Contents

Falling into Ever After

Copyright

Dedication

Mixtapes & Roller Skates

Early Bird Special

The Right Equation

About the Author

Thank You

Falling into Ever After

A Mini Short Story Collection

By Tracy Krimmer

Copyright

Mixtapes & Roller Skates ©2015 by Tracy Krimmer

Early Bird Special ©2014 by Tracy Krimmer

The Right Equation ©2014 by Tracy Krimmer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Dedication

For all my newsletter subscribers. Thank you for your support!

Mixtapes & Roller Skates

Mariah Carey is my Doppleganger. At least I used to believe that. The second "Vision of Love" played through my speakers, I made sure to record it the next time the song played on the radio. The song circled on repeat, and eventually, I permed my brown hair and invested in a tight black jumpsuit. After that, Mariah became my love soundtrack.

In high school, whenever a boyfriend and I broke up (quite a few of them, too), I reached for my Mariah Carey cassette tapes and poured my tears into them, belting out each song until my voice nearly disappeared. I forgot about my tapes until my divorce a year and a half ago. After I signed the papers, I went home, pulled out my old boombox, tossed in my old tape, and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. My perm long gone, and a prayer couldn't fit me into a catsuit anymore, but the tape did the one thing I counted on it for — it healed me.

Now, I stand in the entrance of Skate Paradise, my best friend Sandra at my side, ready to make a fool out of myself. "I can't believe you talked me into this." I grip my rainbow skates, complete with a hot pink stomper, by the laces. The chances of finding my old skates was slim, but with luck on my side, they showed up in the first box I looked.

"This will be so much fun!" Sandra pops her gum as though we've stepped right back into 1992. All that's missing is her curly hair and bangs sprayed so much a tornado couldn't move them out of place. "Besides, it's for a good cause."

She's right. Breast cancer research is important to Sandra, having lost her mother at a young age. I want to be a good friend like she was for me after my divorce. I hope she doesn't expect me to stay all night, though. An all-night skate. The last time I survived one of those it was 1992. Most of us stayed up until almost five in the morning before passing out on couches with our skates on. Now, as I approach my fortieth birthday, I'll be lucky to be awake past one, and I'm being generous. I haven't been on skates since I was seventeen. I hope it's like riding a bike.

We step inside and already the music is blaring. I recognize C & C Music Factory right away. Sandra and I used to make up dance routines to "Gonna Make You Sweat", and I'm sure we skated to the song more than a few times. The rink is exactly as I remember it. A small arcade greets us to the left, and the odor of burnt popcorn and stained upholstery fills the air. Ahead and to the right is the counter pimple-faced David Schmitt used to hand out the tattered brown skates until those of us like me and Sandra invested in our own. Beyond that, the DJ booth, hidden behind carpeted walls and usually a line of girls, overlooks the circle.

My ex-husband, Tony, used to spin at the rink, and that's how we met. Sandra and I came every weekend to stalk him. Finally, one night, we hooked up and became inseparable. After a breakup, we met years later at a wedding he deejayed, and eventually got married. After almost fifteen years of marriage, he never stopped spinning. The only thing spinning ever brought to our lives was countless affairs for him. What I thought one day would bring me happiness instead brought me pain, and the loss of half my assets, thanks to Wisconsin law.

"Angie, you okay?" Sandra touches my shoulder.

I shake myself from my trance. "Yeah. I'm fine. Let's check in and see how long until I fall flat on my ass."

"Care to make a wager on that?"

I follow Sandra to the check-in counter. We plop our skates on the formica, and I give the check in guy our names. "How much?" I tuck my dark hair, now graced with slivers of silver, behind my ear.

We take our shoes off and hand them to the guy, as zit-covered and slinky as David Schmitt once was, and he gives us each a claim ticket. "Fifty bucks says I fall before you do."

"I'll take that bet." We sit on a velvety round ottoman, and I think this through. "No cheating now. I know you a little too well. It must be an honest-to-God fall."

She slips on her skates and starts to lace them. "When's the last time I didn't play by the rules?"

Sandra always tries to find a loophole. This goes all the way back to camp in sixth grade when she first tried to cheat at Rummy. "I may have an easier time naming off when you have played by the rules."

She jabs me in my arm. "Whatever. Anyway, I'm glad you decided to try this."

"I think maybe you wanted some time away from Al and the kids more than you wanted me to attend this event with you.

I finish lacing up my skates. They're tight around my ankles, but they still fit like a glove. I press the stopper to the ground. This thing is going to get a workout tonight.

Sandra ties a knot and then leans back onto the ottoman. "Al and Tony were best friends. He feels bad."

"He shouldn't. He didn't cheat on me." Yes, they were best friends. The key word being were. When Al found out about Tony's indiscretions, he threatened Tony to come clean, or he would tell me. After the divorce, Al wanted nothing to do with Tony. He felt lied to as well. I'm lucky I'm blessed with such awesome friends.

"Watching You" by Slave takes over the speakers, and its irony isn't lost on me. Tony always needed to know where I spent my time and with whom. He didn't trust me, and, as I found out, only because I couldn't trust him, though I did.

"We love you, Angie. We want you to be happy."

"I want to be happy, too." And I am. After I wept over a few of my favorite Mariah Carey songs, I was reborn. I don't need a boyfriend or a husband, but if Al and Sandra want to try and set me up, fine. I'll entertain it. My boxer, Astro, keeps me company. We enjoy meaningful conversations.

Sandra stands up, wobbles a bit, and catches herself. "Close one!" I roll my eyes because I'm pretty sure she didn't almost just fall. "Let's go!" She reaches her hand out to mine, and I stand up, letting her lead me onto the rink.

Sandra and I hold each other's hands for almost the first complete circle around. My legs are a little shaky, especially as I round the corners. We both laugh as we recall our times in high school when we used to do this.

Whitney Houston's "I Want to Dance With Somebody" takes over the music. My body wants to dance, like one often does when that song comes on. I'm snapping my fingers and singing along, drumming my hands on my hips as I skate. Sandra spins in a circle, swerving back and forth like she's seventeen again. Show off. Some younger kids (let's call them like we see them) give her a thumbs up sign, and I'm not letting her outshine me. We used to compete against each other in high school. Some things never change.

After we go around the next corner, I put one skate in front of the other, ready to twirl. I start to spin and I'm trying my best to stay balanced. Sandra realizes this and reaches out for me, but before I can grab onto her, I smack into the person skating past me. This person's arms wrap around me as we land on the hard floor. I think I just broke my ass.

"Are you okay?" A deep voice shouts into my ear.

The pain shooting through my butt and up my back is unlike any I've ever experienced before. I force myself out of the grip of this stranger. "I'm sure I'll be pretty bruised up. The only thing hurting more than my ass is my pride." Although I'm fifty bucks richer.

I try to stand up, but my skates get the best of me, and I almost fall again. This man stands up and grabs my arm. A wide smile rests on his face. He says something, but the music is so loud.

"What?" I yell as I lean closer to him.

"Don't be embarrassed." He enunciates each word.

Easy for him to say. He didn't just fall into the arms of a stranger and flat on his tailbone. He focuses on me, our eyes playing ping-pong. Even through the dim lighting, I see his hair is blonde. He doesn't own any distinguishable gray hairs like me. Either he dyes it, is really lucky, or he's much younger than I am. Judging by the wisdom in his face, my guess is he's lucky.

"I think I need to sit down. Preferably on something very cushiony." I think I need one of those donut things people who have hernias or who just popped out a baby use.

I wave to Sandra to keep skating while this man leads me to a bean bag chair.

"Are you serious?"

He crouches down and slams his fist into the seat a few times. "Sure as the sky is blue. Trust me."

I raise my eyebrow at him and imagine myself trying to get back up from this low "chair." He holds my arm as I sit down. My body sinks into the beans, reminding me of the waterbed I used to have. Those were the days. "Thanks. I'll be okay in a few minutes."

He slides a chair over from a table and sits. "Nope. I'll keep you company. My name is Owen."

"Angie." I shift my body until the beans are positioned perfectly, providing a little relief to my butt.

The music is slightly quieter back here, and we don't need to shout as loud. The rink is still in my view, and Sandra circles again, giving out a wave. "My friend owes me fifty bucks," I tell Owen.

"Why's that? For being the first to meet a handsome man at this event?"

"Pfft. You're quite cocky, aren't you?" He winks at me. "No. We bet who would be first to take a tumble. Neither of us have skated in over twenty years."

He flips his chair around so he can wrap his arms around the back while he talks to me. "Wow. Aren't you barely in your thirties?"

This guy thinks he's good. "Add a decade," I tell him, refusing to state my age out loud.

"Good, then. We're on the same wavelength."

I'm thankful to hear that because, frankly, I don't want to waste time on guys in their twenties. I may be divorced and want to sow some oats, but I'm not looking to rob anyone's cradle.

A few skaters roll past us. "I'm surprised so many people our age are skating," I say, trying my best not to cringe at the radiating pain that now only seems to come when I move.

Owen scratches his neck. "Our age? Speak for yourself. I'm a young forty-two."

"What qualifies as a young forty-two? Do you drive a little red convertible and rent a posh bachelor pad overlooking Lake Michigan?"

He wags his finger at me. "You think you've got me pegged, don't you? Red, yes, but it's a Camry, and try a small ranch in the burbs."

Great. This guy is married. Attractive, easy to talk to, and not making fun of me for falling on my ass, and he's married. "Ah. Does your wife drive the minivan?"

He drops his mouth open and slides his finger across his lip. "Actually, no. My wife passed away five years ago."

"Oh. I'm so sorry, Owen." Leave it to me to put my foot, or skate, in my mouth. I assumed because he enjoys life, he must be single and living it up, going through a mid-life crisis.

"You couldn't have known." He jumps up from the chair. "I'm hungry. How does a soft pretzel and a soda sound?"

"No beer?"

"Ah, a gal who likes beer. No problem."

Owen skates away, in a perfect line, to the concession stand. Sandra rolls in after him, shoving a fifty-dollar bill in my face. "Keep it." I tell her. "Totally worth the fall."

~~~

"Ten minutes in and you already meet someone. I told you this was a great idea!" Sandra keeps me company as Owen gets our concessions.

"Wait ... we're here for you," I remind her. "Not me."

"Sure, but it helps if single men are around."

I can't believe her, using her cause to get me out to meet a guy. "I'll skate for your mom tonight. I'm not leaving you to fend for yourself while I flirt with some guy I'll probably never see again." My butt is starting to feel better. Maybe after I eat the pretzel and down some alcohol, I'll be able to skate again.

Sandra rocks back and forth on her skates. "So what's this guy's name? What's his story?"

While my butt is feeling better, the chair itself is getting uncomfortable. I try to get up, but gravity (my ass) pulls me back. Sandra helps me up, and I slide over to a railing where I can hang on. "Thanks." I turn so my back is to the rail. "His name is Owen. A widower. I classified him as someone in the middle of an identity crisis, but I called it wrong."

"He's very attractive."

Sigh. He is. His blond hair is thick, and his hazel eyes are sweet. He's lacking facial hair, but by morning I'm sure some stubble will appear.

Since my divorce, I've eyed a few guys, but no one worth pursuing, or at least that I've wanted to. I met an occasional male acquaintance for coffee and even turned down a few offers for dates. I never imagined getting back into the dating game in my forties. My kids, which I have none of, are supposed to be getting ready for high school, and I should be going to baseball games and gymnastics meets. Tony and I decided not to have kids. His spinning kept him on the road. He couldn't devote the time. It wouldn't be fair, he told me.

In our marriage, at least he got that right. I'm grateful we didn't deal with a messy divorce and custody of kids. Instead, we split up our house, the dog, and an array of electronic devices. Lucky for me, Tony didn't want much. I almost believed him when he apologized for everything.

It doesn't matter. "Alive" from Pearl Jam takes its turn on the speakers, and it's the truth. Through our arguments, and trust me some got messy, I'm still alive, and honestly happier than ever.

"Here he comes," I tell Sandra. "You can stick around and meet him."

"Nope. I'll be fine. I put in a request for "You Outta Know." When that comes on, though, you better come out and join me."

"Deal." I push off the railing and almost lose my balance again.

"Angie!" Owen calls as he races to my side and grabs me. Sandra is already gone. "Stop acting like this is roller derby. Here's your pretzel and beer." He sets a tray on the table next to us.

I take a seat and thank him. He sits next to me so we can both watch those skating. "Look at that lady," he says. He points a woman. She's whizzing past everyone.

"Wow. I don't think I ever skated like that."

"Did you skate a lot as a teenager?"

I tear a piece of the pretzel off. Damn. He didn't get any cheese. "A ton. I actually met my ex-husband at a roller rink." I don't mention this one specifically.

"Oh. Was he a good skater?"

"He didn't really skate. He worked behind the booth." I point to the DJ, who switched over to Ace of Base. "I feel like I'm reliving my teen years with this music."

Owen swigs his beer. "I know. I love this. Nowadays all I hear is Justin Bieber or One Direction."

"Interesting music choice for a man in his forties."

He pings me in the rib. "I've got daughters. Two."

I got this guy way wrong. Never let me decide something on a first impression. "How old?"

"Twelve and nine. They keep me on my toes, that's for sure. I can't believe I'll have a teenager in a year." He sighs and looks to the ceiling. "How about you? Any little rascals?"

"Not unless my boxer counts."

"Sure. We'll count him."

"Her."

"Her."

We smile at each other, and I have a really great feeling about this.

