Page 12 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
“He got out of his car?”
“Yes.”
“Getouttahere!” Arla yells. “Then what happened?”
“He came over and started helping me put things back. I was so embarrassed I didn’t look at him at first. Then he said my name and I looked up. But I knew that voice already.”
Arla squeals in delight. “And?”
“He’s staring right at me. I swear it was like being back in the classroom.”
“He never stared at any of us like that,” says Arla. “What did you do?”
“I got my groceries together and walked away.”
“You walked off and left him?”
“What was I supposed to do? I was at a crossing. Drivers were tooting their horns. It wasn’t a convenient place to stop.”
“Did you speak to him?”
“Eventually. He came looking for me.”
I can tell Arla is grinning. “You knew he would.”
“He didn’t have to go very far.”
“This is so romantic!”
“You’d think a bag of chips was romantic.”
“Talking of chips, wait up,” she says, and the line goes quiet. I wonder what she’s doing. “Shoot,” she says, returning.
“Where did you go?”
“To get chips. I’m ready. Tell me more.”
“We got to talking, and I asked him about the shooting and his injury. He asked me about my job etcetera, etcetera.”
I can hear Arla munching away. “Is he as gorgeous in real life as he looks in the papers?”
“He—” I can’t bring myself to admit to it. “He doesn’t look that different to when I last saw him.”
“The man has barely aged,” Arla agrees.
“He’s got a few wrinkles and more silver greys but he’s still in the same shape.” Damn that man. He’s all I’ve thought about ever since I saw him. And it all comes back. What he meant to me. How I’d fallen for him despite trying not to.
“Are his eyes still bright blue?”
I bite down on my teeth. “They didn’t look so bright this time.” But they reminded me of a lake in summer. A shimmering, iridescent blue. I have never forgotten those eyes. Or this man. Or how he makes me feel. How he made me feel back when I was cared for. My breath stalls and grows uneven just thinking about him.
“Single?” Arla chirps.
“How should I know? Why would I care?” My voice wavers.
“Why would you care?” Arla picks up on the wobble. “He’s in your head again.”
“He is not!”
