The Boys are Back in Town

The Boys are Back in Town: Three

Against my better judgment, I found myself pedaling back to their neighborhood in my pajamas. It was only fifteen minutes away on my bike. I stopped halfway.

On the sidewalk heading towards me was a copper-haired boy who kissed me on top of a Sycamore tree when I was fifteen. When he saw me he stopped, and his face broke open into a smile that made my heart clench. I got off my bike and nudged the stopper with my toe.

"Where are you going?" he asked casually.

"To the bakery," I said, biting the inside of my lip to stop a smile. "To buy cake with pink frosting. Where are you going?"

"The bakery," he grinned.

We stood nearly ten feet apart. I don't know what we were both waiting for. A cue? A signal? I started towards him and he met me in the middle. After two long years, his arms were around me, my face was pressed against his neck and I could have cried from missing him so much. He stood a head taller than I remembered, and his day old stubble tickled my forehead when he kissed my hair.

His hand moved to the back of my head, and mine remained around his waist. I wanted to tuck myself in and stay where I was. "You owe me two years' worth of hugs," I whispered.

"I'll make it up to you," he said.

I pulled away to look at him, pushing my fingers through his hair before I could stop myself, the way I imagined myself doing for two years. Something was lodged in my throat, and I found that I couldn't speak. You're here, at last, I thought.

"Hello, Clair Matthews."

I clenched the back of his shirt with my other hand. "Yes. Hello, Alek Dashwood."

***

"I was going to wait," he said, walking my bike for me. "But when we got here, I saw Elba and I couldn't. It seemed stupid, waiting when I've already waited two years to see you."

I grinned. "I was going to wait for you. Imagine how it would have turned out if we both did what we planned."

"What changed your mind?"

"Julia sent me a picture of the cars parked outside your house, and I knew you were home."

"So you jumped out of bed and decided to come over in your pajamas?" he said, clearly amused.

"These are great pajamas," I said, gesturing to the mini cupcakes printed on the cotton. "Also highly appropriate for the moment, don't you think?"

When he didn't say anything, I looked back and found him staring at me with a half-smile on his face. "What?"

Alek exhaled and shrugged. "I missed you, that's all."

"Me too," I said quietly. "Really."

Because of the ridiculous policy made by a bunch of fourteen-year-old girls, I never acted on my feelings until the summer a Dashwood boy kissed me after we conquered, not for the first time, a particularly tall Sycamore tree in their neighborhood. It was the last week my three best friends had in our town before leaving for school, and it became a week full of secret kisses and hand-holding, sneaking off to the tree and deliberately brushing past each other whenever and wherever our paths crossed.

And then in the classic way of a girl overcome with first love, I decided that we were too young to be serious. I corked the bottle to stanch the overflow and broke both our hearts. I told him he didn't need to feel guilty about what happened because I wanted it, too, and they were leaving anyway.

It turns out it's not such a good idea to tell someone else what they feel. I said goodnight and the next morning, I said goodbye.

Two years is a long time.