Page 9 of Love, Take Two

Have we, though? Because sitting here listening to him process our reunion, I'm realizing that seeing Emory stirred up feelings I thought were safely in the past. Not romantic feelings, necessarily, but... something. Familiarity, maybe. Comfort. The recognition of someone who used to know me better than anyone.

"The challenge is going to be this Derek dude," Emory says with a groan. "He's started with the embarrassing stories, and we've got six more days of him oversharing everyone's personal business with strangers."

A loud knock on my door interrupts both his conversation and my eavesdropping. I freeze, hoping whoever it is will go away, but the knocking comes again, more insistent.

"Vada! Hello!"

Derek. Of course it's Derek.

I can hear Emory's conversation pause next door as I reluctantly get up to answer the door. Through the peephole, I can see Derek holding what appears to be a bottle of wine and wearing theexpression of someone who has decided we're about to have a long, intimate conversation whether I want to or not.

"Hey, Derek," I say, opening the door but not stepping aside to invite him in. "What's up?"

"I brought wine!" he announces, holding up the bottle like it's a trophy. "I figured we should catch up properly, you know? It's been years since we talked."

"That's sweet," I say, trying to inject enthusiasm into my voice, "but it's getting late, and tomorrow starts early with the sunrise yoga—"

"Oh, we've got time," Derek says, bulldozing past my polite decline and walking into my suite like I invited him. "Besides, we need to discuss the Emory situation."

"The Emory situation?" I follow him into my room, realizing I'm going to have this conversation whether I want to or not.

"Come on, Vada," Derek says, making himself comfortable on my sofa and opening the wine without asking if I want any. "You can't tell me you weren't completely shocked to see him tonight. I mean, what are the odds?"

"Pretty astronomical," I agree, accepting the glass of wine he pours for me because refusing would probably just prolong this conversation.

"Seriously!" Derek continues, taking my agreement as encouragement. "You and Jared were like roommates who occasionally made out. Sweet, comfortable, but no spark, you know? But the look Emory Chen was giving you tonight..."

Through the wall, I can hear Emory's phone conversation resume, probably after being interrupted by Derek's arrival.His voice is quieter now, like he's trying not to listen to our conversation, but the sound carries.

"We were good friends," I say carefully. "We still are, I hope."

"Friends," Derek repeats with a snort. "Right. Is that why you guys couldn't stop looking at each other tonight? Because you're such good friends?"

"We were surprised to see each other," I protest. "It's been eight years, Derek. Of course we were going to stare a little bit."

"Vada, honey," Derek says with the tone of someone who's about to share wisdom I definitely don't want, "I saw the way Emory stepped closer to you when other people started talking. And I saw the way you looked at him when you thought nobody was watching. That wasn't friendly surprise. That was chemistry."

"You're imagining things," I say, but even as I say it, I'm remembering the flutter in my chest when Emory's hands steadied me after our collision. The way his presence felt both familiar and electric at the same time.

"I'm just saying, this could be really interesting," Derek continues, pouring himself another generous glass of wine. "Two college sweethearts, reunited at their exes' wedding in paradise? It's like a romantic comedy waiting to happen."

Derek pauses, staring into his wine glass for a moment. When he looks up, his expression is unusually serious.

"You know, Jared called me crying at 3 AM when you two broke up," he says quietly. "Not because he was heartbroken, but because he was terrified he'd ruined your friendship. He spent hours asking if I thought you'd ever forgive him for not ending things sooner."

Derek takes a sip of wine, "He's never wanted anything more than for you to be genuinely happy, Vada. Neither have I. That's why I'm so excited about you and Emory—because I can see what Jared saw back then. You light up around each other in a way that's completely different."

"Derek, I'm here to support Jared's happiness," I say firmly. "That's it. I'm not looking for romantic drama or second-chance love stories or whatever Hallmark movie scenario you're imagining."

"But if something did happen—"

"Nothing is going to happen," I interrupt, though I'm not entirely sure who I'm trying to convince. "Emory and I are adults who can handle an awkward situation maturely. We'll probably barely interact beyond basic politeness."

Derek looks at me with the expression of someone who knows something I don't, which is terrifying because Derek's knowledge usually comes from his complete inability to mind his own business.

"Well," he says, "it's going to be a very interesting week either way."

He launches into a series of stories about our Spokane friend group, including several embarrassing details about my relationship with Jared that I would prefer to keep in the past. The wine makes him even more talkative than usual, and I find myself trapped in a conversation about everyone's romantic history that goes on for what feels like hours.

---