10 Years Later (4 page)

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.

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

Trying for clueless, I said, “I don’t really know what you want to talk about exactly.”

“Well, for starters, what the hell are you going to do if he shows up with a date tonight?”

Die.

“Or worse,” she went on. “What if he shows up married?”

Die twice
.

I silently wondered what was worth than death, because that was what I would do if Dalton Thomas showed up married tonight. But him being married was an absolute possibility, I reasoned, and I needed to mentally be prepared for it. Only I had no idea how to wrap my heart, or mind, around the prospect.

“Cammie? Did I give you a stroke in there?”

I swallowed the boulder stuck in my throat and tried to speak. “No, but you aren’t helping. I’m freaking out enough already without you adding to it, Kris. You’re supposed to talk me off the ledge, not walk me to it.”

The fact was that Dalton Thomas had always stayed firmly rooted in the back of my mind. Sometimes people did and said things that stayed with you your whole life. Their actions and words became living, breathing things that instilled themselves inside your heart and became one with it. Dalton had become so ingrained, so easily a part of me, that not even surgery could remove him.

She laughed, and I heard the ice in her drink clink around. “I’m just trying to prepare you. He could be married. He could have kids.”

Does my best friend secretly hate me?
I attempted to swallow past the lump in my throat, then said, “I guess I’ll just have to deal with it and finally get past him once and for all. Ugh, I hate that the idea of him still gets to me after all this time. It’s so stupid!”

“Well, don’t beat yourself up. It’s not like you’ve spent the last ten years pining for him or anything,” she said pointedly, the sarcasm in her voice coming through loud and clear.

“I haven’t pined for him for ten years!” I exclaimed. “You make it sound like I was some pathetic loser who never got past her high school crush.”

“If the shoe fits,” she shot back.

I would go months without ever thinking about Dalton, and then out of nowhere, his memory would hit me like a freight train and I would find myself wondering where he was and what he was doing. Those were the nights I searched online, trying to find any mention of him. It made no sense for me to miss him after all this time, but I still seemed to. And secretly, a small part of me always hoped that he missed me too. I hated the idea of being alone in my feelings; it made me feel stupid and weak. If I was going to think about a boy I hadn’t seen since high school, then I wanted him to be thinking about me too. Even though I hated to admit it, sometimes I was such a girl.

Shutting off the water, I reached for two towels, wrapping my hair in one and securing the other one around my body before pulling back the curtain all the way and stepping out.

“Kristy, I’ve dated plenty of other guys. I moved on from him just fine, and you know it. Don’t act like I didn’t. It’s just that now that we’re back here, for this, I can’t help but think about him. I associate Dalton with high school the same way I associate you with it.”

“But you don’t care if I’m single or not.” When I stood up straight and stared at her reflection in the mirror, she smirked and said, “Admit it.”

I stayed silent, answering her question only in my mind.

“I said admit it!” she yelled as she reached into the ice bucket, her threat obvious.

I threw my hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I admit it. I want him to be single.”

“And have you asked yourself why?”

Unwrapping the towel from my hair, I reached for my comb and started working through the tangles. “I guess I’m not ready for him to be off the market?” I answered her question with a question as I fought back the emotions growing inside me. “When I think about Dalton, I think about the boy I knew senior year. I still see him as that guy. And in my mind, that guy isn’t married. I guess in my mind that guy still wants to make out with me in the darkroom. I don’t know!” Trying to sort out everything I felt for him was beyond complicated.

“I do.” She sipped her drink before waggling her eyebrows at me, and my shoulders tensed.

“You do?”

“It’s the same reason why I can’t fully get over Bobby,” she said with a sad smile.

Kristy and Bobby dated for over a year during college, and while she admitted that their relationship wasn’t perfect, she loved him with her whole heart. One day he came over to her apartment and broke up with her. No reason, no explanation, nothing. He just said it was over and he never looked back.

“And why’s that?” I asked, wondering what my not-real-or-ever-defined-relationship with Dalton possibly had in common with Kristy’s real-life relationship with Bobby.

“No closure.”

The words left her mouth and filled the air between us before burrowing into my flesh. I’d never once thought about it that way, so simply. Maybe my inability to get past Dalton had to do with the fact that we had no closure, which was thanks mostly to me.

Nodding slowly, I admitted, “You might be right.”

