“Him, there. That perfect piece of flesh squeezed into those tailored slacks and dark red polo is AJ Quick.”
“Who?” I have no idea who that is.
“Are you kidding me?” she asks incredulously. I shrug. I honestly have no idea.
“He’s the quarterback for the LA Warriors.”
“Is that football?” I take a guess.
“How are we even friends?” she gasps.
“You know I don’t follow football.” She learned long ago that I wouldn’t watch games with her, or if I do, I pay no attention, too involved in my knitting.
“Well, you should follow the players at least.” She smirks and it’s my turn to roll my eyes.
“Oh stop it,” she says. “Look me in the eye and tell me you’d say no to AJ Quick.”
I look over at him. He’s tall, broad-chested, almost intimidating even though he looks kind rather than mean. He has golden hair, curling at his collar, and a ready smile. Not really my type, not that I have a type. Well, I do, but that hasn’t got me anywhere so far. The look Clara gives me when I’ve taken too long to answer tells me enough.
“Ha, my point exactly,” she exclaims. “I’m going to see if my card matches his and say hello.
“You can’t just go up to an NFL player and say hello.”
“I can if he’s silly enough to come to a school reunion in this two-bit town. If he didn’t want attention he shouldn’t have come here.”
She has a point, but on the other hand the guy does deserve his privacy.
“I’ll be back soon, and I’ll get us another drink.”
She’s already gone before I tell her not to bother with the drink, I can make this one last a long time. I sip at it and survey the room again. I see Miles Johnson. I remember he was on the swim team with Reece. We didn’t hang out back then, never became friends after school either even though neither of us have left town. I think he works as a handyman or something like that. I see he’s with Atlas St James who works in fashion. Although I don’t know him well either. As I look at the people gathered in the room, I realize I haven’t stayed in touch with many of them. Not that I’ve wanted to.
“Hi, I’m Amber.” A young woman startles me and I frown at her. Without a falter in her beaming smile she holds out a tablet to me.
“Would you like to vote for the next school mascot?”
“Wouldn’t that be more appropriate for the current students, since they have to live with it?” I ask.
“We’d be honored if you’d choose for us,” she replies, and I’m pretty sure she doesn’t speak for all the students with that, but it doesn’t look like she’s going away until I’ve chosen so I tapmy finger randomly on the screen, barely looking at it, and she buzzes off to accost the next nearest person. I take a gulp of my drink, forgetting for a moment that it’s alcohol. I sputter and nearly spit it out again. I swallow quickly and the drink hits my stomach, mingling with the drink I had earlier, and my stomach revolts at more alcohol by bubbling slightly. I can’t see Clara anymore, but I can still see the football player, so I guess she didn’t have much of a chance there. I flick my eyes over to the bar to search for her there and I see him.
Reece.
I automatically take another large gulp of my drink and instantly regret it as the queasiness increases. It has to be the effects of the drink and not that Reece is standing there barely twenty feet in front of me. He hasn’t seen me, or I don’t think he has. He’s looking around, scanning the room, and I’m a little off to the side out of his line of sight. I watch him for a minute, taking in how well his suit fits him. It’s cut well, expensive, he must be doing well for himself, and once again I regret my choice of knitwear. His brown hair is close-cropped and tidy, it suits him. He’s lean, like he still has the same swimmer’s body even if he has filled out a little—haven’t we all, some of us more than others—but he’s certainly looked after himself. The bastard.
He swivels and I see the exact moment he spots me. He blinks slowly and then his eyes light up. His mouth quirks into a little smile that looks uncertain, which is curious. He gulps down the drink he’s holding and starts moving. Shit! He’s coming over. The roiling in my stomach breaks into waves like a stormy sea crashing against rocks. He’s on a trajectory straight for me. I can’t avoid him, nor can I look away. I’m caught like a deer in headlights just awaiting my fate.
I try to suck in a breath in an attempt to actually breathe, though trying to do that normally as a way to steady my anxiety like I practiced with my therapist is beyond me. Also, in all of my therapy sessions the one thing they never prepared me for was how handsome he’d be. He really has aged well I can see, as I can’t tear my eyes away from him. I hate that after all this time he’s still so fucking gorgeous.
Reece.
My bully.
My first crush.
“Hi, Holden,” he says as he reaches me. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Those words echo back through time, over twenty years, to a spring day a few weeks before the end of the school year. Reece had been in a foul mood through all our morning classes. It sometimes happened and I knew he’d be looking to let off steam at lunch, which usually meant he’d lash out at me. I’d hidden under the bleachers on the baseball field, which wasn’t very original, and it didn’t take him long to find me. He stood, blocking my way out with a dark look on his face and the words, “I’ve been looking for you.”
Fear shudders through me at the memory and bile rises in my throat. I clamp my hand over my mouth. I might not be able to speak but there’s no way I’m going to embarrass myself by vomiting all over his expensive shoes. Shaking my head, I rush past him and run out of the gym.
