The relief that floods through me is embarrassing. I clear my throat, trying to play it cool.
"Just so we're clear." She jabs a finger at me. "This is fake. No feelings. No falling in love."
I lift my hands in surrender and feel a smirk tug at my mouth. "Relax. No feelings. Check. I think I can manage that." But my mind is thinking ...
... Too late! Ten years too fucking late.
But out loud, all I do is grin and add, "Scout's honor."
"Well." James claps his hands together with undisguised glee. "This calls for dinner. My treat. There's a great place around the corner."
Elise glances at James, then back at me, her expression still slightly dazed. "Sure. I could eat."
As we walk toward the restaurant, with no paps or fans, thank God, I catch James sneaking me odd looks at every opportunity, brows raised, knowing smile. I ignore him.
The restaurant James has chosen has dim lighting, comfortable booths, and exposed brick walls. James positions himself at the head of the table, leaving me directly across from Elise.
Perfect.
She unfolds her napkin and places it carefully in her lap. I notice her fingernails are short and unpolished. The memory of her bent over my essay slams into me with unexpected force.
Senior year. The tutoring center. I'd been struggling with an assignment on1984and was desperate enough to seek help. When I walked in, she was sitting alone at a table, nose buriedin a book, brown hair falling across her face. She looked up, and for a moment, I forgot why I was there. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I thought it might escape. Sitting down at that table opposite Elise, her eyes boring into mine, I couldn't even figure out what to do with my fucking hands.
Up until that point, I was a fairly confident guy. Had been all through high school.
I did try dating Mia more in response to her outrageously desperate flirting and constant attention. She virtually stalked me for a whole year. I almost ran out of excuses to avoid her advances and invitations.
When we did arrange a meet-up, she came onto me so hard I shut her down.
She went ballistic and flew into a rant, verbally attacking everything about me. How I was all show and no sizzle. Just a pretty boy not worthy of her high standards. Not the jock I made out to be. I escaped from that date, and then she gaslit me for the rest of the year. But I know she and her circle kept close tabs on me, especially on every female I chatted with. Mia sucked some of my confidence, or, at least, she tried, but obviously, not much. Mia did show me what a nasty piece of work she is, though.
"Wine?" James asks, jolting me back to the present.
We order a bottle to share. I watch Elise scan the menu, her teeth catching her bottom lip in concentration, exactly like she used to do when reading my terrible attempts at literary analysis. The urge to tug it with my thumb is so overwhelming I have to dig my heels into the floor for distraction.
"So," James says after our drinks arrive, "what's the plan for this reunion showdown?"
Elise takes a sip of wine. "I haven't thought that far ahead. My brain is still trying to process all this."
"It's simple," I say. "We show up together, looking good, act like we're into each other, and let Mia stew in her own juices."
"Okay?"
"What are you thinking, Elise?" I tell her, unable to keep the smile from my voice. "Show up, make Mia's head explode with jealousy, leave?"
"I was thinking more along the lines of a dramatic entrance and then hiding in the bathroom for two hours."
James snorts. "Classic Elise strategy."
"What?" She shoots him a look. "It worked in high school."
"That's why none of us ever saw you," I say before I can stop myself. Her eyes flick to mine, surprised. "I mean, you were always in the library or something. Hard to track down."
A pastel flush colors her cheeks. "I didn't think anyone was looking."
I was. Every day.
At the cafeteria. In the gym. By the parking lot.