“Listen, you’ve been hung up on the guy since we were freshmen. And then after your dad—” She stopped for a second, and I held my breath as I waited for what she might say next. “Well, he’s the only one you let in after that happened. I mean, aside from me, of course.”

She half smiled and I did the same. “The two of you hooked up our entire senior year. And then all that shit happened with prom and it never got sorted out. You never let him explain his side, and you never asked him to either. You just avoided him. I don’t think you ever talked to him again after that. So see? No closure. At all.” She hopped back up on top of the bathroom counter and shrugged her shoulders, clearly proud of her analysis.

“So you’re telling me that you don’t have closure with Bobby?” I asked, clearly trying to change the subject.

“How could I have any closure with that prick? He broke up with me for no reason! At least give me something I can process, work through, and then get over. Instead, I’m stuck wondering what the hell went wrong, or what I did, but I’m not any closer to an answer. So it just festers. Lingers.”

She blew out an exaggerated breath before continuing. “It just exists here”—she pointed at her heart—“and here”—she pointed at her head—“and I hate it. And it’s not even like I want him back, that’s not the issue. I just want to move past it, but it’s hard to put something behind you when you don’t have all the pieces of the damn puzzle. And you know how much I hate puzzles.”

“Makes sense.” I found myself nodding.

Kristy chuckled. “You think so? ’Cause half the time I think I’m crazy.”

“Oh no, you’re definitely crazy. But really, it’s pretty logical if you think about it. I guess it makes sense for me and Dalton too.”

I had to agree, even if part of me didn’t want to believe it entirely. Somewhere deep down I refused to accept that I’d been haunted by one person for this long simply because we didn’t have closure. But what if Kristy was right and it was as easy as that? What if all I’d needed this entire time was to see him so I could close the book on our relationship once and for all?

Cammie

“You finally ready?” Kristy asked from the other room.

“I think so. Come in here and make sure my makeup and hair look okay,” I yelled over the music I had playing in the bathroom. I smoothed the wrinkles from my red dress that hugged my curves in all the right places—if I did say so myself—and slipped into my heels.

Kristy walked in, took one look at me, and whistled. “You look so hot, Cammie.”

I glanced back at the mirror with a smile, noting the soft waves in my brown hair and the smoky eye makeup around my hazel eyes. “Are you sure? It’s not too much?”

“No. Dalton’s going to shit himself when he sees you.”

“Not if he’s not here, he won’t.”

“He’s going to be here. Why are you so annoyingly stubborn!” she shouted at me before taking a swig of her third cocktail of the night. “And what about me? How do I look?”

I looked her up and down, then tried to whistle, but ended up making a blowing/spitting sound instead. The leopard print dress she wore clung to her perfectly. Kristy always knew how to dress; nothing was ever too tight or too over-the-top. “You look as gorgeous as always.” And she did.

Kristy and I were often mistaken for sisters, but it wasn’t because we truly looked alike. We just had the basics in common—we were both five-foot-seven, both had long dark hair and light brown eyes. Calling us sisters was like calling every set of blond girls you saw twins.

“Let’s not keep the masses waiting any longer. You ready to do this?” she asked, and I reached for her drink before downing it. “Hey!” she yelled at me in mock anger.

“I needed that. Thanks.” I smiled before reapplying my red lipstick and putting the tube in my clutch. Sucking in a deep breath, I moved toward the door. “Here goes nothing.”

“Here goes everything.” She chuckled from behind me.

We made our way downstairs and headed toward the check-in table, where we were greeted by classmates who stood to hug us both before handing us our nametags and pointing us in the direction of the evening’s photographer.

Glancing down at my tag, I realized that it not only said my name, but it had a printed copy of my senior picture next to it. My seventeen-year-old face fake-smiled back at me, and I hurt for the girl I was during that time.

The day my senior pictures had been taken was not a good one. I had been crying all morning, but it was my last chance at being in the yearbook at all. It was either a puffy-eyed, red-faced photo, or none at all. And since it was my senior year, I figured I’d eventually regret it if my picture was one of the stock silhouettes. Looking at my sad face now, I wasn’t so sure I’d made the right choice.

“Did they really have to include our pictures? Ugh, I have bangs. Bangs!” Kristy rolled her eyes before pinning the tag to the bottom of her dress.

“I think it’s a great idea, actually. Not that I like this picture, but what the hell good is someone’s name if you don’t have their teenage face to put with it?” I said before pinning my tag a little above my waist. The top of my dress refused to be covered by anything other than Dalton Thomas’s hands.

