Page 67 of Sounds Like Love

God, I was just thirsty.

Thirty-two seagulls, thirty-three. Thirty-four.

Too thirsty to be in the same room with him—

Thirty-fi—

I didn’t see the man until he was right in front of me, and by then I couldn’t stop before I slammed into him. “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Joni?” asked a familiar voice.

I looked up at the man I’d run into. “Van?”

He smiled down at me. He looked handsome in a gray T-shirt, running shorts, and tennis shoes, his hair perfectly swept back, sweat glistening on his brow. Everything on him was glistening, actually. With sweat, but glistening nonetheless.

My mouth went dry. He really had gottensomuch hotter in the nine years he’d been in Boston.

“Van, hi,” I greeted him nervously.

“Van?”Sasha asked.

I just ran into him.

“Ah …”His voice sounded strange.“I guess you’ll stop counting seagulls now.”

“You were really deep in thought there,” Van said. “I called your name a few times, but you didn’t hear me.”

“You did? Sorry. I just …” I waved my hand flippantly. “I was trying to distract myself.”

“And that’s why I run. Sort of makes everything level again. I like level,” he replied. He wiped his forehead with the back of his arm. His T-shirt was stretched tight across his broad shoulders. I didn’t remember them ever being so broad. Then again, he’d never been so fit when we were dating, either.

I wondered how much I’d changed to him, too.

The truth was, Van Erickson might’ve broken my heart when I was twenty-two, but I wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t.

We were high school friends turned college sweethearts. I thought I had my whole life planned out with him—a house, a white picket fence, all here in Vienna Shores. Then he told me he didn’t want to stay, that he wanted to see what else was out there—whoelse was out there—and then he left for Boston. I had been so mad at him, I thought, fuck it, if he’s going to chase his dreams, I will, too. So I ran away to LA, and I lived my dreams, and I couldn’t imagine that girl who wanted a white picket fence life anymore. Because, in the end, he’d been right. We were barely in our twenties. We were fresh out of college. We’d never dated anyone else. And while that worked for some people, he knew before I did that it wouldn’t work for us. Breaking my heart was the kindest thing he could’ve done for me.

It just took a little time and distance to figure that out.

That time and distance changed him, and it changed me. Here was a man whom I used to know so intimately I knew him better than myself, and now he was little more than a familiar stranger.

We stood awkwardly until it became unbearable for Van.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you,” he said, beginning to put in his earbuds again.And I realized I’d have to start counting seagulls again or—

Maybe …

I spun around to Van. “Wanna get that ice cream?”

His eyes lit up. “Absolutely.”

So we dipped into the ice cream shop, where Van got his bacon-flavored one, and guessed that I’d still get my usual—pistachio. I was just surprised that he remembered. Then again, he was good at remembering little details. I’m sure that was what made him good at his job.

“Would you like a cup or a cone?” he asked, reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

I shook my head. “Let me pay for it.”

“C’mon, my treat?”

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