Page 39 of Rewriting the Story

He smiles as he shakes his head. “I guess I did.”

The two of us stand suspended in this moment, and I finally get a good look at him. When I was at the concert, we talked, but I never got to study him. Now that he’s in front of me again, I take this moment to really see him.

He’s taller than me, which I knew from the concert, but his brown, curly hair is fluffier than it was before. His black, square-framed glasses probably need to be adjusted, because he keeps fiddling with them, and his eyes remind me of the lake I dipped my feet into last summer.

He’s beautiful. Anyone with eyes can see that.

He grabs his coffee off the counter. I’m still unsure with what else to say, but he beats me to it.

“Are you headed to study?”

“I am.” I adjust my bag. “I have a huge paper to write, and I couldn't focus in my apartment.”

“Oh, nice,” he says. “What are you studying here?”

“Uh, journalism. And you?”

“Creative writing.” He smiles before he laughs to himself. “We’re both studying something along the same lines, and I never knew you existed before that concert.”

“So?”

“It’s just interesting.”

“What is?”

“Timing. It’s everything. At least, that’s how I see it. One day, I didn't know you existed, and the next, I found you at the concert. Now, here we are, on the same college campus, our paths crossing again.” He tilts his head. “Don’t you think that’s a little coincidental?”

“Maybe,” I say. “But I’m not a big believer in fate and things like that.”

“Well, everything happens for a reason.” He steps closer to me. “You haven't used my number yet.”

“I haven't,” I reiterate. “Maybe I knew the universe would bring us back together.”

“But you don’t believe in that sort of thing.”

God, if he was anyone else, I’d find him annoying, but this entire conversation with him has been strangely endearing.

I think my brain might be broken.

“You got me there.”

That only makes him laugh. “You’re a very endearing person, Amelia Ellis.”

“I don’t think that word has ever been used to describe me, Henry Hayes.”

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first.” He takes a sip of his drink. “Use my number. I’d love to chat more about music and everything in between with you, especially since we’re both on the same campus for the summer.”

“I’d like that.”Oh, would you, Ames? Would you like that?

“Me too,” he says before he heads for the library doors. “Bye, Mills.”

A Few Minutes Later

Amelia: Mills? Really?

Henry: What? Have you never had a nicknamebefore?

Amelia: Of course I have. It just caught me off guard.

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