Page 91 of Tomorrow Belongs to Us
That's precious. I can't remember the last time anyone other than my mom, and maybe Erica when I’ve stayed over at her place, made me dinner. It could have been a lovely evening, us eating together and it was all going so well, until his daughter called.
He called me later and apologized for rushing off, but I told him he didn't need to. His daughter comes first, always, and I know that. His wife told Cassie that they were divorced, and she made Lance out to be a monster.
Something tells me his wife isn't going to make things easy for him. We stop and start, trying to get to know one another all over again. We take one step forward and then we’re slapped back.
It's not easy, but nothing worth having ever is. Besides, what I have with him isn't love, yet, and maybe it never will be more than a crush. It feels so fragile. As if it can easily fizzle out and die because the odds are stacked against us.
He opened up and told me about how he felt when I ran into that guy at the art exhibition. The idea that a guy I didn't even remember could make Lance jealous, surprises me. All this time I've been worried about measuring up to Vivian, about being elegant and sophisticated enough for Lance, and he's worried about being enough for me.
He calls and arranges to meet again, and promises that this time there won’t be other distractions. I tell him he can’t promise me any such thing. I have been a child in a dysfunctional family and I recognize the similar pattern in Lance’s family.
We go ice-skating one day, then sit outside in a park eating hotdogs and talking.
He tells me how much he likes this and, whenever we’re together, my doubts vanish. I love spending time with him. People who knew us from our past would find this strange, but to me he's just another guy.
Not my teacher.
Just a sexy guy I am madly attracted to.
There's still nothing much going on other than us holding hands. He won’t kiss me and it’s infuriating how he’s taking his goddamned time to do anything. He’s way too chivalrous for my liking.
One evening we walk back from dinner at a restaurant, and thankfully we have no interruptions. It’s just us talking about our past, reminiscing about the donut place we used to go to, and how we’d meet in the library. He takes me back to my memories and we remember them fondly, holding hands, going back in time. The connection now is magnified, and it feels as if we’re on the precipice of something.
Then it begins to rain. Not just raindrops that will soon peter out, but the heavens have opened, and thick, heavy marbles of rain strike out of the sky. In no time at all we are soaked through. The deluge comes down unexpectedly, catching us off guard so that we're forced to seek refuge. The downpour is relentless and the water soaks through my thick jumper to the vest underneath, and also my jeans, making them stick to my skin. We stand under a canopy and I look up to see Lance swiping his hands across his hair. Water trickles down his smooth face, over those sculpted bones, and I admire him quietly while he doesn’t notice.
He, too, is drenched. His suede jacket has turned a dark shade of brown and the dark blue shirt he’s wearing sticks to him like a second skin. His jeans are thick and almost black where once they were blue.
That’s when he catches me looking at him.
“You're soaked.” He pulls me towards him puts his arms around me, as if that might ward off the rain.
I shiver. “So are you.” My teeth are chattering. With my hair glued to my scalp, I dread to think how awful I must look. “This could go on for a while.” I stare up at the heavens in despair. So much for our leisurely walk after dinner; walking and talking, holding hands, trying to navigate our way through our second chance.
“I'll call for an Uber, and we’ll drop you off first.” Lance lives further out from me and in this weather, many people will be getting lifts.
I have a better suggestion. “I'm not that far away. Let's walk.”
“Walk? In this? I can't walk back in this.”
“You can walk to my place and dry off there.”
There's a knowing in his expression when he looks at me. Like he's not sure. Like he’s realizing that this is also how that night began. Maybe this is how we'll come full circle.
“Let’s go,” I say, taking off at a fast speed, wanting to get home quickly. He’s soon by my side.
“Are we walking or running?” he asks.
I haven't run for anything in recent years. “Fast walking.”
We set off, power walking through the falling rain.
~~
LANCE
This is how we began, that brief encounter that was the culmination of spending so much time outside the classroom.
It was a downpour just like this one when Megan came to me soaked to the skin, needing me.
