Second Chances (7 page)

“No,” R
eagan pouted.  “I just wanted to get closer to you.”

“Oh.” Allison
sat up on the ice.  She couldn’t believe they’d been lounging on the ice surface for the past few minutes. “Are you hungry?”

Reagan
sat up as well.  She fluffed at her hair, knocking a few bits of shaved ice from the back.  “Salad again?”

Allison
frowned guiltily.  “I’m sorry.  I haven’t been a very good hostess have I?”

R
eagan stood up on shaky skates and wiped at her backside and coat where ice shavings had collected from the fall.  “You’ve done an admirable job.  I know accommodating someone with special diet needs isn’t easy.  My dad lived with me for 18 years and even he had problems with it.”

Allison
allowed Reagan to help her to her skated feet.  They teetered once, threatening to spill back onto the ice, but Allison stuck her blades hard into the ice, determined not to fall again.  “You don’t have to be so nice to me, Reagan,” she murmured.  “I don’t deserve it.”

Reagan
gave Allison a lopsided grin.  “I know,” she agreed. “But I also know you’re working on it.”

+++++

By the time they left the ice rink, the afternoon sun had sunk lower in the sky.  Reagan squealed suddenly and ran off the sidewalk and onto the snowy campus green, which was currently covered in at least two feet of puffy snow.  She stopped and flopped backwards onto the ground, giggling manically.

“What are you doing?” Allison
asked, hugging herself as a brisk wind sliced through the New England afternoon.  She glanced around, feeling anxious about the few pairs of eyes trained on them from fellow students.  She really didn’t care what they thought, but old habits were hard to break.

“I’m making a snow angel, obviously.  Hop on in,”
Reagan crowed, “the snow’s great!“

“I’m
not
going to do that,” Allison stubbornly protested.  “I’ll get wet and cold.  And I’m already sore from ice skating.”

Reagan
flapped her arms and legs back and forth in the powdered snow.  “Don’t make me make a snow angel all on my own, Allison,” she pouted.

Allison
rolled her eyes and sighed.  “Fine,” she conceded, far too easily for her liking.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“You don’t know how to make a snow angel?” R
eagan asked, suddenly stopping her flailing. “Seriously.  Are you an alien?”

“Murphy, just tell me what to do,” Allison
snapped in an irritated tone.

“Just fall backwards,” R
eagan instructed as she went back to moving her arms and legs. 

Allison
warily eyeballed the frozen ground.  “Won’t it hurt?”

“The snow is soft,” R
eagan stated.  “It’ll break your fall.  It’s much better than falling on the ice.”

Allison
worried her bottom lip between her teeth and hesitated.

“Hurry up!” Reagan
urged.  “My butt is getting cold and wet.  Just fall already!”

Allison
sucked in a sharp breath.  She hated not being in control, and she hated that Reagan Murphy was bossing her around.  But more than anything, she didn’t want to look like a stick-in-the-mud.  That was the old Allison Hoge; that wasn’t who she was anymore.

Taking one las
t fleeting glance behind her, she closed her eyes, tipped back on her heels, and let herself fall.

+++++

The sound of hospital sirens screaming in the background made Allison wince.  The harsh fluorescent lights above hurt her eyes. EMTs rushed through the Emergency Room doors with someone laid out on a gurney.  From where she sat, she couldn’t make out the extent of the person’s injuries.  Doctors and nurses flooded to the scene yelling out codes from a secret language that she didn’t recognize.

She
felt a hand at her elbow. “At least you’re not that guy,” Reagan said in a quiet voice for only Allison to hear.

“But if I was, I’d actually get some attention,”
Allison scowled, equally quiet.

“Let me see it again,” R
eagan coaxed.

Allison
pulled the makeshift compress away from the back of her neck. Reagan brushed Allison’s long ponytail to the side.  A jagged red line marred her porcelain skin.  The bleeding had stopped, but the gash looked deep and would probably require stitches.

“I can’t believe you hit a rock,”
Reagan murmured.  Her fingertips were warm from being inside gloves, and Allison visibly shuddered at the tentative, gentle touch.  Reagan bit her bottom lip.  “I’m sorry.  Does it hurt?”

Allison
released a shaky breath.  “No,” she said through gritted teeth.  “It’s okay.  I’ve endured worse.” Her eyes snapped shut when Reagan’s fingers slid down the side of her neck.

“Have you ever had stitches before?”

Allison nodded, opening her eyes now that the wave of what she hoped was just nausea had passed.  “Once.  My cousin hit me in the head with a golf club when I was five.” She was constantly getting bumped and bruised when she was young.  Gracefulness had come late, despite the ballet and gymnastics and cheerleading.

Reagan
’s eyes bulged.  “What?”

Allison
shrugged.  “It sounds worse than it actually was.  I got cut, they stitched me up, good as new.”  She brushed her thin bangs away from her forehead.  “That’s what this scar is from.”

Reagan
inspected the tight white line, even whiter than Allison’s already pale skin, just above her left eyebrow.  Without asking permission, she ran her thumb along the slight indent.  “So that’s what’s wrong with you.”

Allison
pulled away.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I can blame your insanity on getting hit in the head when you were young,”
Reagan responded cheekily.

Allison
turned the conversation back to Reagan.  She knew she loved to talk about herself. In high school, it seemed to be her favorite topic.  “Do you have any scars?”

“None that are visible,”
Reagan quipped.  She smiled slyly.

Allison
rolled her eyes.  “You are an incredible dork.”

“Oh, look,”
Reagan sing-songed. “I think a new scar is forming right now.”

“
Allison Hoge?” a nurse with a clipboard announced.

