Page 6 of Love Letter Lost
“Yes. But you never know when something will come in handy.”
“I frequently find myself wishing I’d held onto my junior high Lip Smackers collection.” I held up one of the giant pink tubes of lip balm. “You never know when you’re going to need some”—I glanced at the label—“sugar plum to spice up your goodnight kisses with David.” I puckered my lips at Livvy and made kissing sounds.
“Shush.” Livvy threw a pillow my direction and I laughed as she missed, the pillow landing in one of the open boxes instead.
“Now the extra noise makes sense,” a loud, laughing voice said. I looked up to see a petite woman with thick black hair and a giant grin leaning against the door frame.
“Aunt Jenna!” I walked over and wrapped her in a hug. “How are you?”
“I’m great. Though I do need to borrow the future bride for a minute. I need some direction on what to do with some boxes I found in the garage.”
Livvy groaned. “I thought I got them all. I’ll be right back.”
Aunt Jenna and Livvy left me in the room, and I got back to work on the dresser. After packing a drawer of old t-shirts, I found myself committing to a deep clean of my apartment as soon as I finished painting. I opened the last drawer, a smile filling my face when I spotted the photos and yearbooks inside. I picked up a few of the images and began thumbing through. A picture of 10-year-old me and Livvy with matching braids, our arms thrown around each other, was at the top of the stack. Most people were surprised when Livvy and I told them we were related. From my straight blonde hair, tall frame, and fair skin that only went from pale to burnt in the summer to Livvy’s dark wavy hair, petite frame, and naturally tan complexion, we couldn’t appear more different. But she’d been my best friend for as long as I could remember. I was grateful she would be staying in Orem for a few more years while David finished his master’s degree. I wasn’t ready for her to move away yet.
I shuffled through more pictures until one of Livvy and me in formal dresses, a guy to either side of us, caught my eye. My breath hitched in my chest as I looked into the familiar blue eyes of my date: Ridge.
Unbidden, memories of that night filled my mind, my heart aching as I relived senior prom a decade earlier.
Ridge had asked me to prom after his original date had bailed. I had been thrilled, spending hours with Livvy searching for the perfect dresses, mine a deep green and Livvy’s a soft pink, and planning our elaborate hairstyles. That night had been magical. Ridge and I had danced and talked and laughed, and I’d known it couldn’t get any better. As we’d left the dance, Ridge had reached for my hand and led me to the car.
“I’m not quite ready to call it a night,” he’d murmured. “I think we need to do a bit of stargazing first.”
We’d driven to a nearby park, settling onto the swings, our hands intertwined as we rocked gently back and forth and gazed up at the sky.
I’d sat there happily, soaking in the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine. Eventually he’d stood up, pulling me to my feet. The momentum had propelled me into his chest, and when he’d pulled me closer, I’d known what would happen next. Our lips had met and I’d given into the wonder of my first kiss. It had been fireworks and butterflies and magic all rolled into one unforgettable moment.
Looking back, I realized that the kiss had been more about hormones and teenage angst than actual good kissing technique, but it had shifted my world. I had thought everything would change. My crush on Ridge would no longer be unreturned. I had proof. He and I would become a couple and follow the path to happily ever after.
I pushed away memories of the rest of that night, memories I refused to think about even now. Memories of screeching tires and flashing headlights. That night had changed more than my romantic dreams, thanks to the car accident I did my best to pretend had never happened.
After that night, Ridge had never called. He’d never texted. He’d simply disappeared, finishing his high school diploma online and running away to a job in Florida. Suddenly, the friend who had been a staple at family functions had just been gone. He hadn’t responded when I’d tried to contact him. The only proof I had that prom had even happened was in dance pictures like this one and the memory of a first kiss that had shattered first my world and then my heart. I hadn’t seen him since, until today.
The sound of a stair squeaking signaled someone’s approach, drawing me back to the present. I looked up as Livvy peeked her head into the room.
“Those boxes are going to take a bit longer than anticipated. You good by yourself for a few more minutes? Also, Dad’s out picking up drinks. Do you want anything?”
“I’ll be fine, and I’d love some Dr. Pepper with blackberry and lime.”
“Deal. I’ll be back.”
Livvy disappeared once more, leaving me alone with the ghost of my teenage broken heart. Usually, that night felt far away. Now it felt like yesterday, all the pain of rejection hovering closer to the surface than I cared to admit as I fingered the faint scar that ran along my right arm just below the elbow, a physical reminder of that night. With everything that had happened with Matt, I would have thought my first heartbreak would have faded away, replaced by more recent events, and yet there was something about first love that left a mark even time couldn’t erase.
Trying to avoid digging up more painful memories, I piled the remainder of the drawer into the box. As I pulled out the last yearbook, an envelope fluttered out onto the floor. I set the yearbook in the box and reached for the envelope, surprised to find my name written on it in a masculine hand that looked oddly familiar.
“Mallory, drinks are here,” Livvy called down the stairs.
Not wanting to lose the letter among everything else scattered around Livvy’s room, I carried it up the stairs, curious to know what it contained.
I stepped into the familiar kitchen decorated with framed recipe cards and faded produce wallpaper to find Livvy searching through a pile of papers at the table, two 44-ounce cups sitting next to her.
“Wow, you really want to keep me motivated if you’re providing the biggest size possible.” I laughed, reaching for one of the cups and glancing at the label before taking a swallow. The Dr. Pepper, combined with a zip of lime and the tang of blackberry, was exactly the pick-me-up I needed to power through the remainder of Livvy’s closet.
“Joke all you want, but if this is what it takes to keep you a happy worker bee, I will provide all the Dr. Pepper you can drink. I just wish I had thought to keep some slushy ones in the back of the fridge for extra motivation.” Livvy looked up and gave me a wink before her eyes locked on the envelope in my hand. “What’s that?”
I shrugged before showing her the front, my name scrawled in the familiar handwriting that I couldn’t place. “This fell out of one of your yearbooks. Any idea what’s inside?”
Livvy paled as I watched her for a reaction.
