Page 27 of Into the Mountains
“Asher, I swear you’re a bigger idiot than you let on sometimes.”
At this point, I don’t even care. I hang up his part of the phone call, leaving Alan on the line. “I’m sorry about him.” I don’t know why I feel the need to apologize for Ash, but I do.
“It’s not your fault he’s so out of touch with everything and everyone around him.”
I shrug. “It’s not, but I’m still sorry.”
My fingers slip over the buttons a few times. “Are you nervous?” Alan asks when he notices.
I run both hands through my hair leaving it messier than before, my reflection in the mirror showing strands going in every direction.
“I am,” I admit sheepishly. I didn’t think I would be nervous. This isn’t a blind date or one with a random stranger I met on the dating website. This is with an old friend. Well, I don’t think I’d go as far as to call Charlotte Monroe an old friend. An old rival is a more accurate description. No matter what it was in high school, one of my favorite things was getting her riled up about whatever club of hers I joined that month. Really, I did it because I wanted to get as many extracurriculars as I could for college and most of the clubs also counted as some kind of college credit. Even though I had one of the highest grade point averages in our class and I had at least half my tuition paid for with sports scholarships, I wanted to shine academically too. My advisor mentioned that participating in some clubs would do that, so I listened.
“Are you nervous because you’ve never really dated or are you nervous because it’s Charlotte?”
The look on Alan’s face tells me he already knows the answer. “Both. But what if she only accepted the match to settle the score between us?”
“You’ve been messaging back and forth though, right?”
We have. We exchanged numbers on the app and after we set the date and place, we started talking here and there overthe last two days. Mostly the standard how have you been, where are you staying for the summer, etc. She’s back with her parents for the summer and I wonder how she feels about that. I think I remember her being closer with her parents than most teenagers, but I could be wrong.
“We’ve been talking, but not much since both of us have been settling in for the summer.”
“I’m sure it’s going to be great. Don’t stress about it.”
“That’s your first date advice? Don’t stress?”
“Just be yourself. But don’t try to beat her at anything. This isn’t a contest or challenge between the two of you. It’s a date. So enjoy yourself and just get to know her again.” I don’t bother correcting him that I really didn’t know her that well in the first place. We say goodbye after he wishes me luck again and I take one last look in the mirror before bounding down the stairs and stepping into the cool evening air. Before I leave though, I message Charlotte, because I can’t help but wonder if she’s as nervous and excited as I am.
Can’t wait to see you.
I usually over analyze these things, but this time I don’t allow the whirlwind of thoughts to sink in. Instead, I hold my phone up and take a picture of myself with a sideways grin on my face, the lights from the porch illuminating my features.
Three dots appear and disappear. And again. I imagine her standing on her own porch staring down at her phone contemplating what to send back only to second guess over and over. I only know because that’s usually what I do.
After a few minutes, a text comes through.
CHARLOTTE
I can’t wait either.
Right under it is a picture of her and I think I stop breathing for a second. All I see is her shoulders and above and all I can say is I never knew my breath could be stolen so easily. Even though high school was only one short year ago, she looks so…different. Brighter somehow. So much more confident in herself.
My half smile spreads and settles into my cheeks and I don’t think it leaves my face the whole way to the coffee shop.
When I walk in, my eyes immediately scan the tables for red hair. It doesn’t take me long to spot her. Sitting near the middle of the room is Charlotte Monroe, my old rival, with her hair pulled back, small wisps framing her face and an olive green shirt that compliments her skin tone. The v-neck of the shirt dives lower than I’ve ever seen her wear in the past and I make sure I don’t linger on that spot for too long. My parents may not have been the best people, but I do know how to respect women and ogling them isn’t a way to be respectful. Especially when I am just meeting her again for the first time.
But damn, she is fucking gorgeous.
She looks up from her hands laced together on the table and when she spots me, her face breaks into a wide smile. One that rivals the one I had plastered on my face on the way here. The one that’s still on my face.
She stands as I make my way to her and surprisingly neither of us hesitate to embrace each other. Which isn’t something we ever did before, but now, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
We both pull back at the same time, but don’t let go just yet. My hands are touching the skin on her arms and I feel like I might combust. “You look absolutely—”
“Different? I know. Once we graduated, I decided I wanted to go to college and be a little different than high school, you know, find myself a little bit more. I was always so scared to try new outfits because I thought everyone would have made fun of me, which they probably would have.”
“I was going to say beautiful.” She blushes. Her words come out in a bit of a jumble and I’m happy to see that part of her hasn’t changed. “I wouldn’t have made fun of you,” I say, going back to her garbled words.