~~~

"Sandra's mom passed away ten years ago from breast cancer. What brings you here?" I cross my legs over each other and lie back on my hands.

Owen shifts his weight, causing the beans to lodge into places in my body they shouldn't. I'm not sure how we fit two people on here, but somehow we managed.

"My friend actually organized the event."

"Oh?"

Owen works his way to a seated position, slides his knees in, and rests his hands on them. "She and my wife were the best of friends. When my wife passed away, she vowed to raise money for research every year, so she came up with this event."

"I didn't realize this is yearly. Why roller skating?"

"Why not? My wife was a kid at heart. This fits her personality."

"Is your friend here?" I glance around, even though I have no clue what she looks like.

"She and her staff are around."

"She has a staff?"

"She's an event planner and is great at her job."

He's gushing over her. I shouldn't be surprised. This is the classic boy falls in love with girl next door or best friend. I wonder if he sees it, if he even realizes.

"That's wonderful. What do you do?" Male model. Professional photographer. Masseuse. Phone sex operator. (Are those still around?) I'm sure whatever he does, it's fantastic.

"Landscaper. I'm outside all day. I love it. Even in the winter."

I'm picturing him in the sun, his shirt off, with his skin glistening in sweat. Damn. Too bad he's not available.

"I'm not a fan of the snow, but I can work from home, so I don't have to worry about driving in it. I'm all about the summer. Warm air, the beach, taking long walks." I tell him this, thinking a walk on the beach with him would be lovely.

"Ever gone rollerblading?"

A high-pitched laugh follows his question. "I don't think so. I can barely skate on four wheels."

"It's easy. I should take you some time."

Is he asking me out on a date? I'm hesitant to get involved with Owen. He's attractive, super nice, and his voice could lull me to sleep, but I've seen this before in movies and read it in plenty of books. We'll go on a few dates, I'll fall head over heels, and then he'll proclaim his love for his female best friend. I'm not going through that.

"Maybe." Non-committal. That's the best way to approach this.

The Backstreet Boys come on and he tries to take my hand. "Your butt must be doing better. Let's skate."

I don't offer my hand back, but he reaches down and grabs it anyway.

"Come on. Don't be shy. I promise I won't let you fall. And, if you do, I'll catch you again."

He smiles and I want to forget about the other lady in his life. It is just one skate with one song. "Fine. But you better not push me down, either."

"Why would I do that?"

The funny thing is, I'm talking about my heart.

~~~

He's holding my hand, pressing his palm against mine, and I'm somehow keeping my legs from shaking and tripping over myself. We're skating so fast the breeze is pulling my hair back. I'm like a pro again. I'm not stumbling, and I'm taking the turns without having to grip Owen's hand tighter, though I want to. When the song finishes, the DJ slows things down.

We keep skating, and now I put my other hand across my waist, and I'm covering his hand completely with mine. This is like high school all over again. I'm at a dance and smitten over a boy, and all the butterflies are flying around in my stomach. Except I'm almost forty, and I'm excited at the prospect of romance again. I'm smart enough not to read into the turns in my stomach. This is exciting and new. I'm not in love, as I thought with every boy in high school. I secretly hope I'm wrong about his friend.

The song ends and we roll right off the rink onto the multi-patterned carpet. Owen points to our bean bag chair. "It's still open," he says into my ear. "Let's go sit again."

We've declared ourselves old. Skating for two songs wore us out. We sit together again, and I'm so comfortable I feel we've known each other since high school.

"I'm surprised I don't remember you from high school." My school wasn't huge, and even if he graduated a few years ahead of me, the school was small enough to remember him.

"Parochial school. My entire life." He puts his arm around me. He's quick about it and not awkward like that first time as a teenager. He doesn't need to work up the courage and pretend to yawn. He just goes for it.

I rest my head on his shoulder. "I loved high school, but I'm glad to be an adult."

"Were you a cheerleader?"

"No. Far from it. I excelled in business classes, though."

"Horticulture for me. That's how I met Alyce."

I don't respond, uncertain how to discuss his wife. I can't imagine how difficult life has been for him and his daughters.

"It's been five years, Angie. I miss her. I'll always love her. My friend Rhonda, the one who organized this, she says it's time to be happy again. I love my girls and I do so much with them, but she's convinced me I need to take time for me."

Rhonda. She's the one who has been by his side. I sense a connection between me and Owen, and I don't think we'll probably see each other after this. It's probably for the better. He's here to support his late wife's cause, and I'm here for Sandra. Under different circumstances, maybe, but I can't help but feel as though I'm taking advantage of his vulnerability.

"Are you and Rhonda close?" I need an answer. This isn't going anywhere, but I'm curious.

"Very. She was Alyce's best friend. We're friends, though, that's all."

He senses my uneasiness, but I'm leery to trust his response. Most of the girls Tony slept with he considered "friends" as well. I never thought of myself as a jealous person before, but being scorned like I was, well, that can change someone.

"Angie?" He cocks his head at me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just ... I don't want to ..." I don't need to continue. We've known each other all of a few hours.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"No, tell me."

I inhale deeply and let go. "I'm having a great time. I'm afraid of liking you a little too much, and then I'll never see you again."

He stares at me. "Let's continue this evening together. Have fun."

Have fun. Let loose. See what happens. That's the Angie I used to know. I need to find her again.

~~~

"Favorite movie from the nineties."

We're sitting together on the bean bag, our skates clanking together. I haven't checked my phone recently, but it must be well after three in the morning. I don't know how I'm lasting this long. We've only skated to a few songs, and most of the time we've been chatting. Rhonda is far in the back of my mind. "I can lie and tell you it's Titanic, or I can tell the truth." I'm not sure I want to expose my favorite.

"Truth."

I shift my body so I'm on my right side and leaning against Owen. "Clueless."

"That movie with Alicia Silverstone?"

"I'll have you know it's based on a Jane Austen book."

"Very loosely, if at all."

"What about you?" He thinks he can tease me about my movie choices.

Owen turns to me, his eyes wide, and he's holding his breath. If I press his cheeks together, he'll probably explode. "Billy Madison," he squeaks out and starts laughing.

"And you're teasing me?"

"Okay ... favorite memory from high school."

This stops me. What's my favorite? I thought it was the day I met Tony, but now, it isn't anymore. I search my catalog of memories. It's not that there aren't any. I probably have too many to name one as an absolute favorite. Then, it hits me.

"Okay, promise you won't laugh?"

"I will not, can not, shall not," Owen replies as though he's Dr. Seuss.

"Sophomore year I entered a writing contest. I poured my heart and soul into my story. I managed to place fourth. I swore off writing forever. The next day, Sandra delivered me a mix tape of positive songs. She forced me to listen to every single song until I found my confidence again."

"Did it work?"

"Well, yes and no. I found a passion in interior decorating and built up my own company. Recently, I published a book on design."

"That's incredible!"

"I guess. I'm grateful for Sandra. She pulled me out of a slump."

"Is she the one you came with tonight?"

I realize Sandra last checked in a few hours ago. I skated with her when Alanis Morissette came on and one other time, but she kept insisting I hang out with Owen. She found a few ladies she takes Zumba with and spent the night skating with them.

"Yeah. She's passed out over there." I point to the other side of the room where she's sitting against a wall, her head resting on one of her friend's shoulders. "First night in a long time without the kids. I think she went as long as she could go."

By now the rink is sparse, and I count about twelve people skating to a slower song. I'm a little surprised I'm even awake, but I could talk to Owen forever. His voice soothes me and warms my entire body.

"Ever get a mix tape from a boyfriend?"

"You'd think, considering my ex is a DJ, but nope. Only from Sandra, and the ones I made myself. I remember sitting in my room with my boombox listening to the radio. When my favorite songs came on, I'd hit the record button as fast as I could."

He chuckles. "My sister used to do that. I went out and bought the cassettes. I didn't want to spend time waiting to hit record." He reaches his arm over and touches my shoulder. "I don't have time to wait."

I tingle everywhere and my heart beats hard against my chest. The last time the thought of kissing someone for the first time radiated tingles throughout my body I was sixteen years old. I feel sixteen again. "Then don't."

Owen's hand moves up to my neck and he cradles my head as I inch toward him. Our noses almost bump as his soft lips meet mine. We hold on for a few seconds, before we kiss again, his bottom lip landing flush below mine. This is new, refreshing, and perfect. Falling on my ass has never been such a great thing. We kiss and intertwine our fingers for a long time before I finally fall asleep on his chest, "Groove Is In The Heart" booming in the background.

~~~

"This is so relaxing," I say to Sandra as I stretch my legs out on the lounge chair. "Thanks for inviting me." The rollerskating event is a week behind us and not a word from Owen. I gave him my cell number and business card and hope for a text or call. Sandra insisted I take Friday off work. Her plan is to take me to the beach with her kids to unwind and get my mind off things.

"Of course! Besides, we won't be around the Fourth of July, so we can hang out today instead."

The fourth is a week away and Al, Sandra, and the kids are headed to Minnesota to visit Al's parents. Usually, I go to their house on the holiday and we drink beer, barbecue and watch fireworks. She's lucky enough to live close to where the town sets them off, so we don't even need to leave the house and deal with parking. A big project is due in a few weeks, so I figure I can do that instead. Work isn't work for me. I find it relaxing.

Sandra's girls play in the sand. They're getting so big. Tasha is already eleven and she's so excited she's wearing her first two-piece. It's bright red, and a tankini, because Sandra won't let her wear a straight up bikini. Can't say I blame her. Molly, who is nine, is busy scooping up sand and dumping it in a bucket.

"Do you think I made the wrong decision not having kids?" I often wonder if I missed out. Even though a more complicated divorce would have developed, having a child might have been good for me.

Sandra squirts sunscreen on her hand and rubs it onto her arms. "No. I think you made the right decision for you and Tony. You love Molly and Tasha, but I think you also love your freedom. I love my girls to death, and I wouldn't trade them for anything, but I always wanted to be a mom. You, well, you wanted to devote everything to your career."

"But you have a career, too." And boy does she. Sandra is a high-level executive at a law firm. She often works overtime, but she and Al created such a system that someone is always there with the girls. I admire their commitment to the kids and each other.

She scoots back in her chair. "Yes, I do. I always wanted kids and a career. The kids have always been a part of my plan. You always wanted to be like the fun aunt."

She's right. I made the right decision not having kids. Motherhood isn't for me.

"Now, a stepmother, well, maybe you'll do that one day."

She's talking about Owen, and I want to avoid discussing him today. The sun beats on my face, and I debate if more sunscreen is needed. As a teen, I tanned so well. Now, my body fries. "We'll see. If I ever get a phone call."

She lies back on the chair and covers her face with her sunhat. "He will. It hasn't even been a week."

"Yeah, but I told you about his friend Rhonda. I'm sure he realized she's the one for him. Besides, I spent one night with him, roller skating of all things. It's not like we had this love-at-first-sight connection or anything." I'm starting to sweat a little, but I love that. The hotter the better.

"You don't have to love him, but there's nothing wrong with enjoying his company. You're allowed to want to see him again."

I shake my head. "I don't know. I'm not falling into a relationship full of lies and an army of women again."

"An army of women?"

"Do you have a better way to describe it? Tony slept with a lot more roadies than I'm sure he admitted to, and I don't care to see the entire list." I'm finally to a point where bile doesn't form when I talk about his slew of women.

Sandra calls out to the girls to stay close to the shore, and then rolls over to her side to face me. "Look, you should give it go again. You can't expect that every single guy is a piece of shit and will cheat on you. Al's a good guy."

"He may be the only one left."

"Well, you can't have him, and I'm sure he's not. This Owen guy seems like one of the nice ones."

I rearrange myself on my towel so I'm lying on my stomach. "Tony did, too."

"Stop comparing everyone to Tony! He turned out to be a bad seed. Don't let his past indiscretions control your future. And if Owen says this lady is a friend, she probably is. She's his deceased wife's friend. I doubt they hooked up."

She's probably right. Mostly, though, because she usually is. I'm looking for a date, not a marriage. If I don't dive in, I don't know if I'll trust anyone again. "But what if he doesn't even call? I only gave him my information."

"Then he doesn't. But he will."

"I don't know how this works. I haven't dated since college."

"It's like riding a bike."

Much like roller skating, I suppose, and the bruises on my ass that are finally almost healed, prove how true that is.

~~~

I arrive home after a long day at the beach, famished, and on the verge of heat exhaustion. We had so much fun splashing in the water and making sand castles. Owen left my mind for a majority of the day.

Astro greets me, jumping up and hugging me, slobbering a big wet kiss on my cheek. "Hey girl, miss me?" I finagle myself out of her grip and toss my keys on the counter. I need a drink.

The air from the refrigerator is cool against my skin. Maybe I'll take a cold shower after my beer. I pop it open and pull my legs up on the couch, Astro taking the seat next to me. She lays her head in my lap, so I reach down and give her a big kiss before I start petting her.

My beer is almost gone when the doorbell rings. Astro flies off the couch, her bark echoing through the halls. As I open the door, the FedEx truck is pulling away. Lying on the porch is a padded manilla envelope. I'm not expecting anything. I snatch it up and shut the door, glad to be back into the air conditioning.

"What do you think this is girl, huh?" I check the return address. O. Hale. Who the hell is O. Hale? I sit back on the couch and open up the package. Afraid O. Hale may be a disgruntled client, I turn the package over so whatever is inside can fall onto the couch.

