Page 10 of Someday Not Soon

We both stand there, staring at each other with the discomfort of two socially adept teenagers.

“How are you? I heard you work at Lawson Hills Hospital now.”

“It’s great. Busy. But I love it.”

I realize that I’m not the only one giving the short, vague answers. He is too. It looks like we’ve learned our lesson. Seeing as the last time we let down our walls, we both hurt each other beyond repair.

A sense of self-consciousness washes over me as he meets my eyes in silence. If I knew I’d see him here I would have tried a little harder when I got ready this morning. My minimal makeup and bags piled full of genitalia themed decor are not how I envisioned this moment looking.

We share a tentative smile, both of us aware of the prolonged silence between us that’s heavy with our unspoken history. He’s yet another vivid reminder of the past walking back into my present.

“Here, let me help you with that.” He clears his throat and walks towards me, grabbing the bags out of my hands.

“Sure, thank you.” I follow him down the hall towards the expansive, open floor style family room. “What are you doing here so early anyways?”

“I was able to get the days off at the last minute. Thought it’d be nice to escape up here a little early to do my continuation credit work. Noah gave me the code.”

Sweet, innocent, horrible-at-communicating Noah. It all makes sense why Madi didn’t give me a heads up that her brother would already be here. Because her fiancé has the memory of a squirrel, and most likely forgot to tell her.

“But wait, where’s your car? There were no other vehicles out front.”

“I parked it in the garage.” He pauses before adding, “That way there would be enough room for everyone else to park.”

Even though it has been years, I know him and how much of a clean freak he is,especiallywhen it comes to his always-clean car.

Narrowing my eyes conspiratorially, I ask, “You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with door dings or bird poop?”

He looks over, clearly caught, and grinning broadly with that amused gleam on his face. “In my defense, seagull shit is the worst.”

Glancing down at the plastic bag crammed full of genitalia candy, his eyes grow wide, as he chokes out a cough, barely stifling a laugh. “Are those…dick-shaped lollipops?”

“Yep,” I reply, popping thepwith exaggerated cheer. “Why? Do you want one?”

He bites back a grin. “I’m all good. I wouldn’t want to interrupt whatever interesting plans you’ve got going on with these.”

“Just wait until you see the matching sign.” I playfully nudge his arm as I pass by, but the contact wipes the smileclean off his face. Instantly, a familiar charged energy fills the air, drawing my focus to every detail of him. His hair, so dark it’s nearly black. The clean, citrusy wood scent that surrounds him. His large hands, a cruel reminder of how goddamn good it felt when he used to explore every inch of me.

Pulling back to create distance between us, I remind myself of the boundary we can’t breach. I can’t allow myself to touch him, innocently or otherwise. Not after we crossed a line all those years ago. Not after he said he cared about me and then left without a damn word.

“I’m going to find a bedroom to put these down in. It was nice to see you.” I grab the bags back, leaving him standing in the middle of the room in my hurried escape. Though I’m too nervous to risk glancing back, I can feel the weight of his stare burning a trail along my skin as I make my way up the final set of stairs to the third floor. I have absolutely no clue if there are even any bedrooms up here. What I do know is I need to get the hell away from him. And fuck it, I’ll live off penis-shaped lollipops and tap water, and camp out up here for the remainder of the weekend if need be. If I can’t figure out how to function like a normal person around him, and can’t stop the sound of my own pulse in my ears every time I look at him.

I don’t see any other way around surviving this weekend in close proximity to the ghost of my past.

The first night of the Bach Bash is officially underway. Six groomsmen, six bridesmaids, and several other family and friends fill the entire upper half of the house. On the back deck, two barbecues are fired up in the outdoor patio kitchen, with two groomsmen holding beers nearby. Everyone makes small talk over mixed drinks and appetizers that are so tiny I could easily swallow them whole. The house is bustling as the conversations grow louder, entirely fueled by fancy carbs and booze.

Madi bounces from person to person, talking animatedly with a social energy I could never fathom. Her fiancé, Noah, is right by her side, looking at her like she’s a steak dinner and hanging on every word she says. They seem to be completely in tune to the other’s needs. If I ever find something even closely related to that, I’d feel lucky. But at this point, after countless failed relationships, I’ve given up on dating. Stephen was my final straw when it came to boyfriends, and now that he’s gone, too, I’ve officially sworn off all men.

For the rest of the afternoon, Jude and I maintained our distance, each staying on our respective floors of the house. It’s as if we can still read each other’s every thought—both of us upholding an unspoken agreement to avoid crossing paths until others arrived. At least now, we have the presence of about twenty or so people to act as buffers.

Currently, he’s stationed outside, talking to some of the guys as they grill kabobs. When I walk into the main room, our eyes meet through the glass of the sliding door. It takes every ounce of my control to keep my gaze from drifting to him time and time again. It’s a natural reactionwe’ve always had around each other. An acute awareness of the other’s presence that’s entirely impossible to ignore. Ten years hasn’t done a thing to fade that automatic response. My body demands to make him the center of my attention, even if my brain is screaming at me to stay far away.

Delaney, suddenly pops up behind me. “So, who’s on your mind for a potential bang? Should we rank them and see who makes the cut as the most acceptable suitor?”

She doesn’t make eye contact as she discreetly presses a napkin-wrapped spicy sausage roll into my palm, as if she is passing me a top secret national security document.

“I love drunk Delaney,” I tease.

“I know. You love me all the time though. Also, you still never answered my question. Who do you have your eye on? I’ve had at least three guys ask me if you’re single.”

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