Page 6 of The Forever Experiment

Normally, those newsletters go straight into the trash folder, but the subject line of this one has me opening it immediately:ABA Winter Conference Keynote Speaker is Maya Atler.

Maya. Fucking. Atler.

The name rings through my head like a familiar wind, like the way it feels when I visit my parents back in Oregon and step out of my car, feeling the sea breeze on my face after too many months away. Though with Maya… It has been years.

She gave me one incredible night before swearing never again. We still met up in study group, but she ensured she kept a healthy distance, like she couldn’t trust herself around me, and as satisfying as it was to know, it still fucking stung.

By the time she was accepted to Harvard Law at the end of that year, we were nothing more than classmates again. I’ve checked in every so often throughout the years online, admiring her success from afar, but when I stumbled upon a Facebook update showcasing her engagement, I decided to quit her cold turkey. It didn’t matter that seven years had passed—I was still stuck on her.

I’ve dated on and off throughout the years, even attended the wedding of one of my exes, but for some reason, that didn’t burnnearly as bad as finding out Maya was going to marry another man.

I guess after two years of crushing on her and one night of having her, I figured that if she had wanted to be with someone, she’d have been with me. My efforts weren’t futile, and the allure wasn’t made up in my head. She had wanted me too—she just wanted a career more. That, I could understand. I wasn’t the problem. No, love itself had been the problem—the distraction she didn’t need—and that was something I could live with.

Finding out it was just me who wasn’t good enough after all—that hurt.

Still, I can’t stop myself from passively scrolling through the newsletter, stopping on the paragraph written about her and her accomplishment of being one of the youngest attorneys in the country to establish a firm, having a staff underneath her and an office in a fancy high rise in San Diego. I also can’t stop myself from noticing her last name remains Atler, and I hope the ring-absent photo of her in the newsletter is recent, because that would mean she may not be engaged after all. At least, not anymore.

She’s beautiful as ever, dressed impeccably in what is no doubt a designer suit, bright, wide-set smile on display. Her deep brown eyes are dark and glittering, her hair braided, whereas it had been straight the last time I’d seen her. Her lips are full, glittering with pink lip gloss that makes me reminisce about the way they tasted.

I’m so curious about her, how she ended up in San Diego when I knew she was originally from Chicago, attending college in Boise, law school in Boston. I’m not aware of any ties she has to California, though I wouldn’t blame her for moving down for the weather alone. I want to know if she feels as accomplished as she set out to be, or if there is a new, larger dream she’s working toward now. I want to ask what happened to her fiancé and ifshe’s single now. Most of all, I want to ask her if she ever thinks of me.

That last realization has me abruptly standing from my desk and striding out of my office, much to the confusion of my assistant, who was definitely in the middle of a sentence I wasn’t listening to.

I head down the hall toward my boss' office: Harvey Lewis. I rasp my knuckles on the door, waiting for permission to enter before I twist the knob and crack it open. “You busy?”

“If I was, I wouldn't have let you come in,” he says, clicking away at his computer screen before rolling back from his desk and looking at me.

“I won’t take up much time. I just wanted to ask if anyone from the firm is attending the ABA conference this year?”

Harvey shakes his head. “Not this year. I normally try to go, but with it being on Valentine’s Day? My wife would have my head.”

Shit. It’s on Valentine’s Day?

I hadn’t paid any attention to the dates when I was reading through that newsletter.

“How would you feel about me attending?”

He raises a brow at me. “I’d feel like you were looking for an excuse to fuck around in Vegas for two days, and I’m not about to have this firm looking like an embarrassment.”

I frown, though I suppose I kind of deserve it. I’m not known for being the most motivated individual. I am known, however, for being a complete fuck off.

“Honestly, I didn’t even realize it was happening in Vegas,” I say truthfully. “I just noticed that my undergrad study partner is the keynote speaker, and I’d love a chance to go support her. Plus…” I draw, quickly pulling out my phone and re-opening the email. “I was really intrigued by the…” My thumb flies across myscreen as I attempt to scan the newsletter while maintaining eye contact with my boss. “Corporate Sustainability workshop.”

“Right,” Harvey murmurs, turning back to his computer. I watch light flash across his eyes as he searches for something before raising them to me. “You’re telling me you were buddies with Maya Atler?”

“Oh, have you met her?”

He chuckles. “No, but I’ve heard of her. She’s impressive.”

“Incredibly.”

“What the hell was she doing hanging around you?”

I force a smile. “You know what? Why don’t I ask her at the conference?”

Harvey lets out a belly-deep laugh, leaning back in his chair again. “I don’t mind if you go, Easton, but I need you to actually try and get some benefit out of it, okay? Go to that damn sustainability…thing. Just don’t embarrass me.”

I lift my hand in a mock salute. “No problem, sir.”

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