The couch softens the blow of the black cassette tape that lands on it. A white sticker runs across the top. In blue pen the words "Roller Skating Mixtape" are written. I flip it over, and the other strip says, "Love, Owen."

My heart flutters as I pull the tape to my chest. How sweet of him. My phone dings and startles me. I grab it and read the text.

Just got the notification you got my package. Like it?

So now he texts me! Obviously he wanted to make me wait.

Yes. I'm very flattered. Thank you. I wait for a reply. I twirl the tape in my hand, curious what songs he chose for the mix.

I think you should wear your skates while you listen to it.

This guy is crazy! Obviously he doesn't remember me smacking right into him. I live alone — if I fell and hurt myself, who would help me? I realize something. How did you get my address?

You gave me your business card.

Yes, I'm well aware. My address isn't on that.

Did this guy hunt me down? Great. Owen's a stalker. I'll need to change my number and my locks. Did he find me on Facebook and see where I went to high school, and then contact my friends? Or did he look me up on the court system to see if any cases are filed against me? He'll only find one speeding ticket from two years ago. I toss the tape onto the table, a little creeped out.

I'm watching the bubble on my phone, waiting for his reply. Finally, a picture pops up. He's holding my business card next to his laptop screen, which is pulled up to the white pages. The old fashioned way. Well, kind of. Anytime my actual phone book comes, I recycle it. I suppose this is the next best thing. Whew. He's not a creep after all.

You would have been embarrassed if that wasn't me.

I took my chances. I have to take my girls to the store. Listen to the tape.

I sign off and bring out my dusty boombox. The last time I used it was for my Mariah Carey songs after my divorce. The cassette player clicks open and I gently put the tape in. I shut the door and press the fat, square play button.

I burst out laughing as "Gettin' Jiggy Wit It" spills out of the speakers. I don't know how he even made this tape, but I love it already. Astro is bouncing around the couch, and I start bobbing my head to the music. Before I know it, I'm upright and dancing. Miraculously, after all these years, I remember the words. My spaghetti strap falls down my shoulder as I dip.

After "Mambo No. 5" and the Spice Girls, I'm running low on breath. Lucky for me, a Savage Garden song, "Truly Madly Deeply" comes on, and I slow down a bit. I can't believe Owen did this for me. He truly is amazing.

~~~

I pull the laces tight, and I don't want to stand. Roller blades already feel much different than skates. "I don't know, Owen."

He puts his arm around my waist and leads me up with him. "Roller skates are like a bike with training wheels. Time to take them off, Angie."

Owen and I are spending the day together while his sister babysits his kids. I've met them, and they're wonderful. We've been dating now for two months, and he introduced me one night with dinner at his place. They're both sweet and very welcoming. I've spent time with them on a few occasions, but right now we're taking things slow.

Except for the skating part.

"Okay. I put together a playlist."

I wobble and take hold of his arm. "So while I'm graduating to big girl skates, you're upgrading to the twenty-first century." I've listened to the tape he made me at least fifty times since we started dating. I even met and become friends with Rhonda. I'm glad Sandra had an ulterior motive for us to attend the benefit. We helped raise money for a great cause, and I've moved on with my own life.

"Oh, no. I brought my Walkman." His eyes sparkle and he crinkles his nose.

"No, you didn't!" I'm not falling for it, though I wouldn't put it past him. I love his devotion to the nineties. We spend many nights watching movies from the decade and even playing board games with his girls like we did over those years.

The beach is busy today, with people walking, running, rollerblading, and kids riding scooters. I'm afraid of knocking into someone, or losing control and skating right off a dock into Lake Michigan. I'm not the best swimmer, either, so I can only imagine how that would go down, these heavy rollerblades on my feet.

"I do own an iPod Shuffle, but today I figured I can just play music off my phone."

Good. I love my cassette tapes, but it's so much easier with technology. I miss those years Owen and I love so much to revisit. These days, though, you'd be hard pressed to see me with my Mariah Carey perm. I'll settle for the grays.

"Are you ready?" Owen will wait for me if I'm not. He'll take our rollerblades off right now if I tell him no. I'm so lucky I found him, and I hope this lasts.

I take a deep breath as he laces his fingers with mine. These hands make me tingle, and fill my heart. After my divorce, I didn't think this was possible. I exhale and say "More than ever."

The End

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Up next: Early Bird Special

Early Bird Special

The frigid air sliced through my jacket and ripped across my chest. I scolded myself for not packing a thermos of hot chocolate. What sort of event planner forgot something like that? Me, that's who. Known to the community as Francie A. Spiller, The Planning Princess, I never overlooked the little things. Need a pen? Grab one - I stocked up on thirty. Spill wine on your favorite dress? I keep salt and a mini bottle of water in my purse. If someone needed it, The Planning Princess never failed.

Of course, standing in a line that wrapped around the building, I neglected to be the best at my job and keep myself up to par in these conditions. Twenty-degree weather with a cold wind whipping across my face made me unfocused. I bounced up and down, hoping the physical activity would do something to warm me up. My heart rate increased, and I could barely speak through the movement, but the fog of breath in front of my face reminded me the doors didn't open for another hour, and no amount of jumping would keep me warm. "How are you holding up, Dad?"

My parents always got to sit on the folding chairs. This year, all the stores changed their hours, and we didn't need to sit in line as long as in the past. The big day of the year always was Black Friday, but now, in an effort to bring in more sales, more stores opened ON Thanksgiving. My family was among those standing in line most of Thanksgiving Day waiting for the doors to open. Mom brought cold turkey she made the day before, Dad sneaked in beer, my brother, Teddy, picked up the store's Wi-Fi and tuned in to the first season of House of Cards, but I didn't bring a thing.

"Okay." He stretched his legs out. "I'm not sure how much longer I can do this." My dad was nearly sixty and no longer able to stand all day. Black Friday (or I guess now Thursday) became a family tradition before my brother and I were even born. Our parents held us in line as babies! We never sought after a particular item. Sure, we scoped out the ads, but normally we just bum rushed the store with the rest of the people as crazy as us, grabbing what seemed to be the biggest items. Since most of the stores now implemented a ticket process, we always needed to know what we wanted ahead of time if we planned on getting anything worth our time. My parents typically sold their big grabs on eBay or Craigslist, bringing in the largest profit they could. My brother without a doubt purchased a video game of some sort every single year for his own personal use, and I often came along for the family time. This year, though, I planned on nabbing a few toys for my best friend Lisa's three-year-old daughter. She obsessed over the movie Frozen, and stores advertised new toys for the holiday season.

In the line of over one hundred people, we managed to snag a spot close to the front. I hopped out of line a few times to determine the length of time until we entered the store once we began moving. My estimate came in at about fifteen people ahead of us, and getting to the front shouldn't take too long. Over my years of planning conferences, weddings, and even children's parties (did you know how many parents hired me to turn their kid's first birthday into one they saw on Pinterest?), I got pretty damn good at determining head count at a glance.

My parents and brother arrived about two hours before I did. The store opened at ten, and this Princess took advantage of her beauty sleep. If I was to look my best in public, I needed at least an hour to get ready after a solid eight hours of sleep. Even a sale on the top day planners couldn't pull me out of bed early. Every detail of the parties I planned rested comfortably in an app on my iPad, but every event began with scribbles in my everyday planner. I loved a strong, spiral bound book filled with monthly calendars, hourly appointment lines, and space for fun stickers and notes to amuse myself. Some people lusted after the latest, greatest technology. Hand me a leather Franklin planner and a pen I could click frantically as I paced a room with decoration ideas swirling through my mind, and call me happier than a gamer at a LAN party. Odd comparison, I know, but if you saw my brother's eyes light up at the mention of a Saturday night holed up in someone's basement playing Counter-Strike, you would understand the correlation.

I blew into my gloves and rubbed my hands together, as if that would do anything to heat my insides. Well aware it didn't do a thing, I still continued to do it.

"Francie, sweetheart, why don't you take my seat?" My mom pushed herself off the blue and white chair, tossing her blanket on the seat. Once she crossed her arms into a self-hug to warm herself, my dad stood.

"DeeDee, no. Francie can sit in my chair. You sit down now." My dad raced past Teddy, who didn't even acknowledge us with his headphones super glued to his ears.

Every day of my life I spent on my feet, sprinting around ballrooms and conference centers, hiking stairs and searching for grooms five-minutes before they were set to pledge their lifelong commitment. I once stood three feet away from a first-time keynote speaker for two hours with a bucket in case she threw up during her speech. Surely, I could handle another hour of this.

"Did anyone come out yet to hand out tickets?" I took his seat as he suggested.

"Yeah, but all the tickets were for things like tablets, which we don't need. They aren't giving them for those toys you came for, so it's just you against the crowd."

Great. I didn't plan on fighting crazy moms in line for a doll. Knowing I couldn't go home now and change out of my heeled boots into running shoes, I cursed myself for making the fashionable choice. I already pictured pushing my way through the front doors, trying my hardest not to be trampled, and instead tripping over my own feet.

"Really, Dad? You didn't want to try to get the new iPad and sell it online?" My parents liked to obtain the latest and greatest on Thanksgiving. They didn't always get them all, but they sure tried.

My mom zipped her jacket down and back up again, this time a tad further so she could stick her mouth behind the cloth. Through muffled words, she said, "Not this year. We're not after the big stuff this time."

She didn't make any sense. Ever since I remembered their focus was on the hottest items of the season. Before eBay and Craigslist existed, they headed to collectible shops and often received hundreds of dollars for what they brought in. The cash paid for yearly vacations and over the top birthday parties. The first time I helped my mom plan an itinerary for a vacation I vowed to become a party planner. If not for our crazy cold mornings after Thanksgiving, quite possibly I wouldn't be the success I am today.

My mind spinning with reasons they would abandon their traditional plans, I asked, "Why the sudden change, Mom? If you're going to stand in line, you might as well have something to show for it." Why someone would waste their day standing with hordes of people, who may quite possibly be insane, and fight through the crowds within the store and not walk out with a big item to give as a gift or to sell for profit was beyond me.

"Francie, as we get older we realize what the most important things are."

"I still don't get it." My toes started to freeze, my cheeks numb, and my eyes dry and moist at the same time, which I did not even realize was possible.

My brother still paid no attention to us. He turned off his show and moved onto this video games, bouncing up and down in his chair and high-fiving the air as he progressed a level. My gaming didn't go beyond Candy Crush. As I struggled to pass level 409, I certainly could appreciate his addiction to a game, but his intensity remained a mystery to me. When I crushed a candy, I didn't jump up and down or do somersaults. I never quite understood my brother and didn't think I ever would, considering I was in my thirties and still hadn't figured it out.

"It's wonderful having the extra money, but now that everyone's so much older, we don't go on yearly vacations anymore. You're always busy working and Teddy is doing whatever it is I guess he's doing." My mom nodded her head towards him and I sensed her hesitation to accept Teddy's quest to create the next bestselling video game. Five years ago, he quit his job to dedicate all his time to it. He ended up having to move back in with our parents and he spent most of his time in the basement playing video games. My mom called it "procrastination" and he referred to it as "research."

The wind picked up and took my breath away. I sucked in the freezing air, my lungs aching. "What the hell are we doing here then instead of sitting at home while Dad prepares to watch the football game and you and I cook up dinner?" The tradition was fun to start with when I was little. Standing in line with so many different people and playing card games while we waited in line seem to be an adventure in my younger years. Now I only wanted my fuzzy slippers, oversized Packers sweatshirt, and black leggings.

Dad rose from his chair as though coming out of a complicated yoga pose, one vertebrae at a time. He patted his hands on my shoulders. "We love spending the time out here with you kids. We always have. It's a tradition."

I groaned. "Maybe it's time to start a new one."

~~~

"Start a new what?"

The voice came from behind me and didn't belong to anyone in my family. I stayed in my chair as I searched around me for whomever jumped into my conversation with my parents. Suddenly, next to me stood a gentleman, average height, bundled in a bright red winter coat, black gloves on his hands, and a multi-colored mask covering his face, big eyes poking through the holes on top. Based on his barging into my conversation, I guessed a pretty big mouth rested behind the mask, too.

"Can I help you?" What interest did this stranger hold in a discussion I had with my parents?

"Francie, don't be rude." My dad loved to embarrass me in public and also scold me. I'm in my thirties, and my dad still threatened me with time-outs. Did I mention I owned my own house and didn't mooch off my parents like my brother? Thankfully my dad walked away, but unfortunately that left me with this bozo.

Strange-man-in-a-face-mask nodded at my dad as he walked away, like men often did. I didn't know why they even needed to acknowledge each other. "Francie? Interesting name for someone your age."

I leaped out of my chair, and wanted to yell "put 'em up" at this guy. "First you butt into my private conversation, then you insult my age? And my name?"

"Whoa." He put his hands against his chest. "Calm down. I wasn't trying to offend you."

I wished this guy would take his mask off and prove a pimply, immature teenager, or pre-pubescent child hid behind it, because he already worked every nerve in my body. "I'm pretty sure you did. What is it that you need?"

He slouched over as he laughed from his belly. "What is it that I need? It's Thanksgiving, Francie! Cheer up!"

This guy spoke to me as though a friendship existed between us, and for many years at that. Don't get me wrong, it was very nice he remembered my name, but I didn't barge into his house on a holiday and start asking twenty questions. "I'm trying to enjoy Thanksgiving with my parents and brother here. You're kind of interrupting that."