At her name, Allison
stood up a little too quickly. Her knees wobbled when the blood rushed to her head. 

Reagan
shot to her feet and steadied her.  “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine,”
Allison insisted.  She felt Reagan’s hand at her waist.  It felt warm.  Had she always been this touchy?  She couldn’t remember.

“Do you want me to go in with you?”
Reagan had started to stroke innocently near her hipbone.  It was distracting.

Allison
swallowed down an emotion she wasn’t prepared to identify.  “No.  I’ll be fine.”

+++++

The sky was a dark purple.  Reagan looked up into the night sky and breathed out, watching her breath smoke in front of her face.  Her lungs burned from the late winter chill, but she didn’t mind.  It was a familiar feeling, reassuring, and it reminded her of home.

The railr
oad platform creaked beneath Reagan’s feet.  There was something quant about the Providence train stop, like it had been cut out of a Norman Rockwell painting.  Tall, spindly trees were painted with tiny white lights, leftover from the winter holiday.  It was a far cry from the chaos of Grand Central Station to which she’d become accustomed. A light snow had begun to fall on their walk from the Emergency Room to the train station.  The tiny snowflakes melted almost as soon as they landed, but over time it was sure to accumulate.

“You didn’t need to walk me to the train station.”

Allison shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her wool jacket.  “Well, after such an eventful weekend, it would feel a little anti-climatic to say our goodbyes at the Emergency Room.” The doctors had quickly and efficiently stitched up her head wound, but they’d had to wait for so long in the waiting room that by the time they’d exited the doctor’s office, it had been time for Reagan to catch her train back to New York.

“It would have served me right,”
Reagan said glumly.

Allison
snagged Reagan’s elbow, partially spinning her around.  “Hey,” she said softly.  Reagan didn’t think she’d ever heard her so soft-spoken.  “It wasn’t your fault, okay?” Allison’s hazel eyes searched Reagan’s face.  “How were you to know my head would find the one rock for miles?”

Her words brought a small smile to
Reagan’s lips.  “I guess we’re lucky you have such a hard head.”

Allison
smirked. “Don’t get cocky with me, Murphy,” she teasingly warned.  “It might not have been your fault, but I’m still gonna milk this for as long as I can.  I had to get
stitches
, after all.”

They stood in silence on the platform, both distracted by disparate thoughts. When
Reagan’s train arrived, Allison turned to face her weekend guest. “Thank you for today,” she said in a quiet, yet genuine voice.

“Even though it ended with you in the hospital?”
Reagan deflected.  There was something about the look on Allison’s face that made her nervous. But she looked so thoughtful, Reagan didn’t want to chatter aimlessly.

Allison
brushed away a few snowflakes that had settled on Reagan’s cheek and eyelashes.  She thought Reagan looked beautiful in this light. Before she realized what she was doing, Allison was leaning close and pressing her lips against Reagan’s.  The touch was light, her lips barely grazing Reagan’s own.  She slowly pulled back, face emotionless.

“What was…you just…”
Reagan sputtered.  She paused and inspected Allison’s features before her nose crinkled. “Are you
sure
you don’t have a concussion? Amnesia maybe?”

Allison
smiled mildly. “Your train’s here.”

Reagan
stared back blankly, the words not making any sense, but she jumped when the train’s whistle blew its final boarding call.  She spun on her heels and climbed aboard the train that would take her back to New York. 

Once in the train,
Reagan sat down, taking a window seat.  Outside, through the frost-tinted windows she could just make out Allison’s silhouette.  The window was too distorted, however, to see her face clearly and her body language wasn’t helping either.  She was just
standing there
.

The train lurched forward and started on its way. 
Allison brought a hand up, her fingers motionless in her winter gloves, in a silent sign of parting. 

Reagan
raised her hand to the window, but her fingers never made it.  Instead, they stopped and touched her lips, still tingling from the feeling of Allison Hoge’s mouth.

+++++

Allison dead-bolted the front door behind her and released a shuddered breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.  She couldn’t honestly remember how she’d made it back home.  Her brain was loud and confused.

“Hey,
Allison.”

The voice coming from behind her made her jump.  She spun around quickly to see one of her roommates, Meghan, eating noodles from a Chinese takeout box.

“Jesus, you scared me,” Allison breathed.

Meghan frowned guiltily.  “Sorry.”

Allison threw her keys onto the small table in the front foyer that served as a catchall for keys and mail. “No, it’s okay.  I just didn’t think anyone was home.”

“Where were you all day?” Meghan asked, resting her chopsticks into the takeout container. “I texted a few times to see if you wanted to order Chinese with me.”

“I was in the library.  Down in the basement stacks.” The lies easily flowed off her tongue. “I must not get reception down there.”

“In the library on a weekend?” Meghan clucked her tongue disapprovingly. “Girl, we’ve gotta get you a social life.”

Allison tensed and rapidly worked the muscles in the back of her jaw to avoid snapping at her roommate. “Midterms are coming up,” she reminded her in a strained voice. “I don’t want to fall behind.”

“All right.” Meghan shrugged and dropped the topic. “I’ll be watching a movie in my room if you need me.”

Allison released a long, tired sigh and let her shoulders slump when Meghan turned the corner to go back to her room.  She took off her boots and methodically lined them up next to the other shoes near the front door.  She walked past the kitchen and wrinkled her nose at the permeating scent of Chinese takeout coming from the room.  Meghan must have ordered stinky tofu again.  Both of her roommates hated cooking for themselves; it was a wonder they weren’t 100 pounds heavier and perpetually poor from all the delivery food.