What?
Well, that’s what it told me when we got ready.

Kristy and I waited as a couple got their picture taken at the photographer’s station before it was our turn. Digital cameras made everything super quick, and they were done in what seemed like two seconds before we took our place and stood on the X marked with masking tape on the floor.

“Let’s pretend it’s formal. I’ll be the boy and hold you like this.” Kristy wrapped her arms around my waist, and I laughed before tilting my head to the side overdramatically and smiling with way too many teeth showing.

The photographer laughed as he took our picture, and we walked away arm in arm toward one of the rear entrances, avoiding the check-in table and its long line.

“Ready?” She looked at me and I nodded in response as we walked through the open double doors into a large room that was decorated to the nines.

Flower centerpieces adorned the middle of each round table, and candles floated in tall cylinder vases that were filled with water. It felt like we were at a wedding reception, with the exception of the balloons. I craned my neck, taking in the sheer number of them that covered the entire ceiling, curled ribbons hanging from them in various lengths, tempting you to reach up and pull them down. More were scattered on the floor, the ribbons splayed out around them, just waiting to get caught in someone’s high heel. The rest were tied to the back of the chairs, like you would see at a kid’s birthday party. Every single chair had a balloon.

“It looks like a balloon factory threw up in here,” I said, raising my voice over the soft music that played in the background.

“No shit. And isn’t it a little early for the let’s-get-drunk-and-fuck mood lighting?” Kristy asked, noting the room’s already semi-darkened state.

Glancing across the space, I couldn’t help myself as I scanned the room for that one particular person. After a quick sweep of the area, I determined that he wasn’t here yet, if he showed up at all.

“Hey, girls! So good to see you.” A busty woman came up and hugged each of us as I glanced at her nametag, thankful again for the senior picture that it included.

“Hi, Teresa! It’s so nice to see you. How are you?”

Teresa regaled us with the woes of being married—and divorced—already. She had two kids, was now a single mom, and worked full time at a thankless job. Her words, not mine. Apparently she had married her high school sweetheart, Jim, someone I couldn’t quite remember, but was told I’d know him if I saw him. Then she launched into an emotional diatribe about how he had better not show up to this event tonight because he was supposed to be watching the kids, and she wanted to have one nice night without him rubbing his new life in her face. She claimed the last thing she could handle would be seeing his worthless ass here with his new nineteen-year-old girlfriend.

Kristy politely excused us after that.

“That was fun.” I widened my eyes in mock disbelief of my own words.

“She seems really happy.” Kristy mimicked my facial expression, and I laughed.

“Nineteen-year-old girlfriend, though? That’s horrible. What is it with guys?” I added with a frown.

“They’re wildly insecure and can’t stand getting older. We handle it with grace, dignity, and Botox.” She flipped her hair and smiled. “They handle it with new cars, new girlfriends, and Viagra.”

I laughed at her assessment and wanted to disagree, but couldn’t. “We should find somewhere to sit. I feel exposed standing here, like we’ll attract more horror stories.” I glanced around, more than ready to find our table.

“Right. ’Cause no one will be bitter or crazy if we’re seated at a table,” Kristy said sarcastically, and I made an annoyed face at her.

I had no idea what direction to head in, so I didn’t move. “Where should we go?”

She looked around the room, scanning the occupants through narrowed eyes. “I see seats over at Jenna Carlson’s table.”

“How the hell do you recognize everyone?” Even though most of these faces were on Facebook every day, they still looked different all dolled up, not Photoshopped, and in person. Not to mention the fact that I was terrible with names and faces.

“It’s a gift,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go sit with over there, okay?”

“Sounds fine to me.”

I barely remembered Jenna Carlson, but I knew I didn’t dislike her. To be honest, I disliked very few people in high school. Unless you gave me a reason to hate you, I simply didn’t.

Jenna stood up from her chair and squealed like an overly exuberant sorority girl at the sight of us, and I fought off the urge to run in the opposite direction.

“Oh my God! Oh my God! It’s Cammie and Kristy! You two look amazing and exactly the same! Wow! Don’t you age? How have you been? It’s been too long!”

She continued to shout out rapid-fire questions, and her smile was so big I thought her cheeks might split. But when she opened her arms, I gave in to her enthusiasm and hugged her back.