Masked man eyeballed each of my family members - my dad, now resting his eyes; my mom, now covered from her neck down in a snuggie, reading a book; and, my far from involved brother Teddy, who only stopped moving his hands on his gaming device long enough to wipe his nose with his jacket arm. "Those people over there? The ones you're not even talking to?"

Ugh! My face, no longer pink from the wicked wind and cold temperature, became a deeper shade of red by my annoyance with this character. "I'm not sure who you are or what gives you the right to jump into my conversation I was having, but it's time you leave." In my career, I've dealt with party crashers, and this jerk was no different than any one of those. This wasn't an invite only event, but the ten by four area my family occupied was.

"Wow. Dumped so fast! You're hard to please!"

I took a deep breath, the inside of my nose freezing to ice as I did so. "Look, pal, you don't even know me. Move it along."

He scratched the top of his mask with his gloved hand. "Okay, okay. I sense I'm not wanted here. I'll let you get back to your air quotes conversation."

"Did you just say air quotes instead of actually making them?"

"Yeah. My gloves are too tight to bend my fingers that way."

My lips curved slightly as I motioned him to keep moving.

"Wait! Wait!" He backed up and caught the attention of the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, Francie knows how to smile!"

As the crowd cheered and their eyes focused on me, my insides heated up and started to boil. Certain moments in my job invited stares. When someone gave a presentation and something didn't work with their setup, I dropped what I was doing and assisted, resulting in a room full of people watching my every move until everything was up and running again. The one time a real emergency presented itself (small kitchen fire), I stood in front of the room, rose my voice as loud as it could go and ushered everyone outside. There. Attention on me. This, though, irked me. Whoever this clown was didn't know me from Adam, and I didn't appreciate the embarrassment. The tiny smile I provided quickly transformed into pursed lips and chipmunk cheeks. "Please. Leave. Now." I didn't even open my mouth to say the words.

"I guess I'm not wanted here," he said as he twisted his fist by his eye in a fake attempt to cry. "Enjoy the rest of your stay in line, Francie, and have a wonderful Thanksgiving."

The man remained planted in front of me for a few more seconds, which felt like a few minutes of complete discomfort. A sigh of relief overcame me as he turned to walk away, but he didn't walk behind me. He shoved his hands in his coat pocket and stepped in front of me. What did this jerk think he was doing?

"Excuse me!"

Ski mask man stopped and turned. "Yes?" He drew out the word and deepened his voice.

"What? You're line skipping?" I raised my voice to alert the people around us. No one liked a line skipper. "Get to the back of the line."

A few people booed him, and my brother joined me. "What's up, sis?"

"Nice of you to take your headphones off long enough to join us, Teddy. This Neanderthal is trying to skip in line."

My brother didn't fight all my battles. I mean, let's be honest here. If you challenged him to an epic game of Super Mario Bros. or The Legend of Zelda, he'd kick your ass so hard you'd only want to play solitaire the rest of your life. But, for the right battles, his passion was unmatched, and he took his pent up anger from whatever video game he happened to be playing and exploded in rage. Not superhero, pick someone up and fling him into next week rage, but enough anger to get someone to back off.

"Francie, he's not jumping ahead in line."

"Yes, he is. If you took your headphones off long enough to listen to anything going on around you, you'd see that's what's going on." I always supported Teddy with his dream to develop video games, but I swore the walls could come down around him and he wouldn't notice. My job required my eyes to be everywhere. One rest of my heavy eyelids and a party could spiral into a nightmare. Teddy spent most of his time alone, hands to the keyboard or eyes and ears on the computer.

"You're going there, huh? Well, fine." He pulled his headphones back over his head. "But just so you know, he really isn't cutting."

Teddy left in a huff, shaking his head as he took his seat again. How did he know what mask guy was doing? He sat in his chair, engulfed in his game, totally unaware of his surroundings.

Annoying guy moved on and chatted with the people in line ahead of me. I watched as he shook the hand of an older man, stepping back as he laughed. Then, he kept moving down the line. Finally, when he reached the front, he jumped on top of the base of a light pole, and  tore his mask off, exposing a man probably not much older than me, short black hair, now sticking straight up on top from his hat. I liked the way small curls formed at the tips. Wait. No, I didn't. This guy was a total goofball. I mean, who did that? Who had such a complex about himself he had to be such an attention grabber?

"Good morning, everyone, and Happy Thanksgiving!" He waved his hat in the air. "Thanks for coming out today and standing, or sitting, in line during this cold weather. We want this to be the best experience for everyone, so I ask you please keep an orderly line while entering the store."

The crowd began to form behind him, and I sunk my head as I realized this guy worked at the store. I couldn't feel like a bigger dumbass as my parents and brother stood in front of me and we started toward the door.

~~~

Chaos erupted around me the second we stepped over the metal threshold. Moms chased after their kids high on the prospect of so many new toys. Dads pushed their way toward electronics, anxious and determined to snatch up the best deal on tablets and televisions. My brother darted the way of the dads, my mom and dad marched toward the toys, and I stood there, dumbfounded, as strangers bumped into me, not shy of the curse words they used.

To my left, the customer service desk swarmed with people blasting complaints and swinging ad fliers in the air. The kid's clothing section on the opposite side was jam packed with people flipping through hangers so fast I didn't think they even saw what decorated each piece of clothing. The main aisle in front of me, which led to the sporting goods area in the back of the store, displayed pallets of sale items. I couldn't remember what I even stood in line for. Why did I devote time in my day to stand in a line waiting to buy something? The answer was, though I may not have been acting like it at the moment, I was one of the crazy people. At least in the past I had been.

"Excuse me, Francie, but I need you to move out of the way. You're kind of in the way of traffic. Feel free to zone out over in the paper products. I don't think there is a crowd over by paper plates and napkins."

I unlocked from my trance at the pat on my shoulder. Him again. "Why do you keep showing up?" Seriously.

He pointed to his chest, revealing a white name tag with red writing that said "Shane" in block letters. "I work here."

So, ski mask guy had a name. Underneath his name it stated Assistant Manager. "Sorry. I forgot. But, are you stalking me or something? First, you're outside giving me a hard time and now you're pushing me out of the aisle."

Shane lifted his finger up. "My rebuttal. First, I don't think I gave you a hard time. I was only interacting with the shoppers, which, by the way, is my job. Second, I'm pushing you out of the main walkway. You're making it a tad difficult for everyone to get past you and do their shopping." He took me by the arm and tugged me toward the clothing section.

"Excuse me." I pushed his arm away from me. "I would prefer you don't touch me."

"Oh, sorry, Miss. Do I repulse you?"

I clutched my purse as he stared back at me. His eyes didn't catch me before through the slits in his mask like they did now. Tiny flecks of gold burst through the green, like freshly turned leaves on an autumn day. Dark brows rested above, a gentle bristle of hair surrounding his face and above his lips. When he smiled, his cheeks puffed up and his eyes sparkled even more, if that were possible. "I don't know you, so I would rather you refrain from touching me."

He took a step back and put his hands up in surrender. "Is there anything I can help you find?"

Finally, he could stop annoying me and assist me. Except now that he asked the question, I had no idea what I needed. What had I stood in line for? As he waited for my reply, obviously needing to get back to work, I couldn't find the words.

"Okay. If you figure it out, either find me, or any other associate in the store can assist you."

My phone vibrated in my purse, so I snatched it out as Shane began to fade into the distance. A glance revealed a text from my friend Lisa asking how I made out at the sale. Shoot! "Frozen!" I yelled toward Shane.

He stopped, turned, and shouted, "Do you mean freeze?"

Panicking, I tossed my phone back into my purse and headed quickly for him, but not so quick to seem eager. "No. Frozen. I'm here for some new Frozen toys. They were in the ad."

"Ah. Of course, Frozen. Every little girl, and grown up girl's, favorite movie."

What? "No, no. It's for my friend's daughter. I kind of intended to pick up some of these toys for Christmas." I had never seen the movie. Lisa's daughter played it on the television many times when I visited, but I never actually sat and watched it.

"Kind of?"

Within seconds, Shane changed from a man I didn't mind talking to back to the irritating guy in the mask. "Fine. I came to get Frozen toys."

He laughed, and his eyes squinted as he did so. "Um, okay. I can show you where to find those, but I bet they're already gone."

Of course they are. I spent ten minutes standing in one spot staring at everyone around me as they scooped up all the deals. The minutes I spent reflecting on the reasoning I had for wasting my day shopping cost me what I came for. I never promised Lisa I would get the toys, but I hadn't really tried, either. "I have to look anyway. My friend won't forgive me if I didn't even look."

Shane waved me along with him and we squeezed between displays and groups of people as we headed toward the toy area. "What's your friend doing today that she couldn't come get these toys for her daughter?"

Five feet ahead of me, Shane maneuvered around the aisles like a pro. I picked up my pace to stay close, and hear him better. "Well, she's..." Wait a minute. What was she doing? Why did I tell her I would come and get the toys for her? Every year she went to her dad and step mom's house with her husband and daughter. While her step mom made a turkey with all the classic sides, her dad and husband watched football, her daughter colored, and she curled up in the corner with a book. She asked me to pick up the toys for her, but, really, she wasn't doing much either that she couldn't have gone herself.

"Let me guess," Shane said as he stopped in front of an empty display of Frozen toys. "Your friend is enjoying her Thanksgiving with her family, while you're out beating the crowds for something not even for you."

"What can I say? I'm a helpful person. I'm being a good friend."

"Or you're being taken advantage of, but, who am I to judge?"

"You're right. You shouldn't judge. You don't know me or my friend, so don't pretend you do." Dammit. How dare he question me. "Thanks for your help, Shane." I plucked my phone out and texted Lisa back that the store sold out already.

"Any time, Francie."

I stomped my foot on the ground like a two-year-old child as he walked away to help another customer. Why did I let this guy get to me?

~~~

Two hours later, all four of us arrived back home, my dad already napping on the couch, my brother sitting with his iPad playing some game, and my mom preparing turkey sandwiches for a snack. Yes, we probably would be eating turkey sandwiches for a week! I sat at the kitchen table in a sea of disappointment.

"I let Lisa down, Mom. I told her I would get those toys for Abby and I didn't."

My mom slapped bread onto the counter. She spread mayonnaise across each slice, carefully placing a few strips of turkey on each piece. When she finished decorating each one, she cut them in half, and placed them on a large platter. "If Lisa wanted these toys for Abby, she should consider going herself next time."

Huh. Shane hinted around to the same sort of thing. Was it wrong I went for her? I mean, I offered. My life revolved around other people and doing things for them. Twas the life of a party planner! I aim to please, and I'm not happy until my customer is happy. Of course, Lisa wasn't a customer. She was a friend. "Mom, do you think Lisa takes advantage of me?"

She pulled a plate out of the cabinet and put one of the sandwiches on it, sliding it in front of me. "I don't think she means to, if she does. You try so hard to make everyone happy,  so you don't often say no, when sometimes you should." She tore a piece of the sandwich off and popped it in her mouth. "However, I think sometimes you don't say yes when you should, too."

"What does that mean?" The whole statement seemed a little contradictory to me. How could I not say no often enough, but at the same time, neglect saying yes?

Teddy hopped into the room and slapped me on the back.

"Ow!"

"That didn't hurt."

"Like hell it didn't, Teddy." I reached my arm back around to massage the area. I swore as my brother and I got older, the harder it was for us to get along. As kids we fought plenty, but our arguments as adults were on an entirely new level.

"And Mom's referring to your boyfriend."

"What boyfriend?"

"Exactly."

My last date happened around six months ago. I met Jim while planning a birthday party for his brother, and we got along great. He asked me out, I said yes, the usual. He took me to a movie - I can't even remember which one anymore - and after we went for a bite to eat. When the check came, he slid the paper over to me. The paper moved back and forth between us before he finally told me he thought I would expense it. I never saw him again (and he never called either), and I avoided dating ever since.

"My job keeps me too busy to date. Who's asked me out lately, anyway?" Nobody. I flew under the radar most times. Even if I dressed in my best outfit, flattened my much too curly hair, and toned down my normally bright makeup, most guys strutted right past me. I liked to think my confidence turned them away, not my looks.

"What about the gentleman at the store today?" My mom offered some encouragement.

"What? That Shane guy? No, thank you. He's rude and obnoxious." And funny. And cute. And employed.

My brother filled a plate. "I think he was hitting on you."

"He wasn't hitting on me. Please." If he were, would I know the difference? I mean, he did drive me nuts, but I couldn't get those eyes out of my mind. Even at my own expense, he made me laugh. No. Absolutely not.

"I agree with your brother."

My mom didn't agree with Teddy on anything, and this she chose to side with him on. I didn't need them butting in on my love(less) life. So what if at almost thirty-one I had yet to maintain a long relationship. People (my parents) didn't get on Teddy's case. Yeah, okay, he dated a girl for about four months one time, but he lived in my parents' basement with no future love prospects after that short romance fell apart. I didn't see anyone up in his business about meeting someone. At least I kept a full-time job making decent money and people in the community knew my name, and for a positive reason. It took me years to build up my reputation as Francie A. Spiller, The Planning Princess, and maybe a relationship would just get in the way of my very important job.

"Come on, guys. Leave me alone. It's Thanksgiving. Let me be thankful I only have to worry about buying presents for this little crowd of people here, and my arguments can be kept at a minimum." Not dating anyone did present its benefits. I need only be concerned about myself, and was free to move about however I pleased.

