Okay, so perhaps these people haven’t matured much. I dated Amy in high school, and I offered her a polite hello, but I have no interest in rekindling any old flames. Or kindling anything with anyone from home, for that matter.
Brayden shoulders me again. God, that’s going to get annoying. “You seen the girl in the pink dress? Don’t know who she is, but she’s smokin’.” He dips his chin at her, not being subtle at all. “You think she’s here with anyone? She definitely didn’t go to school with us.”
I find myself looking despite the fact I don’t want to talk about hot women all night. He’s right, though. The woman in question wears a pink dress that hugs her body, highlighting curves and smooth skin. She’s got a light tan. A long table covered with a cheap white tablecloth spans the length of the wall in front of her, where she picks up a plastic cup of water. She turns our way.
What in the . . .?
My blood turns to ice. A ringing starts in my head and throbs with every heartbeat, like I’ve been hit in the skull with a frying pan. And maybe I have.
Kendall. She’s here.
I stroll toward her, moving with purpose. She’s seen me, and she waits on me, arms folded over her middle as she stares at me in defiance. My body continues to pulse.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I plant my hands on my hips. A thread of unease curls around my throat. Has she followed me or something? Have I attracted a stalker?
She scoffs. “Jesus Christ, you’re stupid. Put the pieces together.”
I throw my hands in the air. “What pieces?” This woman. “Are you out to get me here? You have some sort of vendetta against me?”
A smile spreads on her face. She lays her hand on her chest. “I’m from this town. I graduated with you ten years ago.”
I twist my lips to the side. I study her, my eyes trailing over her features as I process this new information.
I picture my graduating class. She doesn’t fit anywhere, at least not that I can remember. Although . . .
My eyes widen, heart punching against my ribs. Oh, God. I can see it. She’s more polished and has a lighter hair color in a different style than she had in high school. She’s thinner, too, and she’s had orthodontics. She looks so different I have to squint to picture her teenage image. But her hazel eyes, the shape of her face, her height, her brilliance, her beautiful voice—it’s her. “Kenzie Amburgey?”
“It’s Kendall Hodges now. I took my mom’s last name.”
“I always thought Kenzie was short for Mackenzie,” I say, and it’s the dumbest response anyone has ever come up with. Her jaw slackens.
She pushes by me, heading for the door. Meanwhile, all the blood drains from my face, leaving me dizzy.
“Wait.” Kenzie. The things I said and did to her. “Fuck!”
I run after her, noting how her steps gain speed. I look like some crazed ex-lover chasing her, but I can’t let her leave without talking to her. Apologizing, if that’s possible. God, what a mess I’ve created. No wonder she hates me. I was her tormentor.
I’m an idiot. The biggest idiot. King of all the idiots.
I find her outside, straightening her dress and fiddling with her heel like she only came out here for a breather. Just like the night at karaoke, she’s more dressed up than almost everyoneelse, but it suits her. She owns it. Even as she glares at me, cheeks pink with anger and exertion, the sun filtering through her hair like a golden backdrop, she’s gorgeous.
“Don’t go,” I say. “I swear I had no idea it was you. I never knew you left town.”
She snorts. “Of course you wouldn’t think I went to college,” she says. “Even though I was smarter than you.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she talks over me.
“I can’t leave, anyway,” she says, straightening. “My friend is in there. I just left her alone, and she’s definitely wondering why I ran out.”
I lift my hands. “You had every right to do that, Kenzie. Kendall, I mean.” I grip the ends of my hair. I want to rip it out. “How can I ever say sorry for the way I treated you? I wish I had known it was you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” I shrug, helpless. “How could I not have known?”
Maybe I’ve blocked it all out. That’s the only viable explanation.
She’s back to looking composed again. If not for the tension in her jaw, I’d think she was fine.
“You want a good working relationship, right? That’s what you said.”
“God.” I rake a hand down my face. “I am so sorry. You must have wanted to hit me.” I swallow. “Hell,Iwant to hit me. I’ve wanted to apologize for years, but everything I read about apologizing made me feel like it would be more for me than for you. And I didn’t want to dredge all that up.” I rub the back of my neck. “And except for that one time senior year, sometimes I wasn’t even sure I got to you. You always seemed so hard to shake.”
