Page 5 of Don't Leave
I can’t finish that thought.
“That’s fine,” he murmurs. “Want to go to the Union? Maybe grab a coffee?”
I’m already regretting this decision. “I guess.”
Ten minutes.
Fifteen tops.
That’s more than enough time to figure out what he wants and then, hopefully, we can both move on with our lives.
Separately.
The three-minute hike to the Union is made in awkward silence. As soon as we step inside the one-story building, we head straight to the coffee shop. Once our drinks are in hand, we find a table buried in the back that offers more privacy away from the pool tables and groups of people who are relaxing between classes.
I take a sip of the scalding hot drink and wait with hunched shoulders for him to delve into this conversation. Nerves prickle along my skin before settling in my belly.
A long stretch of silent moments slip by as I shift on my chair.
Just as I’m about to shoot to my feet, he clears his throat. “You remember me from Dartmouth, don’t you?”
Everything within me stills.
For a second or two, I consider the merits of lying. Then I can get the hell out of here. But I’m tired of all the lies and the secrets.
It takes effort to force out the response. “Yes, I remember.”
God knows I don’t want to. I’ve done my best to forget everything that happened. With him sitting across from me, his blue-gray eyes pinned to mine, that’s impossible. It’s all so fresh and vivid.
And I hate it.
I hate that he’s able to bring it all rushing back to the surface again.
A slight tremor wracks my body as my mind tumbles back in time.
It’s a relief when his gaze drops to the steaming cup of coffee before flicking back up again. “When we were dancing at that party, I didn’t realize it was you.” He corrects himself. “Not right away.”
I hadn’t recognized him either.
We were just dancing, having fun at some off-campus fraternity party. A few days after that, Cole and I ran into him at a restaurant and he’d told my boyfriend that he knew me from a different school. When he’d mentioned Dartmouth, everything had clicked into place.
The realization had rocked me to the core. Ever since that happened, I’ve been terrified he would spill all my secrets.
I’m knocked from those thoughts when he says, “At first I thought I was imagining the likeness.” He lifts his eyes to mine before sifting carefully through my shuttered expression. “I tried to find you after that night. I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you disappeared from campus. Not knowing what happened to you only made it worse.”
It’s a little surreal to sit across from someone who is a stranger and, yet, will forever be intertwined with my story.
Almost tentatively, he reaches across the table that separates us before covering my hand with his own. “I’ve spent the last year wondering what happened to the girl I found up in that bedroom. The more I tried to push you from my mind, the more you stayed with me.” His lips quirk at the corners. “Part of me wondered if I’d conjured you up at that frat party. It seemed impossible that it could really be you.” His gaze scours my face as if he’s still trying to convince himself I’m real. “You look different than last year.”
My heart jackhammers as my gaze falls to our clasped hands. “I’m in a much better place than I was before. I’m a lot healthier.”
Some of the tension disappears from his expression as he nods in agreement. “You look great.” A slight flush hits his cheeks as he corrects himself. “I mean happy. You lookhappy. It’s nice to see.”
“I’m a lot happier now than I was at Dartmouth,” I admit.
I don’t want to think about what a mess I’d been last year. Anxiety. Depression. Out of control drinking. Indiscriminate hookups. It took hours of therapy to help get all that under control.
It never occurred to me that he would be affected by the night in December our lives collided. I assumed he’d forget about the incident. Or that I would be the fucked-up-girl story he laughed about with his friends in the morning. Our interaction had been so fleeting and random.