"What's all the commotion in here?" My dad hiked up his jeans as he entered the room. "I'm trying to take a nap."

"Dear, you're always napping." My mom loved to tease him about how much he slept. I swore sometimes my dad forgot his age and thought he was still a teenager. He never wanted to roll out of bed until mid-morning on the weekend, and by that time, my mom cleaned the entire house, did her grocery shopping, and read half a book. Thanksgiving morning seemed to be the only day he forced himself up early anymore on a day off, and probably because he could come home and nap all afternoon.

My dad sat at the table with me while my mom prepared a plate for him. The fact she did all that for him might be sweet, but I wondered if my dad even knew how to make his own sandwich. Did he even know where to find the knives? Plates? He relied on my mom so much. Was making lunch for him every day of his life part of their wedding vows?

"We're talking about how Francie doesn't have a boyfriend," my brother filled him in.

"Nor should she. She's one of those independent women I hear so much about these days."

"What do you mean, Dad?" My dad always was proud of my career path, and as my dad, I was sure he didn't want to rush marrying me off, but did that mean I should be exempt from love forever?

He cleared his throat. "You know, the women who focus on their careers and could care less about getting married. You don't need that, Francie. You've got yourself."

My family ate their turkey sandwiches, and my father's words began to sink in. Is this what people thought of me? Yeah, I spent a lot of time on my job. I loved my job. I helped people create an event for themselves or their loved ones they would never forget. When the fifty-year old woman jumped in surprise of her birthday party and her face glowed, it brought me joy. The time I assisted in a retirement party and the man's daughter he hadn't spoken with in years showed up, the excitement and appreciation spilled into my heart. And when the most gorgeous bride in the world entered the church, and her groom saw her for the first time in her flowing, white gown, and he didn't give a damn who witnessed him cry, I cried too. Would anyone ever cry for me at my wedding? Did everyone expect me to be alone?

"Okay, everyone, now's my favorite part of the day. What is everyone thankful for?" My brother and dad groaned as my mom tossed her hands up in the air in anticipation of everyone's responses. "I'll start. I'm thankful we got to spend the morning together and got away with a few good items." She looked at my dad. "You're next."

He dropped his head as he tried to think of a response. "I'm thankful for the nap I'll take later."

"Eugene! Dig a little deeper than that." My mom clearly didn't like his answer.

"Nope. That's what I'm thankful for. Teddy - your turn."

Teddy bit into his sandwich and took his time chewing. We all pressed him to get moving. We all hated this part, so the fact he wanted to draw it out irritated both me and my dad. "I'm thankful that ..."

"Come on, Teddy! Spit it out!" I prepared to bolt out of there. I didn't need this crap. I was ready to move on with my day. Who was I kidding? My day consisted of me, myself and I.

A smile spread on his face. "I'm thankful I sold my video game!" The pitch in his voice became a squeal.

"You what?" My chair squeaked as I shoved it back and jumped off. "When? How? Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

He accepted hugs from everyone, except a handshake from Dad. "Two days ago. I've been waiting until now to tell you."

Teddy worked for this moment for years. My brother, the one everyone thought buried himself in his computer with no future, sold something he worked so hard on. We didn't always get along, but that didn't make me any less proud.

"Does this mean you'll be getting a place of your own, son?" My dad didn't know how to be discreet.

"Yes, I'll be moving out as soon as I get the check."

I couldn't tell if my dad was more proud of Teddy for his accomplishment or that he finally planned on moving out. Deny it all he wanted, I saw a tear in his eye.

"Now you, Francie."

I couldn't top his news. According to my dad, I was this successful career woman. What could I be thankful for besides my job? I loved how I reached my goals, and my success came so easily to me. Every year we did this, I almost verbatim stated my thankfulness for my family and my career. Blah, blah, blah. My career was a big part of my life, and that was great, but what about the rest of me? The part of me that craved someone to share my life with? I locked that part away when I became so focused on a fulfilling career. I pushed my love life aside for the paycheck. Being part of a couple didn't take away my success. I could share my success with someone.

"Francie!" My mom tried to get my attention.

My mind wandered back to the store and Shane. What if my mom and Teddy were right? Maybe this guy did want to go out on a date. Perhaps the time came for me to forget about my last crappy date and go out on another one. But, what if I read him wrong? What if he wasn't hitting on me? He worked there - it was his job to be nice to the customers. But, I couldn't help but wonder if behind Shane's jokes and weird behavior, a nice, decent guy stood, and I would be the crazy one to bypass the chance? I wasn't thinking marriage here - just a date.

"Francie, honey, come on now." My dad urged me.

This year, I needed a new answer, and I had the perfect one. "I ... I'm thankful for my family pointing out I'm too focused on my career, and reminding me I want someone to make sandwiches for the rest of my life."

I probably confused them, but I didn't care. I excused myself, put on my jacket, and headed for the store.

~~~

Now that I stood in front of the entrance to the store, I doubted my decision to come. What was I even doing here? I didn't construct a plan, and I had no idea what to say. "Hi, I'm Francie, I haven't been on a real date in years, care to take me out?" I'm sure Shane wouldn't say yes to a bumbling idiot like me. I was Francie A. Spiller, dammit. I ran entire parties, and coordinated events for hundreds of people. There shouldn't be any reason for me not to be able to do this. Really, I couldn't even ask this guy a simple question? Why did my confidence fly out the window the moment my love life got involved?

Okay, the short plan consisted of me going in, finding him, and just feeling him out. Considering it was one of the biggest shopping days of the year, chances were he couldn't even talk to me. As assistant manager, he probably ran around all day putting out fires - angry customers, knocked-over displays, and employees who didn't know how to handle the chaotic day. Actually, now that I thought about it, his day closely mirrored the craziness of my work days. I inhaled the frigid air, a cloud of fog forming in front of my face. You can do this, Francie.

Once the automatic door opened, I stepped through, breathed through my nose, and let out a huge sigh. I couldn't believe I actually was doing this.

What a difference a few hours makes. Not too long ago, I could barely walk through the main area - of course, I caused most of the hold up - and now the area widened, free of the hustle and bustle of customers. All carts still vacant from their designated area, though, and the checkout lines boasted at least ten to fifteen customers deep each.

The store appeared less chaotic than earlier. I supposed most headed home by now to eat their turkey dinners. Glancing around, I scoped out the best place to start searching for Shane. I squinted my eyes to see through the spaces in the groups of people, not picking him out from the crowd. Any possibility of finding him required me to choose a starting point, so I headed toward the back corner of the store and figured I would work my way back to the front.

The corner of the store housed all the Christmas decorations, from trees and ornaments, to over-sized stockings and those huge Mickey Mouse snow globes people put in their front yards. Christmas decor came out earlier and earlier these days, this year already starting in October. I slowed my pace as I passed every decorated tree, from the one covered in purples and pinks from the top to the bottom, to the fake Douglas Fir filled with ornaments from every old time movie imaginable. The needles poked me gently as I grazed my hand down the branch.

"Careful."

A needle jabbed my hand as I jumped. I shook my hand to ease the pain, and, as I turned around, Shane stood there. He smiled, and reached out for me. I went to grab his hand, until I realized he only intended to point to my wound.

"Sorry. You okay?"

I pressed my other hand against where the needle pricked me, and the skin began to itch. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

We stared at each other, and I took in his fluttering eyes, dark hair, and imagined his scruff scratching me as he kissed me. When we first met, I didn't realize how cute he was. Of course, when I first met him outside, he was anything short of annoying.

"Can I help you find anything?"

"What?" I shook my head. Find anything? Did I come for something? "Oh!" Is this what people meant when they referred to being love struck? I mean, I wasn't in love, obviously, but my heart sure sped up. "Sorry. No."

"Back so soon, then? Did you forget something?"

Shoot. What the hell was I supposed to say? "Um ...." Right now I wanted to take every pine in that tree and stick myself with it. At least that would be less painful than this.

"Tell you what, Francie, when you think of what it is, come find me. I'll be over in toys."

He started to walk away, but I found myself calling out his name. "Shane!"

Think. Think. Think. He turned around and I blurted, "Got a second to chat?"

"Sure." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked the time. "I'm about due for a break. I really don't want to hang out in the store. I know it's cold, but do you want to head outside?"

I was so nervous I doubted the cold would even bother me. I followed him through the "restricted" double doors, a spark of danger igniting me as we entered the the territory. He led me through a small stocking area to a steel door leading outside. He snatched his jacket from a hook and tossed it on before we went out.

The air wasn't as bitter in the back of the building. The wind moved past us instead of against us, my hair only lightly grazing my face. The building overlooked more buildings, not providing much in the way of scenery. Shane would have to do. I was okay with that.

A bench sat against the the wall, and Shane motioned for me to take a seat. Even through my jeans the bench was freezing. I shoved my hands underneath my butt. "It's sure cold out." I stumbled over the words to begin a conversation, but at least it was a start.

Shane took a seat next to me, so close his knees almost touched mine. "It's only November. If you think this is cold, just wait."

The winter months weren't my favorite. The cold weather wasn't even the culprit. Okay, I wasn't a fan, but the winter months my business slowed down as well. Occasionally someone hired me for a holiday party, but my business boomed in the summer months. Weddings, graduations, people hired me for all their gatherings. My income decreased significantly between October and April. "I hate the winter."

"Really? I love it. I especially enjoy this time of year."

"You like you're working today? I can't believe stores are now opening on Thanksgiving."

He crossed his legs. "I don't mind. I don't have anything else going on."

"You don't?" My family and I may spend Thanksgiving (and the day after Thanksgiving) hitting up deals around town, but we still sat down for a meal together at some point in the day. How could he not have any plans?

Shane touched his finger to his chin. "I get that reaction a lot. Actually, we celebrate whenever we can. My mom is a nurse and often works the holidays. My dad is a cop, so, same deal. And I'm an only child."

My chance presented itself. "My brother Teddy and me always spend Thanksgiving with my parents. No girlfriend to spend the holiday with?" My throat closed up. Soon, I would probably pass out. Of course then maybe he'd give me mouth to mouth.

Shane rubbed his hands up and down his work pants and let out a small chuckle. "No. No girlfriend." This time he rubbed the scruff on his face. "What about you, Francie? Is there a special man in your life?"

Thank God the frigid air made my cheeks red already because my face flushed at the question. "Too busy. I'm a party planner. Busy, busy, busy."

"Francie, I need to ask. Is that a nickname for Francine or Francesca or something?"

Here we go. People always commented on my name. Over the years, it grew on me, and, in fact, I kind of love it now. But, my parents were crazy. "It's a tad embarrassing."

"I'm fine with you humiliating yourself." He laughed and I couldn't help but smile.

"Okay," I let out a breath. "Here goes. Are you familiar with the Cabbage Patch Kids?"

"Um, yeah."

His scrunched face told me all I needed to know. He had no idea where I was going with this. "Well, my parents always made sure to be in the front of the line on Black Friday. They named me after a 1983 Cabbage Patch Kid doll, Francie Anabel."

The clap of his hands echoed in the air. "The middle name, too?"

I nodded.

"I honestly love it, Francie. That's awesome."

"My brother Teddy is name after Teddy Ruxpin."

He covered his mouth and stomped his foot on the ground. "I'm sorry. I know it's embarrassing for you."

I broke into laughter. All these years the name made me self-conscious, but when I heard Shane's sincere laugh, I realized how funny the meaning behind it actually was. "I promise not to name any future children Strawberry Shortcake or Jem."

Shane checked his phone and I realized he should head back to work in a few minutes. If I didn't ask him now, I never would get the courage to do so. Tomorrow would come and I'd go on about my life and probably never run into Shane again, at which point he wouldn't even remember me. Now or never.

"Shane, the reason I wanted to talk to you."

"Oh, yeah! It's so much fun making fun of your name I completely forgot."

"Okay, this may come off as too straight forward, and forgive me if it is, but .... "

"But what?"

He cocked his head as he asked, his full attention directed at me. His hazel eyes stared into mine, and if a car crashed into the building, I thought he might not even notice. I needed to just blurt it out. Say the words. Not even think about it. "Did you want to go out sometime?"

As his eyes widened, my heart dropped to my feet. If I thought telling him my name was embarrassing, this topped the cake. This was why I never had a boyfriend or a date. Even if a guy asked me, I fumbled my words somehow and used work as an excuse. I hated the rejection, so tried everything to avoid it. I got up, reached into my purse and started searching for my keys. "Sorry. I'll go."

Shane jumped up. "Wait? Why? Francie, I'd love to go out with you sometime."

I clenched my purse against my chest and smiled, and he returned the grin. I had no idea if this would go anywhere, if even beyond a first date, but I took the initiative and asked. Finally, I did something for me, put myself first, and it paid off. I, Francie A. Spiller, had a date.

The End

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Up Next: The Right Equation

The Right Equation

Not one thing changed in the high school after fifteen years. Polk High's linoleum floors still scared me, the lockers taunted me, and the gym terrified me most. When the event invite popped up on my Facebook page, I initially ignored the notification. I wanted to click "No," refusing to attend my reunion, but my thoughts wandered to the few friends I lost touch with, those I didn't find online, and wanted to reconnect with. I contemplated the decision for an entire week before I clicked the big "Yes" button, overlooking the fact not only was it my fifteen year reunion with my class but a costume party. Coming up with a clever outfit always stopped me from attending costume parties, and now if I wanted to see anyone, I needed to force myself to come up with one, which I somehow managed to do with two days to spare.

I entered the gym in my costume, self-conscious as though I stood in only my bra and underwear. The committee did a wonderful job decorating the gym. Streamers fanned out from the center of the ceiling to every side of the room, a mixture of reds, yellows and oranges, gentle twinkling lights accenting each line. Round tables with white linen tablecloths rested underneath the lights, carved pumpkins as centerpieces. Throughout the gym, fake headstones with lame names like Al B. Dead and Ben ScaryMore sat alongside statues of zombies and witches. The reunion committee went all out with a fog machine rolling the white cloud across the dance floor and tables.

A quick scan of the room registered a few familiar faces - most I cared to forget. Tim Westfall, star quarterback, managed to squeeze his beer gut into his old uniform, ripping up the arms, and drawing cuts on his face. I ran my fingers through my hair as I recalled the numerous times on the bus he spit at me. Kristen Garrett pretended to be my friend for a week, before spilling some of my biggest secrets to all her friends. It didn't surprise me she came dressed in a tight black number with a tail. She stood next to Tim, flicking her head back in laughter at something he said, which I doubt was even funny. Disappointed I didn't recognize anyone I cared to catch up with, I found my name tag at the unmanned check-in desk and decided on a seat in the back.

The last reunion I attended, my ten-year, could be described as uncomfortable at best. I arrived, anxious to run into one person in particular, Will Odenberg, my study partner senior year. Nothing happened between us, as much as I wanted it to. We sat together in the library every day the entire year while I tutored him in Algebra and he helped me with science. After a long year of hitting the books, I managed a B in my course and I guided him to an A. Besides tutoring, we only exchanged a few words all four years of high school. I waited for Will to show up. He never did, and I never found out why because no one bothered to talk to me. Not a soul.

Even if Will didn't attend this soirée, I promised myself not to leave without talking to someone, as long as said person didn't tease me in high school for my love of numbers and my braces, though confronting those bullies did cross my mind. I made a decent salary because of those numbers, and my once crooked teeth were now straight and close to perfect as I could hope.

The music choices by the DJ in the opposite corner sucked, in my opinion. The speakers blared songs such as "Monster Mash" and the Addams Family theme song, or instrumental heavy metal. I didn't even realize that type of music existed. Still, I managed to find myself tapping my fingers and feet to the beat.

After two lame songs played, a familiar face who didn't torment me through my high school years caught my attention.

"Tammy!" I waved to my old home economics classmate as I approached her at the now occupied registration table. I couldn't forget the straight black hair of Jenny Wildes or huge brown eyes of Stacia Cheeler. I hated most of the popular clique Jenny and Stacia belonged to, but a few I remembered as decent people, those being two of them. Jenny stood out in her Elvira costume, right down to the cleavage spilling from her dress. Stacia's amber, braided hair fell over her shoulders, a successful Pocahontas. I offered only a smile, though, as I approached Tammy in her witch outfit.

Right away I noticed the name tag. "Tammy Reynolds? As in Matthew Reynolds?" All through high school, Tammy dated one boy exclusively, and it wasn't Matt. Eric Dixon and Tammy met their first day as freshman, and dated ever since. Upon graduation, when we parted ways, they were still dating. I didn't recall her ever exchanging two words with Matt in high school.

She pressed the tag against her black top. "Yep. We've been married nine years and have three beautiful daughters. I'm sorry...I can't place you."

Cue the embarrassment train because I was conductor. Tammy and I weren't best friends, but we weren't strangers either. Sure, we last saw each other fifteen years ago, but besides my now short hair and long-gone braces, I looked pretty much the same. "Penny Radcliffe. Home Ec?"

Tammy tipped her hat. "Penny? I didn't recognize you. I'm sorry. It's your costume. Who are you supposed to be?"

I forgot my costume made me a little hard to place, uncertain if it was intentional. I spray painted my hair a mix of white and gray, styling it so it almost stuck straight up, and fixed a bushy mustache above my lip. "I'm-"

"Albert Einstein," a male voice I'd remember anywhere said behind me.

I whipped around to see a dapper Will dressed in a smooth suit smiling at me.

"Will! You made it!" I went in for the hug, wrapping my arms around him, lifting up my toes so my head rested next to his as we embraced. His dark hair didn't show any shades of gray yet, and, most importantly, his eyes grabbed me like they did in high school. Will didn't have normal, run-of-the-mill eyes. No way. His eyes brought any woman to her knees. The color wasn't quite hazel, maybe more like a honey, and their transparency made them most beautiful. The light tone of the iris attracted me, and his smile lit me up inside. His black hair complimented his cream suit jacket, a sky blue tie around his neck. Obscuring the top of his hair, which I hoped still had a bounce to it, was a newsboy cap, completing his outfit. "You're Gatsby, aren't you?" I asked as I pulled away.

"The one and only, my lady," he pretended to work the charm as the character he portrayed. "You went for Albie, huh? Love the mustache."

I touched above my lip, making sure it stayed put. "Pretty sexy, don't you think?"

Will took a step back to survey the costume in its entirety. "Despite your lack of academia in any science field, I find the choice bold."

"Bold? I'm a math whiz, remember? Fits me perfectly in that respect. I thought you might comment about how I'm dressed as a man?" Not even sure why I put the thought into his head. I didn't want Will picturing a man when he looked at me.

"Never. You're too pretty to be a man." He tipped his hat to me, and my body temperature rose.

"Okay, Albert and Jay, break it up now. We've got a party to get to." I forgot Tammy even stood next to us.

"We'll meet you at table seven," I told Tammy. After she walked away, I found Will's name tag and handed it to him. "Are you waiting for anyone else?" I didn't notice a ring as he took the paper from me.

"Only some of my old crew. I'm stagging it tonight." His old crew meant Brian Jones and Marshall Yarbrough. Did going stag mean he had a wife, or a girlfriend, and was on his own for the night? I needed more detail than that. "How about you?"

"Me?" Duh. Of course he meant me. "I wasn't even planning on coming tonight. I went to the ten-year reunion and it bored me to tears."

"Why did you come, then?"

A smile spread across his face, and in my mind I said "You" while background music played "Hum-a-na, Hum-a-na," but instead I said something that couldn't have made me sound any lamer than I already was. "I didn't have anything other plans." Way to make myself still sound like the loser I was in high school. "Do you want to come sit with me and Tammy?"

He peeked behind me. "I see a few people I want to say hello to first. Catch up in a bit?"

I watched as Will walked away, kicking myself for such a high school reaction. Being back in this school was like nothing had changed.