“You look great too,” I said as I glanced around the room. “Actually, everyone looks pretty great, to be honest.” I reached for one of the glasses of water on the table and gulped some down.

“Especially us girls,” Jenna said before laughing a little too loudly and sitting back down.

I glanced over at Kristy, who shrugged her shoulders and forced a fake smile as she sat down beside me.

“Do you know if Dalton’s going to be here tonight?” Kristy asked Jenna, and I almost spit my water all over the two of them with my surprise.

Jenna developed a crease between her pretty eyes. “Dalton? Gosh, I don’t know. No one’s really heard from him since graduation. He sort of disappeared, but I mean, he was our class president so he has to be here, right? God, he was so hot.”

I wanted to disagree, to argue, because Dalton wasn’t really “so hot,” but then again he was. That damn personality of his made him so much more attractive. Why couldn’t I hate him? I really wanted to hate him, although I knew hating him wouldn’t solve anything.

“I know you work at the radio station, Cammie. How is it? Is it as fun as it sounds?” Jenna asked, still smiling.

“It’s awesome. I love it.”

“John and Tom are so funny. I listen to them every morning on my way to work. I hear them talk about you sometimes and I’m always like,
Oh my God, I know her
, to myself, you know? ’Cause I’m like, in my car, by myself and stuff.” Jenna giggled again and I wanted to stab myself in the ear with a fork.

“Yeah, they’re pretty funny. They love to make fun of me,” I said, trying to smile politely.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot!” Her eyes widened, and she leaned forward to tap me on the arm. “Who were you talking about having a crush on? When they were asking you about the guy from high school, who was it? I was racking my brain trying to think about who you dated back then, but I kept coming up empty, just like that caller. All I kept thinking of was that one guy from the band that you loved. Remember that?” Then she laughed, a high-pitched trilling sound that made me want to smack her.

“I remember,” I said as I forced another smile. “But I wasn’t talking about anyone. I was just making it up. We do that sometimes for the show.”

The guys had told me to tell my classmates that I had lied if I got too uncomfortable with their questions after our segment, but I somehow felt like I was betraying the integrity of the show.

“You guys make stuff up? Nuh-uh. Really?” Her head tilted to the side, and she looked genuinely confused.

“Only sometimes,” I said, trying to convince her. I didn’t want her to think what she listened to each morning was completely made up or fake, although most people would never believe how much of it was actually scripted and how many calls were planned. That was my secret to keep.

“So you didn’t have a crush on anyone?” She frowned, seeming almost sad as she stuck out her bottom lip.

“Sorry.”

“Darn. I was really curious about that!”

Getting Jenna to jump to a new topic was as easy as introducing one to her. Thank God Kristy asked her what she did for work, which launched Jenna into disclosing the fact that she was a hair stylist and that she would love to do our hair—not that we needed it, of course—but if we ever wanted. When two new couples joined our table, the conversation started again. Introductions were made, catching up was easy, and we all started sharing memories.

That was the thing about high school and the people from it—being around them was usually pleasant and comfortable. Whenever I was in social settings, usually for work, I was guarded. The people I met were strangers, people I knew nothing about and who knew nothing about me. They knew only what I chose to tell them and vice versa.

But if I ever ran into anyone from high school, it was a completely different story. My walls immediately came crashing down, and a blanket of comfort and familiarity enveloped me as I opened up. Even if I didn’t really associate with the person during those high school years, it didn’t matter. I still felt like we knew things about each other that others didn’t, that we were connected in some way by this invisible cord of memories. It wasn’t logical, but it was how I tended to feel.

Maybe it was because I didn’t have to pretend like I was perfect, or that my life had always been filled with sunshine and rainbows. Anyone who went to school with me knew the truth, whether I wanted them to or not. They had all watched me fall apart my junior year, a year that ripped apart my stable world and replaced it with something unbalanced, like the way a top starts to teeter violently to each side before it falls down completely. That had been me. I had been a top, waiting to fall. But Dalton came along and caught me.

I found my gaze pulled to the entrance each time someone new walked through it, even as those newcomers became fewer and further between with each passing minute. Dalton still hadn’t arrived, as far as I could tell. Maybe he really wasn’t coming.

Servers in black suits began to make their way through the room, delivering food to each table, and my focus was momentarily diverted from the door to my plate. I was starved.

“This salad is so good. I know it’s just salad, but my God.” Kristy moaned as she bit into another forkful.