Reliving Yesterday ✔

Chapter 19.

"How pretty is the dress?"

I looked over at Hanna. "Very pretty. I just told you."

"I want to see you in it," she whined.

"You will," I told her, "When the pictures come."

"God, OK. I know you're going to be the prettiest," she told me, happily. I grinned at her, unable to do anything. "Where are you going this afternoon?"

"Visiting Michael," I told her.

"Aren't you over that?" she asked me, giving me a typical Hanna look.

"What?" I shrugged, "He's nice. He's not a typical shrink."

She rolled her eyes, but dropped me off at the clinic anyway. "Are you on time?" she asked me.

"Yep, I'll call you when I get home."

"OK. Bye. I love you, you weirdo."

I laughed and walked in. Waving to the receptionist who was always there, I walked to the back of the clinic. As usual, there weren't many people. Just one person coming towards the door to leave.

Parker.

I stopped in my tracks and stared at him. He blanched for a second, his eyes widening. He hurried past me and out the door. I shook my head and ran into Michael's office.

"What was Parker Wesley doing here?" I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Well, hello to you, too," Michael said, smiling, unfazed.

"Seriously! What the hell was he doing here?" I practically yelled at him.

Michael frowned slightly. "You know him?" he asked me, cocking his head to one side.

Sighing exasperatedly, I glared at Michael. "Uh huh! Who do you think I'd been talking about all these years?" I asked him.

Michael seemed to be calculating something in his mind and then realization seemed to dawn on his face. He pushed his glasses back on his nose and raised his eyebrows until they disappeared beneath the hair that was flopping over his face. "Oh, that's your Parker? Why didn't it occur to me before?"

"Ugh! Men!" I cried, dropping into the couch in front of Michael. "What was he doing here?"

"You know I can't tell you that," he said, giving me a knowing look, "You know that. Just like I don't discuss what I talk about with you with whoever else comes in here."

"He comes here for therapy?" I asked, slowly.

"Oh, come on, Alex, his parents are divorced and his dad's remarried," he told me, "That's bound to throw a kid off balance."

I raised an eyebrow at him, smirking. He rolled his eyes at me. "It's not like I just told you something that you didn't know," he said, shrugging. "Now, let's talk about you. How's the wedding stuff?"

"Eh," I sighed, "It's OK. Same as always, you know, I feel a little out of place because they're all best friends, you know. And I'm OK with it."

Michael eyed me. "Anything new on the Parker front?" he asked me.

I shook my head. "Not really. He hasn't spoken to me since we danced the last time and I haven't been for two of those practises because of track team clashes. Dad's been home these past few days, so he hasn't needed to come over, either, but Dad went somewhere today, so I'm thinking, unless I stay under my bed till Parker comes and goes, I'll probably run into him."

"You're not that messed up, are you kiddo?"

*

"I'm home!" I yelled to the house, which I'm pretty sure was empty. I walked into the kitchen and sure enough, there was a note on the fridge from dad.

I made lasagna because I know you love it. Heat it. It's in the oven. Parker will come over, OK? So don't conk him on the head with that bat of yours. I'll be back tomorrow. Call me if you need anything. Go over to Parker's if there's a problem. Fred's with me, OK? Be safe. Sleep tight, kiddo. I love you. Dad.

I breathed out heavily and sat down to do my homework. By about seven, I turned on the oven and went to change into a pair of shorts. When I got back down, there was a knock on the door. Parker. I avoided his eyes as I let him in. He brushed past me. "Judy was looking for you," he said, gruffly.

"Oh."

He went upstairs and I closed the door and waited in the foyer for him. It was when he returned that I noticed he had on a polo shirt and a pair of dark rinse denims. As soon as I looked up, he looked away. "Parker?" He stopped moving and grunted at me. "Why do you go to see Michael?" I asked him.

He snorted. "None of your business," and after and a moment he added, "Why do you go there?"

"None of your business," I muttered.

"Can't handle the drama of senior year?" he chuckled.

"I've been going to him for a few years," I told him.

"How long?" he seemed amused. I'll give him something to be amused about.

"About since the time you started picking on me," I spat, flatly.

And that's when Parker whipped his head around to look at me. "What?" he snapped. And that's also when I noticed the big gash above his right eyebrow and I gasped.

"Parker, you're hurt," I cried, moving over to him, forgetting about everything that had happened between us. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't stop caring about Parker. I reached my hand up to touch the gash. He grabbed my hand before I could.

"What?" he repeated.

"You're hurt," I said, again, "Let me get the first aid kit."

"No, you idiot. What did you say before?"

"Come into the kitchen," I said, pushing him in the direction of the kitchen. "It looks a little swollen, let's keep an ice pack on it."

Parker let go of my hand, still frowning a little. I walked over to the fridge and got him a bag of peas and handed it to him. "Keep it on the gash," I said, "And when you're going, take it. I don't know why my dad still buys them. Yuck."

For a moment, time seemed to stop because Parker chuckled. Not the evil kind that villains in movies do, but the usual Parker chuckle, just deeper. The chuckle I'd grown up hearing. The proper one which could get any girl to swoon. "You still hate these green suckers?" he asked.

"They're still disgusting," I said, my heart racing at his sudden return. Parker shook his head, holding the bag to his forehead, just like he'd shaken his head at me a million times before. It kind of caught me off guard and I forgot what I was supposed to be doing.

"Uh," I cleared my throat. "Let me get the first aid kit." I practically ran out of the room, hoping Parker wouldn't hear my heart racing because of him. Because that was one of my vows; never to let Parker know how much he affected my heart. God, I'm pathetic. I got the first aid kit and walked back into the kitchen. Parker was surveying the fridge door in all it's photo and drawing and magnet plastered glory. "Sit down and I'll - uh - I'll clean that for you."

He slid on to a bar stool, his chuckle gone. "I can do that, you know?" he told me.

"I know."

He pulled the lever on the bar stool so that we were at eye level and put the bag of peas down on the counter. I gulped. Avoid the hypnotic green eyes. Don't even look at them. I cleaned as best as I could with my shaking hand and put some medicine and a plaster on it. The whole time Parker watched me. I wanted to scream at him. What are you thinking? Why are you staring at me? But I couldn't. Because I'm a chicken. "All done," I said, in a soft voice, looking away from him.

"Thanks." The word shook my heart. There was no coldness there, but there was emotion. It was a change.

Silence filled the room as I put the things away and washed my hands. When I turned back, Parker was still watching me. "Want to stay for dinner?" I asked, "My dad told me that your dad wasn't home either."

Parker eyed me.

"My dad made lasagna," I sang, knowing how much Parker loves my dad's lasagna.

And that's how Parker and I ate dinner together for the first time in five years.