~~~

Twenty minutes later, I sat at table seven with Tammy, Matt, and someone I didn't recognize, even with the name tag. Many of my high school years I spent thinking I was invisible, and never stopped to think maybe I missed noticing a few people, too. I said hello and played my senility off, but the woman, with the name tag Krissy Willis, offered no conversation, and didn't try too hard at her princess outfit, in only a long gown and tiara.

"So, Matt, what are you doing now? Tammy said you have three daughters."

Matt wore a dark brown pair of sweatpants, a matching sweatshirt, with a hat with yellow strings hanging out of small cut out holes. "We do. Gladys, Vivienne, and Antoinette. They're five, three, and one, and a handful." He swiped through a few pictures on his phone. All three girls boasted blond hair, all long, except for Antoinette who's hair stood stick straight. "I'm a stay at home dad."

Wow. I knew plenty of stay at home moms, and did taxes for a lot of those moms who sold things like Mary Kay or Thirty-One to supplement income, but never met a man who stayed home with the kids. I secretly wondered if he'd whip out a Partylite business card, or better yet, Pure Romance. I imagined him with his surfer boy hair and broad body pulling out a dildo for housewives.

"What?" Matt said as I let out a snicker.

"Nothing. I think it's awesome. So, what is your costume, anyway?" I figured he couldn't be a turd, though he could pass for one with all the brown covering his body.

"A broom. Take it as Tammy's ride, or part of my stay-at-home accessories."

A little too much information, if you asked me. I'd rather think of Matt sweeping up the kitchen than Tammy riding him. Shiver. "How about you, Tammy?"

She hooked a chip with salsa. "Lawyer. Divorce. I actually handled Will's divorce."

"Oh?" There it was. At least there wasn't a wife. This still didn't mean a girlfriend didn't exist. Or a boyfriend? Nah. Could Tammy give me any information on it? Did a lawyer - client privilege exist for divorces? More than likely. Why the divorce? Did he leave her? Did one of them cheat? Gambling problem? Did Will sleep naked with only socks on and his ex couldn't handle it? Okay, my mind went off in a different direction than it should have. "How long since he got divorced?"

"Who, me? Four years." Will sneaked up behind me, and I pressed my hand to my chest as I jumped. "She got the house, I got the dog." He sat and straightened his tie. "Anything else I can answer for you?"

If his response was serious, yes, quite a few questions. I couldn't read his face, and he might have been telling me to screw off and stay out of his business. I stumbled to find the words, panicking I blew any chance to connect romantically with him. Thankful for the first time to the jocks who approached our table, I relaxed.

"Hey! Will! What's up, man? You didn't come last time. We had a blast!" The name tag on Zombie boy read Keith Barringer, and once I forced myself to remove the pale white makeup from his face, I could see it was, in fact, Keith. My heart leaped into my throat as I recalled our few interactions, all consisting of him referring to my braces and making sexual innuendos. No one made me feel more uncomfortable over the years than him.

Two other guys Will conversed with on a pretty regular basis in high school joined him. How many of these people did he still talk to? Did a lot of these past friendships withstand the test of time? My only real friend from high school was Melissa Hansen, and she stopped calling me after she got married on a whim in Vegas and gave birth to a baby girl only ten months after. I hoped I wouldn't run into her because, even though I considered her my best friend at the time, our lives split apart from each other, and we held no common interests.

"Sorry guys," Will answered as the men performed some sort of ritual handshake. "I had a few things going on around the last reunion and wasn't up to coming. I'm here now, though! Let's go grab a beer." He tapped my shoulder and promised to catch up with me later.

Troubles. God, I wish Will had a Facebook page. Finding out what sort of "trouble" he dealt with would be as easy as sifting through his timeline of the last five years. I stalked his name a few times over the years but eventually gave up a little over a year ago when I realized he'd never join the social network. In high school he had been social enough; he probably didn't need it. If I had found a page for him, I definitely would have friended him and tried to get together.

Tammy and Matt sat at the table, both on their phones, not speaking to me or each other. Was that what happened after three kids? So help me if Will were my husband, I'd jump him every night and never take my hands off him. I glanced around the room to see other couples acting the same, or the significant other stepping back as the high school buddies reminisced with one another.

A tight, black leather outfit caught my attention, red sandals burning my eyes. I moved my stare from the feet, up the slim legs, the body hugging top, and recognized one face I'd no sooner want to forget. Standing probably ten feet from me, her brown hair in curls flopping around her head, deep, crimson lipstick on her lips, was Mandy Sanders.

Mandy Sanders, my arch enemy. We hated each other. Every day, she strutted through the halls of Polk High as though she were the principal. She might as well have been the way she enforced her own rules and standards for the entire student body - and they followed. Mandy made my life a living hell. Okay, now that I look back on it, I allowed her to treat me like crap because I didn't think much of myself then. If put back in those situations today with my personality now, I would've given her a piece of my mind. Or my fist. Either way, shit would've gone down. The first years of high school, before I obtained a license and drove myself, she teased me relentlessly on the bus, and when I got on every morning, she made everyone scoot out, leaving me nowhere to sit. The damn bus driver didn't do a thing about it. Sophomore year I wanted to be on yearbook, and I was part of it, until she cut out the heads of some of the students freshman photos and put them on adult movie covers. I got kicked off yearbook and detention for a month, and even though later she was found out to be the culprit, she still got on homecoming court. Oh, and prom. Senior year I went with two other girls I considered friends. The theme was Under the Sea. Mandy, along with my two "friends" tossed a bucket of water on me, ruining my suede dress (it was the 90s!), and I never even glimpsed inside the gym.

The Halloween Class Reunion was the first time I saw the gym decorated for an event like this. The whole night would be ruined by Mandy Sanders. I wiped my hands against my trousers as they clammed up. I didn't notice I had them balled up in a fist. I wanted more than anything to waltz up to her and give her a piece of my mind, but the ethical side of me told me to maintain my composure and be civil.

"Whoa, Penny, you're seething at the mouth. You might want to take your mustache off before it catches fire. What's got you up in a bunch?" Tammy jabbed Matt in laughter.

I pointed to .... I guessed she was dressed as Sandy from Grease. Okay, she pulled it off. Toss a cigarette in her mouth, John Travolta on the other side, and she was a Pink Lady.

"Mandy? You two got issues with each other?" Matt's finger motioned between the two of us.

Tammy moved her plate and napkin aside, resting her elbows on the table. "Those two despised one other."

"Despised is putting it nicely." Good thing Tammy was a lawyer because the thoughts I had toward Mandy would land me in jail.

"Will should have married someone like you." My murderous visions slipped out of my mind for a moment as Tammy spoke. "Instead of a money-hungry snob like Mandy."

Her sentence repeated in my head as I attempted to make sense of what she just said. Will's ex-wife was Mandy? No way. Nice guys didn't commit their lives to jerks like Mandy Sanders. "He married that piece of trash?" Not the nicest choice of words but much better than the big B word taunting the tip of my tongue.

