She jogged to meet me. “You feeling better? I was worried the other night when you left the frat party, and you haven’t answered your phone.”
I immediately felt sorry for brushing her off. She was sweet, and she meant well. “Yeah, I’m fine. I guess the heat got to me. Sorry if I made you worry.” I used Jace’s lame excuse, even though in reality it was a little chilly that night.
“As long as you’re okay.” She relaxed. “You have plans later? My last class is at three, and I’m dying for a mani/pedi. Wanna come?” She really was a cute girl. Tight blonde curls, big amber eyes, and this almost childlike personality. Kind of like an overgrown Shirley Temple.
I smiled. “Sure. I could use some girly unwind time. Meet me at my apartment at four-thirty.”
Jessie gave a few short claps of her hands, bouncing up and down. Her smile was so broad that I swore she was going to wind up with a mouthful of hair one of these days. “Yay! Okay, see ya then. I can’t wait!” She popped a kiss on my cheek and hurried off to her next class.
I watched her retreating figure, looking on with wonder at how she could be so genuinely happy. Then I remembered once upon a time I was happy like that, too.
I’m three, my sister five, and we’re sitting, legs dangling off the swing on our front porch. Chocolate ice cream runs down our arms, dripping from cones and onto our flowered, cotton jumpers. We giggle over our chocolate-coated chins.
Mommy comes out, and we give her sly little grins. “Look at you two! Did you even eat any of it?” She’s pretending to be mad, but her smirk gives her away.
We bat our eyelashes and sing in a chorus we’ve mastered, “Sowwwyyyy, Mommmyyyyyy.”
“It’s okay,” she says, giving up the charade. “Come and get washed up, you two.”
The glider flies behind us as we hop off, leaving brown, sticky footprints in our wake as we scurry around to the side of the house to use the hose and wash away the evidence, giggling all the while. With an evil laugh, Mommy turns on the water and sprays us, and we run in circles, screaming and laughing, trying to escape.
The giggles faded, and I was left in a hall, surrounded by strangers. My smile slowly receded at the corners as I hung my head, tucked my hair behind my ear, and quickly walked away before anyone could see the tear forming in the corner of my eye.
I swiped at my cheeks and kept my head bowed, raising my eyes sporadically so I didn’t bump into anyone. Still unsure of the geography of the building, I chanced a glance up, elongating my body to peer around and find an exit, when my feet stopped moving.
The guy who had helped me the other night stood in front of me, leaning against a wall with his knee bent. He was laughing as he spoke excitedly with Eric. Motionless, I stared, blinking away the tears I was struggling to keep at bay.
He looked so different when he smiled. Different from the guy whose intense gaze stayed focused on me. Different from the one who helped me with concern etched into his features. He looked carefree and alive, how a typical, college-aged person should look.
I took a long, deep swallow, watching the hair that loosely brushed his forehead. His Adam’s apple vibrated in his throat with each hearty chuckle, and he had the cutest dimple I’d ever seen. I didn’t get to see that the other day.
I studied his movements, cataloging each of them into compartments in my brain so I could call upon them whenever I liked. I envied him. And even stranger was I felt myself wanting to know him.
Just as that thought brushed my subconscious, Eric nodded his head in my direction, a snide smirk on his lips. The stranger looked over then, and his smile faltered, his dimple slowly disappearing. Recognition flashed in his eyes, and he dropped his foot from the wall and started toward me.
Crap!
Turning, I shrunk myself as small as possible and squeezed through the throng of students, desperate to find a way out. In the near distance, I saw it—the double doors I entered this morning. Finally! I slammed my palms on the metal and shoved through the doors, ducking to the side. After a few moments had passed, I chanced a look through the glass cutout.
In the midst of the crowd, his eyes darted from left to right, studying everyone. He completed a slow spin, scanning faces. Not finding what he was looking for, the tension in his shoulders slackened. He laced his fingers at his nape and looked up, working the bones in his square jaw. Then he slapped his palm on the wall, hung his head, and turned to walk in the opposite direction.
Disappointment washed over me from the outside in. I wanted to open the door and call to him, but I refrained. Instead, I blew out the giant lump of air I was holding, then ran down the steps and away from him.