Whenever he aimed that dimpled smile my way, I felt a jolt of excitement—in my vagina.
I was sexually frustrated. I wanted Harrison so badly that I would probably sell my soul for a night of debauchery between the sheets with him.
My mind constantly drifted to that night we hooked up. If Amelia hadn't walked in on us, how far would we have gone? I wasn't into public sex, but if Harrison had ripped my panties off and slid into my wet, quivering pussy, I would probably have assisted him inside me. It didn't help that I had experienced a sneak preview of his sizable bulge against my mound. The dude was impressively endowed, but I still ached to test my theory in person.
"I haven't really spoken to or seen him since then." Harrison scratched at his chin, his eyes staring off into the distance.
I had finally worked up the nerve to start chatting about our high school days. It was common for most young people in Ashburton to leave for bigger cities or, like me, go out of state for college. A lot stayed gone, but there were still a good few who returned to Ashburton to settle down.
After all, we weren't isolated. We had two neighboring towns, one slightly larger, to which residents of Ashburton could commute.
A handful of Harrison's old crew stayed in Ashburton—namely James, Jessica, and Dee—but I was curious about Kyle's whereabouts. Even his family seemed to have moved away.
According to Harrison, Kyle had been on drugs the majority of the time we knew him. He had started drinking and smoking weed at an early age, but by the time he was in high school, he had progressed to harder substances.
After Harrison caught him smoking meth, he urged him to quit, even threatening to tell their coach. Unfortunately, that threat only fueled Kyle to become more adept at covering up his addiction.
It all came to a head when he drove, high out of his mind, and crashed into the side of our local post office. Luckily, since it was after hours, no one had been inside and even Kyle had escaped relatively unscathed. Even though Harrison had since cut ties with Kyle by the time of the accident, he still visited him in the hospital and offered his support whenever needed.
Kyle's mental state had been a mess, so his parents shipped him off to a rehab facility in Lexington before selling their house and following a few months later.
"Wow," I commented, shocked. "I hope he's doing okay."
I genuinely meant that. Kyle had been an asshole, not only to me, but to others around him. Yet I couldn't help but wonder how he may have turned out if he hadn't become addicted to harmful drugs. I smoked the occasional joint, and all it did for me was a pleasant high and a ravenous appetite.
In contrast, a friend of mine who suffered from mental health issues stayed clear of any mind-altering substances, knowing that they had a negative effect on her behavior and moods.
All of this wasn't an excuse, of course; after all, Kyle could have been sober and still acted like a dick. Yet it did soften the hatred I had once felt for him.
"I'm always here if he needs anything. But unless he's done a complete personality overhaul as well as kicking his drug habit, I can't be a friend to him anymore."
"He was always an angry kid," I recalled. "I was surprised when you started hanging with him."
Harrison shook his head in quiet reproof. "It was one of my many bad choices in life, for sure. He started off being this lovable bully–I know that's not the right thing to say–"
"No, I get it. He was the class clown. Kinda mean, kinda adorable, always teasing the teachers and giving them a hard time but in a jokey way. Somewhere down the line, he just turned plain mean."
"Yeah, he was the cool kid. I was thrilled when he wanted to hang out."
I leaned my chin against my hand as I studied him. "But it seemed like you were the leader of the pack by the time we hit high school?"
One by one, everyone started taking his lead. He was the school quarterback, handsome, funny, and charming. Just not to me.
"Yeah, he just became too erratic. Starting too many fights, a real hot head. He was a talented tight end, so he scraped by with a lot of chances. I'm ashamed to say that I helped him with his schoolwork. All I cared about was having my friends with me and having a good time. Pretty soon, he started following me and doing what I did or said. The power went to my head, for sure."
"You don't say," I breathed. But this time, instead of censure, amusement danced in my eyes.
Harrison leaned forward, mirroring my movements. His eyes lowered to my mouth.
"Have dinner with me."
I jerked back in surprise, heart in my throat. Out of all the things, I wasn't expecting that.
"What?"
"Have dinner with me. Tomorrow," he clarified. "We were gonna meet up anyway to discuss the reunion–"
"Which we've barely talked about."