In a villainous manner, Tammy rubbed her hands together. "Sure did. Once he realized all she cared about was money, he filed for divorce. Yeah. She did get the house, like he said, but no alimony or anything, and since Will didn't make his money until well into the divorce proceedings, she walked away with barely a dime."

I didn't know what Will did to make him wealthy. I remembered our conversations in the library centered around Algebra and science, mostly, and rarely anything outside of those topics. Will played baseball - varsity - and the coach needed him to keep his grades up. Around graduation, I heard some college wanted him under full scholarship, but he turned the offer down. Since I didn't keep in contact with anyone from high school, and I didn't ask any of those I'd reconnected with online, Will's profession was completely unknown to me.

While I wanted to keep talking about Will, and find out more about his relationship with Mandy, I didn't feel right discussing him when he wasn't here to defend himself. I never considered myself a gossipy person. My high school reunion wasn't where I wanted to earn the title of Gossip Queen, and certainly not under any rumors concerning Mandy. I slapped my hands on the table as I stood up. "I'm getting a drink." I excused myself and gravitated to the beverage area. A green goo punch bowl and two-liter soda bottles renamed things like Devil's Delight and Bewitching Bubbles filled the table. Non-alcoholic beverages weren't going to suffice. I needed liquor. Shit, I'd settle for a beer. Didn't this place serve drinks? I spun around, glancing in every corner, and, finally, I spotted a makeshift bar with an older gentleman - an old teacher, perhaps? - handing out alcohol. That's where I was headed.

As if the beer would run out, I practically sprinted toward the bar. I smiled at a few people along the way, not caring to stop and chat until my blood alcohol level increased slightly. When I arrived, the man already had a beer ready to hand to me. I reached out for it, another grabbing it the same time another did.

~~~

My heart bounced in my throat, my insides twisted like a pretzel, as I saw the hand belonged to none other than Mandy. She cackled when she ripped the beer out of my grip. Maybe she laughed, I don't know, but the way I heard it, she cackled like a witch.

"Penny Radcliffe."

In all the years I imagined running into her, I always figured she would forget me. She made fun of me so much, I assumed I was a peon in her big, elaborate world of popularity. My name tag may have given it away, but I highly doubted so based on the pitiful tone she used with me. "I believe you took my beer."

Her cat eyes squinted at me while the corner of her mouth turned up. My pulse raced as she popped open the can and took a long drink. "This one?"

My nostrils flared as I huffed out my chest. It was only a beer, but really, it wasn't. All four years of high school consumed themselves in that little aluminum can. Every insult, prank, conniving laugh existed in that beverage, which Mandy threw in my face. After so many years had passed, I thought all the pettiness would be set aside, but clearly, I was mistaken. "Forget it," I said, defeated. "You're not worth my time."

"Excuse me?"

Damn. I said that out loud. "Mandy, sorry, I didn't mean that." Except I did. A thousand times over.

Beer splashed out of the can as she slammed it onto the bar. "Yeah, you did. I don't care. I never liked you." She eyed me up and down. "What? You're dressed as a boy? Seriously. You have the same problem now as you did in high school. You don't give a damn and not in the way I don't give a damn. Wow, your braces are off. That's about all you have going for you. I bet the mustache is real."

I forgot how to breathe, my head floating away from me. Everything I wanted to say to her disappeared with her hurtful words. In a single instant, I wanted to bury myself in the corner and sob, my sixteen-year-old self trying not to feel sorry for what I went through in the past. Mandy strutted away toward a group of girls whose names escaped me, but I recognized as part of her crew. The tears remained welled in my eyes, but I needed them to escape, so I did the only thing I could think to do. Just as though I again walked these halls every day, I bolted to the bathroom, flinging the swinging door open, racing into a stall and locking the door behind me. I wailed, the tears streaming down my face as I tried to calm myself, reminding me what my mom always told me. "Mandy only picks on you to make herself feel better." Her cruel words masked pain within herself.

The music blared from the gym into the bathroom, and I recognized the song playing as "Thriller." What an appropriate song for the evening. I pulled toilet paper off the roll and dabbed my eyes. I could get through tonight. Mandy Sanders wasn't running me out of my high school reunion. She won too many times in the past. Now, the opportunity to redeem myself stood in front of me. I tossed the paper into the toilet, just as everything went black, and a blood-curdling scream echoed from the hall.

~~~

Don't panic. The dark didn't terrify me completely, but I was much more comfortable with even a thread of light to guide me. If I walked along the side of the wall, I could find my way to the door. But the scream. What happened? What if someone was waiting outside the restroom door with an ax or even worse, Freddy Krueger with freshly sharpened nails? I could walk out of the bathroom, stumbling over dead bodies, sliced to pieces with his knife hands. Okay, an exaggeration. Paranoia. Either way, I couldn't stay here all night. Once I got out of here, I'd probably find the lights on in every room except the bathroom. The humming of the florescent light disappeared, the only noise my heavy breaths.

As though a monster waited on the other side, I inched the door open, and immediately punched out in front of me. Nothing but air. Good. I'd been in this bathroom dozens of times in the past, usually after an encounter with Mandy, so nothing changed. However, fifteen years had passed and with the blackness, I couldn't seem to remember which side the door was on. I kept my palms against the stalls as I took small steps to the left. The jacket I wore weighed heavier on me as the minutes moved on and my anxiousness increased. Sweat blanketed my armpits and now my thighs. My head throbbed at the same pace my heart did. Then I remembered my phone. I reached into the pocket and pulled it out. Of all the apps I downloaded, a flashlight wasn't one of them. I knew there was a button to press to use the camera light on my phone, but in all honesty, I sucked at remembering that kind of stuff. The light from the screen gave enough light to illuminate the area around me, so if I held the phone in front of me, getting out of the bathroom should be a snap.

The tile floor appeared as it had years ago, dirty, dark, and sticky. Holding the phone in front of me, I groaned as I realized I went the wrong damn way. My groan echoed through the bathroom as I started back the other way. I picked up the pace since I knew I was headed in the right direction. My step almost had a skip to it, knowing in a few seconds, I'd be out of the stuffy bathroom and hopefully into some light.

My clammy hand moved along the stalls again, until I slammed into the wall. Shit. I paid too much attention to the floor and not what was in front of me. Once I moved around the wall, freedom would be only a few steps away. I slithered around it, and stepped to the side until the door was in front of me. I pressed my ear to the door, not a sliver of noise outside. Utilizing the phone, I found the metal handle, pulled the door open to be greeted by more blackness.

Great. The whole school must've been out. Now, not only did I have to find my way back to the gym, or the main entrance to just get the hell out of the building, I was alone. No footsteps, no one's breathing but my own. The slight ringing in my ears drove me crazy. I tugged at my jacket and straightened my stance. If I acted as though I wasn't afraid, getting to the gym would be a snap. "Okay," I said out loud, comforting me a little to hear a voice, if even my own. "Here I go."

The gym couldn't be far. I sprinted to the bathroom, but still it didn't take me too long to get there. The halls of the school flashed into my mind, and the hallway I was in led straight to the gym, which would be on my left, directly opposite the main doors. Once I got there, I could decide if I wanted to stay or not. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye to Will, though, and he was the main reason I came. I planned on leaving tonight with his phone number.

I took a step forward, stopping with the echo. Was that my foot, or someone else's? "Hello?"

No one replied (thankfully), and I continued forward, my confident stance now a slouch as I stepped ahead again with the small light of my phone. My throat closed up as steps scurried past me. What the hell was that? A mouse? A person? I hugged myself, as though that would do anything, too freaked out to move. A small flash of light startled me, and I glanced around, hoping to see something, anything. The hall went black again. I didn't see anything, I moved forward again. Another little flash of light. I wasn't alone.

~~~

Blackness filled the hall once again. "What's going on?" I panicked. "Who are you?" The last place I wanted to spend my last moments was at my high school reunion, surrounded by people who mostly made my life a living hell, with the slight exception of a (very) few people. I twirled around, as if the motion promised to bring light to the area. Someone, or something, grabbed me. Three short, earth-shattering screams later, a hand clasped over my mouth.

"Shh, Penny. It's me, Will."

I took a hold of his arm, bunching the fabric of his suit in my hand. He removed his hand from my mouth and I let out a deep breath. "Will. Thank God. What's going on?"

"I'm not sure. Everything went black right before the DJ planned on making some announcement."

I hated I couldn't see his entire face, though his voice soothed me. I still held my grip on his arm, and my back against his chest. "What do we do?"

A small light flashed again, and then remained on. Will knew how to use his cell flashlight, at least.

"Oh, thank God." My head fell back against him. The point of his chin dug into my scalp, but I didn't care. "We'll just use your phone to get us to the front entrance and get the hell out of here."

"I wish." He turned the light off and we stood in the dark again. "Doors are locked and we need power to get them open."

"Hasn't anyone called 9-1-1 to help us?"

As he spoke his voice vibrated through my head. "Nah. If it lasts too long I'm sure someone will, but it's kind of fitting considering it's a Halloween reunion. The centerpieces in the gym all have tealights in them so that lights up the space. I'm not using the flashlight on my phone too much to save on battery."

Clank! Clank! Something - or someone - knocked against the lockers in the hall. The noise seemed distant and came from the direction we needed to go. Will must have put his phone back in his pocket because I still wouldn't let go of his arm, but he slid his other hand down my side to find my other hand, taking it in his. "Quiet," he whispered. "Let's go this way."

I didn't understand why we whispered. A blackout wasn't anything to be afraid of. A crazed serial killer? Different story. Did a psychopath from our graduating class plan this? I flipped through my mental yearbook and no one jumped out at me as off their rocker. Only Mandy, really, and she wasn't a psycho, just a jerk. Without arguing, though, I let Will lead us down the way I came. He slithered through the halls like a snake, familiar with the surroundings as though he never left the place.

"Where are we going?"

"Library," he indicated in a harsh whisper as he took a sharp right.

I didn't think going to the library would accomplish anything, but, I trusted Will and his instincts. Maybe when we arrived the entire Class of 1999 would be holed up in the library, snuggled together as we tried to figure out how to survive a zombie apocalypse, because I was certain that was the outcome of this blackout. I saved my questions for later, concerned only right now about getting to the library.

As a student at Polk High, I spent a lot of time in the library, especially with Will as we tutored each other. We always sat in the far east corner at the wooden table with only two chairs. No one could squeeze in at the table and interrupt our studying. We took our tutoring sessions seriously because he wanted his scholarship, and I wanted to keep my GPA. Science screwed with my average. While anything even remotely science related didn't interest me, I needed to pass the class to graduate, and I didn't want the blemish on my permanent record. I took school seriously from my first day of first grade until I walked across the stage at my college graduation. Our friendship never went beyond the library, except a wave here and there in the hall. Will was one of the nice ones. No matter how much someone picked on me - or anyone - he stepped in if he witnessed it. Mandy didn't appreciate a good guy. I wondered, still, how they ended up together.

He maneuvered through the library, the musty pages of decades-old books scenting the air. Immediately I recalled the crinkling of the plastic protectors on the books, how I ripped through a book a week, always having one in my backpack, anxious to return and move onto the next one. Since I became a CPA, work overtook my life, and I couldn't remember the last book I read cover to cover. Usually I came home from work, ate a late dinner, watched some television and headed to bed. Quite an active social life I kept.

"Ouch!" I slammed into a table, pain ricocheting through my thighs and hips.

"Sorry! Are you okay?"

Will let go of my hand and before I responded, he planted both his hands on my hips, pressing into a slow massage. I wanted to drop down to the floor and direct him to massage my entire body. God, I wanted him to keep going, but I doubted his touch was romantic in any way. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He scooted a chair out for me and guided me to sit down. A smidgen of light shone from the window. "Our old study spot," he said. "Right next to the window."

I turned my head slightly and looked out the window, the big, round moon providing light. Through the gentle glow, he didn't look as though he aged a bit. Blemish and scar free, his skin looked perfect. Here I was, thirty-one years old, and I still had zits. Those lips I wanted to kiss more than anything rested perfectly on his face, his upper lip much thinner than the bottom, a perfect crease in the middle, shaped like a heart. Over the years, he developed a slight wrinkle under his left cheekbone, but it didn't make him appear any older. Everything about Will equated to perfection.

"You remembered our table?" I said 'our table' as if it compared to having 'a song' or something. Far fetched, but enough to make me happy.

Will moved out of the moon's light and sat in the chair next to me. "Of course I remember."

I reminded my heart to keep beating at his words. The fact he recalled something from so long ago between us meant so much. "So, now what do we do? Are we safe?"

"Of course we're safe."

"I thought something crazy was going on out there. I heard a scream, and then you grabbed me like a serial killer is on the loose."

"It's just a power outage and startled some people. Others are pretending the school is haunted. I saw you run off before it happened and didn't want you to be alone."

All these years I assumed he didn't care about me. In high school, we simply tutored each other. He cared enough to seek me out, and be sure I was safe. "You don't?"

In the shadow I saw him wave his hands in front of his face. "Of course not. You're an old pal."

Oh. Pal. My excitement of the prospect of anything happening between us diminished with that one word. Pal, Friend. Buddy. Friend zoned! "Okay. Well, thanks."

"I don't know about you, but the last time I saw a power outage, it lasted for hours. We've got some catching up to do."

Hours alone with Will. The Will I crushed on through most of high school. The Will I searched for on Facebook, hoping to reconnect with. The Will who married Mandy Sanders. Of course, also, the same Will who divorced her. Did I want to torture myself with hours of conversation that would go nowhere? And why would he even want to sit with me? I noticed a glimmer of light in the distance. The complete opposite side of the room was where the emergency exit was located, the EXIT light still lit up. If Will really wanted to escape me, the emergency exit door still worked. We weren't trapped. Will knew that, too.

Not sure if Will could see my beaming smile in the dark, I replied, "Yeah, we do have some catching up to do."

