"You don-" I don't give her time to finish the argument.
"I know. I want to." I added some buffer time to do just this for them. It's the least I can do for them while I'm here. Asking for someone who does yardwork is also on my list to talk to my friends about.
"Don't work yourself too hard."
"I won't."
I walk down the short hallway and toss my bag into my room. I'll see what they've changed in my room when I come back inside, right now I want to get this done. It's the only thing that will keep my mind from wandering to Jaylen.
Alternative rock is blasting through the speakers as I enter the local bar. It's not as big as Out of the Ashes, but it's enough to hold my graduating class. At least that's what it feels like. Maybe there's just too much clutter everywhere.
"Patrick!" I look in the direction of my name being called. Hudson and Liam are, of course, leaning against the bar. I don't know why I expected to find them anywhere else.
There's an empty space between the both of them. I can only assume it's for me. The only problem is, there's a table by the door with a woman I vaguely remember standing behind it.
"Hey, Patrick," she waves me over, "glad to have you back for the reunion. Just grab one of those stickers and write your name on it."
For the life of me I can't remember her name. "Hey." Working in the bar, this is the best way I've found to greet people when I don't know names. "Thanks."
Quickly, I use the marker to write my name on the sticker, peel the back off and slap it on my chest. I know I've done the right thing when the woman nods and gives an appreciative smile. "Have a great night."
Vacating the area, I hurry toward my friends. Other people I went to school with wave at me, and I wave back. This is why I didn't want to come. Attention focused on me is unsettling. Especially since I went to culinary school instead of doing what the entire town hoped I would, and continue playing football.
"Long time no see," Hudson slaps me on the back, "I wondered if you were actually going to come."
"I definitely had my doubts." Even after I responded, I thought of a million different ways I could bail. I even tried to give Angie a lame excuse about being needed there. But she wasn't having it.
Liam bumps my shoulder, "I'm glad you came. It's been a while since we've hung out."
"Y'all are free to come to Asheville whenever you want. I have plenty of room."
"You realize that drive is long, and boring, right?" Hudson shakes his head.
"Flights aren't that expensive, and you're close enough to a major airport."
"Still," he waves his hands no, "I'd rather not."
"You never know what you might be missing, if you'd travel a bit. What's the point of staying in the same town you grew up in when there’s a huge world out there for the taking."
I say all that as I ended up settling in a small town. It's different, though. Now that Out of the Ashes istheplace to be in the area, we meet all sorts of people.
"I like it here," Hudson shrugs, "I'm a short distance from the city without all the people."
It makes sense. Changing his mind isn't going to happen anytime soon, if ever. Back in high school, he made it perfectly clear he was happy staying here to take over the family business.
"Besides," Liam laughs, "if you were here more often, you'd be able to catch up with Jaylen."
Why did he have to bring her up? She's the whole reason I debated coming. We were best friends as kids. She was part of our friend group throughout high school. At least until I ruined things right before leaving for culinary school. If I had kept my mouth shut things wouldn't be weird between us.
"Jaylen's doing her own thing, and I'm doing mine. Me being here wouldn't change that."
"Are you sure about that?" Hudson grins.
"Yeah, why?"
"Because she just walked in with her friends, and she's heading straight for us." Liam laughs. He's supposed to be the one with reason, not the one about to put me in uncomfortable situations.
Turning toward the entrance, I see her. A big part of me wants to approach her and catch up. The other part wants to melt into the bar.
