Page 9 of Hello Forever
I found myself letting out agiantsigh.
“You okay?” Amyasked.
“Sure,” I lied. The truth was that my head was spinning. One look at Axel had me tied inknots.
“Who was that guy atthegame?”
I put the car in reverse and backed out. “Are we headed toBruisers?”
“We could,” she hedged. “But why don’t you come over instead? I’ll open a bottleofwine.”
“Done.” At the end of the cul-de-sac I turned left instead of right, and two minutes later we pulled up in front of her family’smansion.
Amy and I had both graduated from high school in Henning. We’d dated during our senior year. In fact, it was in this very house that she and I had awkwardly lost our virginity to oneanother.
The sex had been utterly underwhelming for both of us—nobody saw fireworks. We’d tried once more in the back of my car, and that had been evenworse.
That night had accomplished two things. First, it created the fodder for a million inside jokes between Amy and me. Second, it proved to me that sex with women was not mything.
After graduation we’d gone on to different colleges, but we stayed tight. That’s how strong our friendship was. We’d failed miserably at giving each other orgasms, but we were really good at watching basketballtogether.
And? She’d never told a soul what she knew about my sexualorientation.
Now Amy led me by the hand through the foyer of her stately home. “Hi Dad!” she called as we passed thelibrary.
“Hi,pumpkin.”
“Hello, Professor,” I said, feeling the latent guilt that any guy feels walking past a man whose daughter he’sdeflowered.
“Evening, Cax.” His newspaper didn’t even twitch. The mood at Amy’s house was always this calm. No wonder we’d always hung out here and never at mine. I loved thisplace.
It was a little weird to see Amy pouring wine at the kitchen counter, something that had never happened when we were teenagers. She and I had both moved back to Henning after graduation six months ago. She had a job in the admissions office, and I was a graduate student. She lived at home to save money. I lived in graduate student housing because I couldn’t share a roof with my father. But I’d chosen to go to school here because I realized my brothers stillneededme.
Push and pull. That’s how this town felttome.
I carried the wine into the cozy TV room at the back of the house. She clicked the TV on to a crime drama but left the sound low. By silent mutual agreement, we sat close together on the sofa. “Okay, spill,” she saidimmediately.
Ack. I took a deep drink of wine to stall. “His name is Axel,” I said finally. “We were church diocese friends for years in Ohio. And then when we were sixteen, we fooledaround.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?You never toldmethat.”
I never told anyone that. “It…didn’t end well. We got caught. The pastor called ourparents.”
“Oh.” Amy’s stricken face was proof that I didn’t need to fill in the details. She’d met my asshat of afather.
“Yeah. I never went back to any more of those church retreats, obviously. And my father stood over me while I blocked Axel on Facebook and my phone. We left Ohio less than a yearlater.”
Amy sipped her wine, looking thoughtful. “So you haven’t seen this guy’s face in how manyyears?”
“Six and a half,” I said quickly.But who’scounting?
“And now he’s here inHenning.”
My heart thudded just to hear the words. “And working at the basketball game. Unless he was here with theotherteam.”
Amy grinned. “He was wearing a brown tie, Cax, and sitting on our team’s side of the table. There’s no chance he’s with the other team. Wait—I think you both play for the same team!” She cackled at herownjoke.
Meanwhile, my stomach took a long tour through my midsection. The idea that Axel Armitage might live in the same town made me feel lightheaded. I could bump into him in the coffee shop. Or thegym… Visions of Axel dribbling a basketball in very little clothing flooded mybrain.
