10 Years Later

Cammie

Arriving at the beachside hotel for the reunion, I lugged my oversized duffel into the lobby and prayed I wouldn’t see anyone from high school just yet. I’d been driving the last two hours with the top down on my convertible, and I was a hot, sweaty, windblown mess. Not the way I wanted to greet anyone from my past, that was for sure. Thankfully the lobby was practically empty as I approached the check-in counter. Five minutes later, key card in hand, I headed up the elevator to the tenth floor.

I slid the card into the door lock and watched as the little light turned green, allowing my entrance. As I opened the door and the room came into view, I let out a little sigh. Natural light flooded the pretty blue-and-white decor, and I immediately wished my own master bedroom in my condo looked like this.

Tossing my duffel bag on top of one of the two beds, I unzipped it and searched for my shower bag. Kristy would most likely arrive within the hour, and if I wanted any alone time in the bathroom at all, I needed to do it now, before she got here. Kristy was notorious for trapping me into serious conversations where she attempted to psychoanalyze me (no doubt this time it would be about Dalton) while I was in the shower. I think she did it because it was the only time I couldn’t escape or run away.

During high school, Dalton had been the very definition of charismatic, the kind of guy who captivated a room whenever he walked into it. And it wasn’t because he was the best-looking guy at school. That award definitely went to David Lampson, hands down. And from what I could tell from David’s Facebook profile, he was even better looking in his late twenties than he was as a teenager. Go, David.

Dalton, however, had something about him that entranced both genders, and it had absolutely nothing to do with looks. Guys thought he was smart and cool, and girls were captivated by his charm. Myself included.

Obviously.

He wasn’t mean-spirited or cruel, and that was part of what made it so hard for me to hate him after everything we went through together. After everything I willingly gave him.

I’d tried to put my senior year with Dalton behind me, but a girl couldn’t go through something like that and come out unscathed. Every experience I’d ever had with a guy had changed me in some way. Whether it was a single idea, or an altered view, I was never quite the same girl after as I had been before. I firmly believed that wasn’t a bad thing, either. The only way we could truly know what we wanted in a partner was to figure out the things we didn’t want. Process of elimination, I supposed, but you risked losing pieces of your heart along the way.

No one ever said love was easy. And if they did, they lied.

“I’m here, hooch!” Kristy’s voice filled the steamy air just as I stepped into the shower.

“I’m in the shower, and I swear to God, Kristy, don’t come in here. Let me shower in peace,” I pleaded from behind the shower curtain.

I felt the whoosh of cold air before I heard the door opening. “When have I ever let you shower in peace? I live to torture you.”

I groaned as I soaped myself up. “Why? You’re so weird. Why can I never shower alone when you’re around?”

“So, let’s talk about Dalton Thomas.”

See?

“What about him?” My insides tightened, and my throat suddenly felt like I’d swallowed a cup of ground glass.

“How are you feeling now that the big day is finally here? Are you freaking out? I’m freaking out for you.”

“We don’t even know if he’s coming, Kris.”

“Oh, please. He was our class president, he’s definitely coming,” she said matter-of-factly.

I peered around the shower curtain to find her perched on the bathroom counter. “But what if he doesn’t? Seriously, what if he doesn’t even show up? How the hell will I know if I still feel anything for him or not if I don’t see him?”

She groaned. “I wish I had something to throw at you. Like ice.” She hopped off the bathroom counter. “I’ll be right back.”

“What? Don’t go get ice!”

Convincing myself she couldn’t be serious, I heard the sounds of things slamming and crashing around before the hotel door slammed closed. I tried to rush through the rest of my shower before she came back and hurled ice at me. Who does that?

“I’m back!” Her voice filled the bathroom far too quickly, and I peered around the curtain again in mock fear. “What are you doing?” she asked innocently. “Why do you look so scared?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to force me to mimic the ice bucket challenge and ruin my shower,” I admitted.

“I needed ice for my drink. See?” She swirled the red concoction around in a small glass.

I breathed out a quick sigh of relief before ducking back into the shower to rinse the conditioner from my tangled hair.

“S

o, are we going to talk about him?” she asked.