Page 8 of The One
We had been so young back then. I’d barely even kissed a girl at that age—unless you counted our babysitter, who I’d laid my lips on in seventh grade after my brother dared me to. That was why it had taken me so long to try to kiss Lainey; I didn’t really know what the hell I was doing, and I wanted to make sure I did it right. Homecoming was when I finally got the nerve. But Penelope fucked that up, and my whole plan had gone to shit.
I held that regret for a long time.
But now … Lainey was here.
She was within reach.
And I wanted a do-over.
When the bell rang, Lainey looked at me. I could tell she wanted to say something, but her lips stayed sealed as she got up and headed for the teacher’s desk. I wasn’t going to give up this chance to talk to her. I didn’t care if I was late to my next class.
I left the room and pressed my back against the wall right outside the door. I wasn’t there long when Ridge stopped by. He had freshman English this period, and we always passed each other in the hallway when I was on my way to Trigonometry.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
I adjusted my bag. “You’re not going to fucking believe this.”
“Believe what?”
Something caught his attention since he was no longer looking at me, and his mouth opened, the shock clear on his face. “Oh my God, Rhett, is that Lainey Taylor? Or Penelope? Regardless, what are they doing here?”
Lainey was coming out of the classroom, heading in the other direction from where we were standing.
I needed to catch up to her.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
I jogged to her side. “Hey.”
“Hi.” She grabbed the strap of her backpack and held what looked like a school map in her other hand. “I thought I’d remember how to get around this school, but freshman year feels like a million years ago. I’m going to be late for Trigonometry if I don’t figure out how to get there. I’ve got to hurry.”
“You don’t have Mrs. Lynch, do you?”
“I do.”
Another period I got to spend with her.
Fuck yeah.
“So do I. I’ll walk you there.”
I didn’t know how to bring it up. What to even say. I didn’t want to sound pathetic and dwell on the past—freshman year did feel like forever ago.
But I’d never forgotten her.
And I’d always wondered what I’d done wrong because she never once tried to contact me.
“Are you happy to be back?” I asked.
She rubbed her lips together, her fingers turning white as she continued to cling to the wide strap of her backpack. “Yes. But,ummm… I’ve been so nervous about it.” She gradually looked at me. “I still am.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. To see my old friends and …you.”
“Why would you be nervous to see me?”
“I don’t know … I …”
