The One Who Got Away is Back

Memory 14 ♡ Walk, Walk, Fashion Baby

At first I suspected that the whole thing was an elaborate ruse by Ayrton to rope me into working with Miguel for my showcase, but he couldn't have known that the other guy would be at the cafe that night. And then over the next couple of days I FaceTimed with Ayrton and Aunt Jem and yeah, the poor lady was in the hospital, alright. She'd actually required surgery to repair her shattered knee.

"I'll just head on back for my exams and your show," Ayrton said. "Believe it or not, I do want to see the final result of your hard work."

"That's reassuring," I said with a laugh. "And after that?"

"Summer in Sarasota, baby. Just like the good old days."

That conversation gave me a niggling feeling, like having found each other was only a fluke and we were soon going to go back to our intended status. Away. But I figured I was being melodramatic. He'd be back after the summer and things would continue as usual. I chalked it up to my very real fear of separation, courtesy of two neglectful parents.

Speaking of, having blocked them from my phone worked wonders. I hadn't had any hope that my father would contact me to make amends after months had passed, so on that front it was business as usual. But I was sure it did prevent my mother from reaching out with her machinations again. After that showdown with Miguel, I was sure she would never make the effort to come in person to wherever I was, ever again. It provided a sense of security to me that nobody else probably could understand.

I was officially free from them.

Sure, I hadn't bought my car. It had been a reluctant gift from father after he missed my graduation at Trinity, but he'd made the mistake of putting it under my name. Aside from that, everything else was mine. Since the fateful brunch, I'd paid for all my necessities with the purchasing power of student debt.

The Business Plan final was first. The two nights before handing over our report were spent in my apartment, Miguel and I sitting by the coffee table pulling at our hair and complaining about why we left the bulk of it for last minute.

"What's your excuse?" I asked him after starting on the second pot of coffee that night.

He leaned his head back against the seat of the couch, long legs sprawled out on the floor before him. "I don't know. I've been busy between preparing for graduation and moving away, my porcupine sister acting up because she misses her boyfriend, Bryce and his stupid grudge..."

And Becca. But none of us brought up her name. It would feel weird talking about her while we were alone at my apartment and she was off studying with her friends for her own finals. Things had turned weird between them after that famous coffee date that caused the fight I witnessed Miguel and Bryce have. It was during that date that she finally realized she was barking up the wrong tree for so aggressively wanting to get with a guy whose time in town was ticking. She'd cried on my shoulder about it and moped for days, but I knew she still held on to hope that Miguel would maybe stay longer. To hang out with her.

I brought over two mugs of coffee as the sun set outside the window, and wiggled between the furniture to sit across from him. I kicked one of his legs out of the way so I could cross mine.

"So, where are you moving after graduation?" I asked, trying to sound casual.

"Back to Canada for a while," he said. "Dad still needs help with the new venture."

"Is that what you want?"

His green eyes held onto mine, but finally he replied, "For now, yes."

The asshole Business Plan teacher had set a deadline for the report of six in the morning. Like he knew that everybody's intention was to pull an all nighter and he was mocking us for it. That last night Becca had returned from her friend's place in the middle of the night and found both Miguel and I in full brainstorming mode. We were both so caffeinated and sugar high, that I doubted we looked like regular people having an intellectual conversation. We probably resembled mad scientists, our clothes dirty with Dorito crumbs and wrinkled, our hairs standing on their ends and our arms flapping around like seals as we tried to get each other's points across.