Page 3 of Best I Never Had

The cashier standing a couple of feet away raises his brows as he overhears our conversation before placing our order on the pick-up counter and calling out our number. We take our lunch placed neatly in a brown paper bag, along with the large brownie that I can’t stop thinking about, and head toward the doors.

I smile at Lucy. I’m glad that she’s visiting for the weekend, even if she brought with her the grim news of my ex’s relationship status strapped onto her carry-on. The last time I saw her was over the holidays, when Matteo and I were still together, and I can’t believe how much I miss spending time with her. I miss havingTwilightmarathons on our squishy living room sofa back home or lying on my childhood bedroom floor, as hers was always scattered with wrinkled clothes and dirt-covered sneakers, while we listened to the latest One Direction album.

The sad look of rejection that was on my face is now fully replaced by an eager, hopeful smile as I look at Lucy over my shoulder. “Are you excited for this mini vacay away from school?” I ask.

Her nod is vigorous, excited with the anticipation of getting drunk off whatever hard liquor we have access to. “I really needed this trip. Schoolhas been horrendous. Why I thought grad school was a good idea is beyond me.”

A light laugh slips through my lips as we open the door, and I crash into a cardboard box held up at eye level. “Oof!”

The box nearly drops to the floor before the person carrying it manages to balance it with their knee. I smile apologetically, consciously keeping my eyes zoned in on the floor while rubbing the spot on my chest where the hard corner of the box poked me. I turn my body sideways, awkwardly squeezing through the narrow opening between the box and the doorframe.

“Natalia?”

My gaze shifts up, following the edges of the wide box gripped by large hands that look tan not only by the sun but by genetics as well. When I get to the stranger’s face, there’s something oddly familiar. Tall, dark-haired, and eyes that light up through a smile that’s all teeth and dimples.

My brow furrows as I finally place the stranger to a point in my mind that I’ve long left behind but never fully forgot about.

“Hayden?”

I spent a lot of my senior year at Coolidge View High worrying about trivial things. Like making sure my grades were good enough to land me an acceptance letter to NYU, passing my driver’s test after failing twice my junior year (it’s notmyfault the stop sign was strategically placed behind a tree branch!), and begging my mom to buy me a pair of Doc Martens when everyone else wore ballet flats and knee-high pirate boots.

But I also had my Advanced Placement Biology class and Hayden Marshall. While our brains worked through the various stages of cell division, our hearts were poured onto that contaminated black tabletop, and we were able to forget for the entirety of fifth period that we came from two different social pods.

“Hayden Marshall!” The loud, high-pitched squeal of excitement isn’t coming from me. It’s coming from Lucy. “Nat! It’s Hayden!”

I nod, eyeing her as if I hadn’t already acknowledged his presence when he crashed into me.

“What are you doing here?” Hayden asks, directing his question to me while shifting the box from one arm to the other.

“I’m visiting for the weekend,” Lucy answers.

“It’s…Lucy, right?” he says, his eyes narrowing as he tries to place her.

“Duh, silly!”

Hayden smiles politely, then looks back at me. “Do you live in the city?”

“Um, yeah,” I answer, still a little shocked that I’ve run into a Coolidge View High alumnus hundreds of miles from home. “Just around the corner. You?”

“I live in Brooklyn. I’m just here making a delivery.” He holds up the box. “The restaurant I work for does deliveries for their desserts.” He tilts his head in the direction of the glass display I was just ogling.

My eyes widen. “So I haveyouto thank for those brownies?”

He laughs. “Among other things.” He shifts the box again. “Hey, listen. Let me get this inside. Don’t go anywhere.”

I nod and look over at Lucy, who’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Nat, it’s Hayden Marshall!” she whispers sharply as soon as he’s out of earshot.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” I whisper back, giving her a look of disapproval.Geez, you’d think we just ran into one of the Ryans. Gosling or Reynolds, of course. Nowthosemen are worthy of this level of raucous excitement.

“He is so hot!” she exclaims, smiling eagerly while ignoring the sarcasm in my tone.

“Lucy!”

“What?” she defends herself. “He is.”

I stay silent, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with her. Our heads turn toward the inside of the store, both observantly watching as Hayden hands over the large box to an employee while smiling and nodding a quick exchange.

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