Page 6 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
And test them I did.
I pushed him one cold and rainy night. I needed him, and I made it impossible for him to not need me back.
He was thirty-two and concerned.
I was eighteen and lost.
But that was then and this is now. I should be stronger now that I’m older and so many years have passed, but he has slowly infiltrated my thoughts again. I find myself wondering if he’s back at work, or still taking time off to recover. I’ve become obsessed by his story and look it up online daily, hoping to find out more about him, but it’s the same old story, about him being a professor, and how he saved the girl. I find little snippets from the college’s website, but it’s all to do with his work. Still, I get to see a few more photos of him, looking at them daily, sometimes more than a few times than is good for me.
One day when I’m supposed to be working from home, I drive past his college to get a feel for the place where he works, to catch a glimpse of him, if he’s back.
How is it that he’s been here the entire time, in my town, in my city, under my nose? How is it that we’ve never crossed paths before? How is it that he and I have ended up here? It’s nowhere near Nebraska, or wherever it was that he vanished to.
Parked outside the college, I stare at the sprawling campus intrigued by the thought that he could be near. I wonder if he has a musty old office somewhere on the grounds. Then I wonder if he’s here, if I might catch a glimpse of him walking in or out of the gates
My heart feels funny, and I am in a state of limbo. I ask myself what good would come of seeing him again? But, mercifully, the city's big enough that we can both avoid one another easily.
Chapter 4
LANCE
I go around the corner a little faster than I intended and slam on my brakes. The lights are green but a woman crouches on the ground frantically trying to grab her groceries which have fallen out of her bag.
Drivers are getting angry but unless they want to run her over, they’ll have to wait. The driver behind me blasts his horn and I’m so worked up that I honk my horn right back at him. He honks his horn again and I give him the middle finger before getting out.
“Hey! Asshole.” The guy gets out of his car and storms towards me. I ignore him and go over to the woman. A couple of oranges roll away from her as she tries to gather everything together.
I scrub my face because I’m seeing things. Even though she doesn’t look my way, she looks familiar, chewing her lower lip, her expression nervous.
Time slows down just at that moment when I crouch down and start helping her. It’s like a juggernaut has hit me, the way every bone in my body feels suddenly smashed.
I know that face. I know those lips and eyes.
It’s her.
Megan.
Her wavy hair falls around her shoulders, but that face. That face I will never forget.
“Megan?” She finally glances up. Those large warm mahogany eyes stare back at me. Recognition skims across her face.
“Hey asshole.” A guy pokes me in my back. I turn around.
“Get the fuck away,” I say, my voice deathly quiet. His head tilts, he recognizes me, I think, but can’t quite place me. He opens his mouth to say something, but I beat him to it. “She’s getting her things together. Don’t be an asshole.”
The man backs away, and I pick up a jar of crunchy peanut butter and put it back in her bag.
Has she recognized me, or not? I said her name. I could never forget her. Has she forgotten me? Car horns honk louder in the background. She stands up quickly then rushes away just as I shout after her, “Wait for me!”
I race back to my car as the driver behind beeps his horn again. I give him the middle finger again. Asshole. It’s not her fault her bag ripped.
I see her rushing along the sidewalk, as if she can’t get away fast enough. I walked out of her life once, when she was in a bad way and I had no choice, but I’ve never forgotten about her.
Megan Summers is not someone easily forgotten.
~~
MEGAN
