went in search of him. Reece followed.

 

“Did we just buy furniture together?” Reece asked.

 

I nodded.

 

“Bailey,” he breathed. “This is . . . this is huge.” His eyes were wide and glassy.

 

“I know.”

 

I bought nothing else that day. I forgot the map. Tossed my list. Ignored some vendors I’d been planning to visit for months. After the fireplace surround purchase, I just wasn’t interested. I wanted to take Reece for a tour around campus instead, relive some favorite memories of my time as a Seahawk.

 

“This campus is beautiful,” he said as we strolled down the main sidewalk connecting the older part of campus with the newer part.

 

“For real,” I replied. “I wish there was half the stuff here when I was in school. I mean, look at that student union! Are you kidding me?”

 

“Not like that ten years ago?”

 

“Please.”

 

We lunched in Wagoner Hall. I showed him my old dormitory—Galloway Hall. We browsed the equipment in the new gym. I ran into an old professor who remembered my name.

 

“Wow. You certainly made an impression,” Reece said as we loaded my fireplace surround in Erica’s truck before heading home.

 

“She was my academic advisor, too,” I said.

 

“So what? She’s gone through tons of students by now. But she remembered you,” he said.

 

I warmed all over.

 

“Reece?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Thank you for coming with me.”

 

“I had fun.”

 

“Truly?”

 

“Truly.”

 

“Reece?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Is it too early for you to meet my best friend?”

 

“No,” he replied.

 

“Would you like to meet her tonight?”

 

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