Second Chance (14 page)

“She is hot,” Miles says,
gaping at her.
I have officially given up guessing his type
.
A month
ago
he dragged
me
to a gymnastics meet to watch a girl who was five feet tall
perform
acrobatic feats to bad music
.
She moved with so much e
lasticity it was uncomfortable to watch
.
I’m pretty sure it was her flexibility that lured
Miles
.
Cat Parker
is the exact opposite
, with
her black
combat
boots and
curvy shape
.

When a waitress takes our order,
Le
nny asks if we want to split a pitcher and I tell her only if it’s
non-alcoholic beer
.

“What
?
Don’t you have a fake
ID
?
” she
whispers
to me,
and I
remind her
I’m on
probation
for the rest of my
scholarship
-
endorsed
life
.
Miles and I each order sodas.

“I thought
your probation w
as for drugs?
” she
asks
.

“Alcohol is a drug,
Lenny,
” I
say,
although most people that live in a college town
would argue
that
alcohol is
as vital to consume on a daily
basis as
water
.
She
point
s out
she meant illegal drugs.

“I’m not twenty-one
,” I remind her
.
“It is illegal.”
 

“
Ugh, a
thletes,
”
she mumbles
.

Miles
shushes us
because
Cat’s s
peaking to
the
crowd
.
She
thanks us for coming and introduces her band
.
I scan the audience
and make eye contact with a cute
brunette
across the room
.
She smiles at me from the bar
.
She
’s
wearing knee high black boots and a short skirt and it’s pretty hot
.
I smile back.

Cat explains her next song
is a cover and
dedicated to
an experience she had with an unexpected
friend she m
ade
in Switzerland
.
She starts strumming
her guitar and I recognize
t
he riff for
Shelter
From T
he Storm
.
I wince a little because this song has always reminded me of Dylan
.

“Is it my imagination,” Lenny says, “Or is the bar slowly migrating
in our direction?”

Miles and I look around
at the room full of girls
and I point out we’re two of the only guys in the audience
.
Miles nods and says we should check out chick bands more often
.

“Speaking of women,
”
Miles
says
and looks at me
, “whatever happened with that girl
?
Dana
?
You haven’t mentioned her in
a while
.”
 

“Dylan,” I say.
J
ust the word on my tongue makes the edges of my brain sizzle
.
I take a sip of my drink and shake my head
.
“That’s over,” I say
.
Lenny’s mouth drops
open
and she reminds me I referred to Dylan as
t
he love of my life
.

“That was the pot talking,” I inform her
.
“I think I also vowed eternal love for
grilled cheese sandwiches
and
t
ate
r
t
ots.”

“The good
ol
’ days,” Lenny says with a smile
.
We’re all quiet for a few minutes
while we watch the band and absorb the sound
.
My mind starts to decompress; a natural reaction to live music
.
Cat
begins
another song, this one an original
.
Lenny
glances sideways at me and asks if I’m seriously over
Dylan
.
I nod a
nd it doesn’t feel forced
.

“I
haven’t seen
her since Christmas
,” I say
,
like that should explain it
.
Like time
can
erase feelings
.
“That was over four months ago.”

“True love knows no boundaries,” Lenny
mocks
.

“True love can take the hint
someone in Europe forgot you exist
,” I say
.

I glance around the bar. T
he room is filling
with people.
I notice a half dozen girls cuter than
Dylan
.
T
hey wear clothes that
actually
fit,
they comb their hair and look presentable and I can see their fingernails painted in bright colors
instead of embedded with dirt and sand
and chewed off
.
These are real women
.
Dylan was just a big kid.

I try to think of a word that defines
Dylan
.
She
isn
’t cute
.
Or pretty
.
Or hot
.
She’s
like
an abstract painting—
something that catches your eye and forces you to stop and study
it,
but it’s difficult to label what you see
.
All you know is you’re staring at some
thing
unique
.
It’s
interesting for a while
, but n
ow
I want a girl who attempts to be feminine
,
w
ho’s going to college and has realistic goals
.
Besides,
w
hy waste my time wanting the one woman I can never have
?

Lenny asks me what I would do if Dylan walked through the door, right now
.

“What would you say if she walked up to our table and said
she was passing through town?”

My eyes
fall back on the girl across the room and
she looks up at me and smiles
.
Game
on
.
I set my glass down and
look Lenny
straight
in the eyes
, giving her the same intense gaze I give
batters on the plate to
remind them who’s
in control
.
 

“I
’d
t
ell her to keep right on going,” I say
,
and stand up to go talk to this girl
.

DYLAN

I’m so tired I’m pretty sure I could sleep
standing up
.
Maybe I’ll try
.
I haven’t eaten a meal in
twenty-four hours
, except for a
Rold
Gold Snack Mix (
ranch
flavored) the airline so generously gave
us as a complimentary snack
to tide us
over
during
the ten hour flight from Zurich
to Chicago
.
Definitely satisfying
.

As I stand in line to board
my third
flight,
I try to remember where I am and where I’ve been
in
the last thirty hours
.
It started with a
5 a.m
. train ride out of Interlaken to catch a
9 a.m.
flight to Chicago
. 
I didn’t sleep a wink because two toddlers
on
the plane
decided to have alternating meltdown
s
.
I had a
three hour layover
before I caught
a flight to Dallas
.
N
ow,
o
nly
one hour and
forty
minutes of
air travel
separates me from
Gray
.