~~~

Whispers from students and the hiss of the air conditioner or hum of the heater always created background noise in the library. With the power outage, only the gentle breathing between us during our almost nonstop conversation interrupted the dead silence.

"Tell me, what are you doing now? You always loved numbers."

We sat at the table using the moon as our lamp, our hands on each other's arms. As much as I wanted the gesture to be romantic, it wasn't. Will didn't want his battery to run out on his phone, so we sat in the dark. "I wouldn't say I love numbers."

Will squeezed my forearm. "Yes, you do. I'll never forget how much you pushed me to do well in Algebra. I've never seen anyone so excited about math before."

I didn't think it was possible to sound more like a nerd than when Will made that statement. "You needed the scholarship. I wanted to help. But to answer your question, I'm a CPA."

"I knew it!"

I planned on this going an entirely different way. Even after all these years, I still proved to be a complete dork. So what if I loved numbers? I didn't want to be a snobby gold digger like Mandy. Every aspect of my life showed my logical side. What about Will, though? Was he still a jock like in high school? "Whatever happened with baseball? The whole reason I tutored you was to get your grade up for scholarships. I heard you never even played in college. Did you go to college?"

He loosened his grip on my arm. "So what if I didn't? Does that make me any less of a person?"

"No. That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean then, Penny?"

I didn't know. It just came out that way. I spent my whole life being judged based on my academics, who was I to judge based on the same, or lack thereof? "In high school, you were a star. You loved the game."

"Still do. Look, I went to college, well, at least for the first year. That's when Mandy and I got together. I realized just because I loved baseball didn't mean I loved it enough to make it a career. My heart belonged somewhere else."

My thumb stroked his arm. "Where?" I swallowed so hard I almost choked. If this were a movie, right now he would declare his love to me.

"Writing."

"Writing?"

"Yes, writing. Why does everyone find that so hard to believe?"

Great. Who knew simply repeating a word would make me sound like such an ass? "No, no. I'm surprised, that's all." I thought my next sentence through. "I can't wait to read something you wrote."

"Really?"

Now he questioned me. "Yes. I can't wait."

"Next fall."

"Next fall, what?"

"That's when my book comes out. I signed the contract a few months ago."

"Incredible!" The money Tammy mentioned must have been from the sale of a book. I couldn't contain my excitement for Will and went to hug him, except I smacked my head right into his instead. "Ouch!" I set my hand on top of my head as if that would make a difference.

"Are you okay?"

Game changer. Will touched his palm to my cheek, turned around his hand and traced the side of my face with his fingertips. Every teenage fantasy ran through my mind as each womanly part of my body perked up. "Now I am."

I didn't need the lights on to predict what happened next. Even in the darkness, I closed my eyes as I leaned forward. I waited more than fifteen years for his lips to touch mine. This moment acted out in my mind many times before. In my dreams, it was the perfect kiss, usually outside with the sun beating down on us as we lay in the grass overlooking the Mill Pond. He'd crawl on top of me, and our lips would take over, tasting each other. I always assumed the reality would be an unfortunate incident where I would end up using too much tongue, or I'd have food in my teeth, and start giggling. Lucky for me, this fell somewhere in between, but either way, his smooth lips touched mine, only seconds passing before he slid his tongue into my mouth. I inhaled deeply as our tongues danced, and Will placed his hands on my back, pulling me closer to him. I wanted to stay like this forever.

"Ahhhh!" A shriek from behind me disconnected me from the kiss, sending me into a screaming fit myself. The lights turned on, and four faces stared at me, laughing. My high school reunion just placed me back to the worst times of my life.

~~~

"What the hell is your problem?" Will jumped out of the chair and lunged toward his friends, Keith, Brian, Marshall, and Matt.

"Dude, we were only trying to scare you. Sorry we interrupted whatever," Brian passed his finger between us, "whatever this is." He joined the other three in a high-five.

I wanted to crawl under the table, pull my knees into my chest, and rock back and forth until they all left. How humiliating! My bottom lip quivered as a tear fell down my cheek.

"Penny, I'm sorry about these guys."

"I'm sorry, too," I said. "I can't believe you would do this to me."

"What?" Will walked toward me, but I took a step back as well. "What are you talking about? Do what?"

All five guys stared at me, smirks across Keith, Brian and Marshall's face. Matt moved a string from his makeshift broom costume away from his now embarrassed face. "This." I pointed to each person, including Will. "We're in our thirties, guys. How can you still treat people like this?" I put up with this shit all through high school. I couldn't take a stand toward Mandy, but now I had an opportunity to stand up for myself. "I may not have been the most popular girl in school, but that's not a reason to make fun of me and play pranks on me, too. You're a bunch of jerks." My eyes met Will's, who frowned. "And you of all people. I thought that kiss meant something."

"It did!"

I marched toward the library exit now that I could see where to walk. "Save it for someone else, like Mandy."

"Whoa, man, she went there," I heard Marshall from behind me.

"Shut up." Fierceness controlled Will's voice. "Penny, stop."

No. I didn't take orders from anyone, especially someone with the audacity to play with my emotions. God, I was so foolish to hold onto feelings for someone for so long, especially someone I never stood a chance with, and now, I realized, it was better that way. The hallway all lit up again, I turned to my left, keeping my stride, never looking back.

"The kiss was real."

Bullshit. Keep going. Walk away.

"I wanted to kiss you since high school."

He shouted now, and as I increased my pace, his voice got further away. If he wanted me, he'd come after me. Like in the movies. He'd try harder. He wouldn't only yell down a vacant hall, hoping for me to turn around. I was better than that. Much better. I spent fifteen years getting over this place, yet I came back to my old high school as though I expected anything to change. The lockers were still large and overwhelming, the hallway desolate, the rancid smell of bullies and their better-than-thou attitudes filling the air. I hated this place. Hated. I reached the front doors, pushed on the handle, and stepped into the crisp air, my tears spilling out.

~~~

I didn't leave. I took off my jacket, held it in my hands, and rested against the brick wall. I shouldn't have been surprised. Cheers roared from gym, and I pictured the graduating class watching an infrared video that probably was mounted in the library to make fun of me. Some things never change, no matter how you want them to, or try to forget them. The second I hit the Accept button on the reunion Facebook page, my body felt toxic with regret. The time to get over my past, and myself, arrived tonight. Time to move on. Everyone fought demons, from drugs and alcohol to illness, and even self-pity. While I became a success in my own eyes, my past haunted me.

No. Moving on meant not running away. Face the fear. Hit things head on. That's what I needed to do.

As I bolted past the registration table, the Polk High chant repeated in unison in the gym. While I didn't exactly participate in anything in high school after my yearbook fiasco, I still contained plenty of school spirit and found myself saying the words while I ran. Upon entering the room, the chanting had subsided and all eyes focused on one person. Will.

I sneaked behind a zombie statue as I watched him in heated conversation with Mandy. I examined her as she stood in front of him, her hands on her hips, a smile spread across her face as he laid into her, for what I didn't know. The DJ played "Somebody's Watching Me" by Rockwell, and I think he intended the pun. A smirk painted Mandy's face. No matter what Will said to her, the words didn't phase her. In order to make out anything they said, I needed to get closer.

To my right, the fog machine began its flow of a dense white cloud across the gym floor. I quickly maneuvered my way over to the machine, but a large humming made it difficult to hear. Tammy and Matt parked themselves next to Will, but considering what happened, I didn't want to be near Matt. Oh well. If I wanted to catch what Will said, I had to suck it up and do it. When I approached them, Tammy started to say something. I pressed my finger to my mouth, listening intently to what Will said to Mandy.

"Of course I ran after her! You treated her like crap, exactly like you did in high school. We're not seventeen anymore."

Mandy maintained her smile. "Will, she hasn't changed. She's still a loser. Did you see what she's dressed as? A man? Why would she come dressed as a man? Only some sort of a freak would do that."

Will shook his head. "You realize why she's dressed like Albert Einstein, right?"

Mandy glanced at her clique watching the show. "I already told you. She's a freak."

"You don't have a clue, do you? I used to tutor her in science, and she helped me in math. She's dressed like that for me."

"What?" Tammy said loud enough for Will to hear. He turned and made eye contact with me as Tammy kept talking. "You dressed like that for Will? I don't understand."

Will locked his eyes with mine, and, in that moment, I realized he wasn't trying to make fun of me or humiliate me. The kiss between us was real. He came to this reunion for me, just as I did for him. Our time in the library was genuine, those lips upon mine meant to be there. "It doesn't matter," I said to Tammy as I stepped toward Will.

"Penny," Will took my hands in his. "I'm so glad you came tonight. I didn't come last time because Mandy and I were going through our divorce, but I wanted to. I've wanted to see you since graduation. I never thought you'd be interested in someone like me."

"Someone like you? What are you talking about?" I was the outcast all those years in school. I didn't fit in.

"I didn't go to college, I'm not this famous baseball player, and I suck at math." He laughed.

I laughed, too, and whispered into his ear. "I'm great with numbers." I led his hands around so they rested on my ass. I didn't care who saw. "I need some tutoring in anatomy."

Will dipped me and planted a kiss on my lips, the gym erupting into cheers. When we finally came up for air, Mandy disappeared, along with her minions.

"Your mustache tickles."

I touched my finger to the hair above my lip and laughed, yanking it off. "Sorry."

"You were spying on me," Will said as he pulled me into a hug.

"I actually came in here to give you a piece of my mind."

"If this is you giving me a piece of your mind, you can do it any time you'd like."

I planned on giving it to Will, plenty and often. My dreaded reunion turned out to be the best decision I made over the past year, and as Will kissed my forehead, I was certain things were going to change for the better. High school sucked - big time - and fear consumed me as I entered the building hours before. A few hours later, and I realized those four years of my life hadn't been wasted, and although my life moved on, now, it truly was beginning.

The End

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About the Author

Tracy's love of writing began at nine years old. She wrote stories about aliens at school, machines that did homework for you, and penguins. Now she pens books and short stories about romance. She loves to read a great book, whether it be romance or science fiction, or any genre in between, or pop popcorn and catch up on her favorite TV shows or movies. She's been known to crush a candy or two as well. Her first romance novel, Pieces of it All, released in May 2014 followed in December with Caching In, a romance mixed with the hobby of geocaching. She also has written several short stories.

Her books are for purchase at Amazon and are free to read via Kindle Unlimited.

Amazon Page: http://www.tracykrimmer.com/Amazon

Novels

CACHING IN (Pastime Pursuits Book)

Can a compass lead you to love?

Broken-hearted Ally Couper has had enough with her ridiculous life. Her job at the bank is going nowhere, and her love life might as well be non-existent.

Determined to try something new, Ally becomes absorbed in the world of geocaching. The high-tech driven scavenger hunt introduces her to Seth, and she realizes the game isn't the only thrilling part.

Ally's bad luck may finally be changing, until the past threatens to halt her future with Seth. Can they find happiness together, or is love the one cache Ally can't find?

JAY WALKING (Pastime Pursuits Book)

Chelsea Wyatt, a single mom trying to build a life for her and her son, is sick of the body she sees in the mirror. A daily diet of Cookie Crisp cereal is not doing wonders for her mood or her figure, and it's time for a change. Setting out to get fit, she commits herself to a daily walking plan, forcing herself to give up her all-sugar and carb diet, a difficult task at her donut obsessed job.

But her plan goes sideways when a stumble on the ice puts her in the arms of Jay, an attractive young man out on a run. They grab coffee together, and Chelsea finds herself thinking about him long after their short meeting. The thought of dating again hadn't crossed her mind in years, and she doesn't even know if Jay is available, or if he would be interested in her despite her unfit body.

Just when she has a handle on her new routine, her past catches up with her, throwing her blossoming relationship with Jay and the rest of her life into chaos. Can Chelsea hold onto the people she loves most, or will a wrong turn set her up for failure?

PIECES OF IT ALL

An alcoholic. A scarred man. A thief.

Harvey, a twenty-two-year-old high school drop-out arrives home, a brief stint in rehab behind him and ready to start his life again. Then he meets Beth and her innocence and her desire to have it all capture him completely.

A girl on the cusp of womanhood. Determined. A bright future.

Beth, a recent high school graduate among the top in her class, can't wait to get to college and fulfill her dreams. Then she meets Harvey and with his mysterious past, he stirs feelings in her she can't ignore.

The chemistry between them is unmistakable but Harvey doesn't trust easily and refuses to divulge his past to Beth though she wants to be a part of his future.

The pieces of their lives lie broken all around them, but can Harvey put his life back together and win Beth over before she begins her new life without him? And can Beth find the strength to become the woman she wants to be without sacrificing her integrity?

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A special thank you to all my readers and supporters. I hope you enjoyed these short stories.

Please consider leaving a review for each of the short stories:

Mixtapes & Rollerskates: http://mybook.to/tapesandskates

Early Bird Special: http://mybook.to/EBS

The Right Equation: http://mybook.to/TRE

Karan Eleni, I can't thank you enough for creating the 3-D Box Set cover for this anthology and always allowing me to bounce ideas off of you. You're a wonderful person and a great friend.