Taken In by the Pack: Second Chances (2 page)

I opened up one of my textbooks and began to read. I hadn’t even gone a whole page before I realized I hadn’t actually retained a single word. I sighed and went back up to the beginning, and read it again. I still had no idea what the page said. I tried a third time, and when I still couldn’t recall even a little of it, I groaned and put the book aside.

Apparently the only memory my brain wanted to retain today was Bryson’s face, sharply shadowed in the morning sun.

That was
not
going to help my grade point average! Or anything else, honestly.

I took out my notebook to go over what notes I had managed to take during this morning’s class, only to realize I had absolutely no memory of the lecture at all. I hadn’t expected to retain much, but I didn’t remember it
at all
. Worse still, my notes were dismally sparse. I would have to ask Angie if I could borrow her notes, so I could at least get the gist of what had been gone over.

Well, reviewing these pathetically sparse notes for a lecture I couldn’t remember was an exercise in complete futility. I frowned, packing my books back up. I sat back, finishing off my cocoa, though I packed up my cookie and put it in my bag for later.

Why was this hitting me so hard? I had thought I was over him years ago, by now. Mostly, I suppose, because with the way he just up and disappeared without a word, I assumed something awful must have happened, and he must have been far away, maybe in witness protection or something. Seeing him there, like any other student at the university, less than an hour from home… I just couldn’t make it fit. It didn’t make any sense.

Why was he there? Why didn’t he let me know where he was, if he was so close? Had I really meant nothing to him?

I considered going to the gym as I usually did a couple of times a week, but when my tummy grumbled loudly, I realized it was getting late and I’d hardly eaten anything at lunch. I returned my empty mug to the counter with a smile and a wave to the barista, and went out to my car. I didn’t feel like cooking anything — the way my mind was right now, I’d probably turn whatever it was into charcoal anyway — so I decided to go to the Applebee’s that was relatively nearby.

❖ ❖ ❖

Since attempting to study had failed so miserably, I decided to try something for enjoyment. I fished my latest book, a fun sci-fi romance, out of my bag and went inside.

The rather round lady by the hostess podium near the door looked up from picking under one overly-long, bright pink artificial nail with another, scanning me up and down.

“’S’it just you tonight?”

No, I have a midget in my purse
, I thought acerbically. “Yes ma’am.”

She huffed as though resenting my audacity at making her actually do something, and led the way around the outer ring of tables, and stopped next to one that was at least cleared of the flatware of previous customers, and only mildly sticky. I gave her a similarly mild smile, and slid into the booth. At least the seat wasn’t sticky.

Gotta have
some
standards, I suppose
.

I was relieved when my waitress proved to be a relatively perky brunette with her hair up in a no-nonsense kind of ponytail. I ordered an iced tea and a salad, then pulled out my book to read while I waited.

I looked up from the words with a smile and nod when she set my tea on the table, before really getting engrossed in the book. It was a relief to actually be able to focus on
something
.

I expected a fairly considerable wait — there was always a wait — before my food arrived, so I was surprised when only a few moments later, someone walked up to my table. I moved my tea out of the way abstractedly, and was thus even more surprised when, rather than setting down a plate, the person
sat down
in the booth opposite me. My gaze shot up from my book in confused indignation.

It was Bryson.

My heart and my stomach both started doing flip-flops inside me. The blood roared in my ears, the way you can hear the ocean in a seashell. I could not get over how gorgeous he had become. He’d been unusually handsome back in high school, I was the envy of nearly every girl in school, but now… now he was drop-dead magnificent. It was even more pronounced at close range than it had been earlier this morning.

He smiled, and my insides fluttered. It was a long moment of disbelieving staring before I managed to speak.

“What are you doing here?” To my chagrin, my voice quavered and broke.

He laughed softly, which pissed me right off. “After I saw you this morning, I figured you’d head back that way towards the parking lot after classes, so I waited until I saw you go by, and followed.”

I narrowed my eyes, but nodded, until a thought occurred to me. “But… I didn’t come straight here!”

“Yeah?” He didn’t seem to think there was any particular significance in that. I just gaped at him, unable to form a meaningful sentence. He had been following me? All afternoon? What had he been doing while I was in the coffee shop? I’d been in there a couple of hours, probably, and I know he had never come inside.

As I stared at him in perplexed exasperation, he turned in his seat to catch the eye of the waitress, lifting a hand to call her over.

“What are you doing?” I spluttered.

“Ordering, of course,” he replied so matter-of-factly, as though
obviously
he was joining me for dinner.

“Wha…? But… wait… No, you… gah!” I stammered, trying to object, but he just talked over me, ordering what sounded to me like enough food to feed three or four people.

I ground my teeth in frustration, and just glared at him.

❖ ❖ ❖

Since I clearly wasn’t getting rid of him, I lapsed into silence. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I was aggravated or relieved by that fact. Only one person in my life had hurt me more than the young man sitting on the opposite side of the booth from me; and yet, he was there. He was real, and here was right in front of me, his amber-brown eyes on me just as my darker chocolate brown ones were fixed on him.

It wasn’t too long before my salad arrived, and his food started arriving in a steady stream not long thereafter. I ate in silence, alternating between staring at my food as if this was the most fascinating salad ever placed in front of me, and studying him, and my feelings about him being there.

The way he was packing it in, he seemed to be enjoying his food with a hearty exuberance. It was a little disconcerting, actually, but at least he had good table manners. None of the smacking and slurping that so many guys devolved to when they enjoyed food.

When I finished my salad, I put my fork in the dish, tines down, and slid it to the edge of the table. I sat quietly for a long moment, waiting for him to finish, but then realized that was ridiculous. He had just inflicted himself on me whether I liked it or not; I didn’t owe him any politeness in return.

I folded my hands on the table, looking at him as sharply as I could manage.

“Bryson.” He looked up, smiling a bit, and swallowed his mouthful of food.

“Yes, Adalyn?”

I frowned at the faintly mocking tone in his voice. “Why are you here?”

He raised a brow, looking down at the multiple plates in front of him, and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“I’m eating dinner?” His reply was the epitome of innocent confusion. I didn’t buy it for a second.

“You know what I mean, Bryson. Why are you
here
? Why did you follow me?”

“Is it so wrong to want to see an old friend?”

I just stared, too shocked to respond for several heartbeats. “An
old friend
? Is that what I am? Don’t friends usually keep in contact when they up and leave town with no warning? For that matter, do friends even leave town without warning?” If my tone was rather acidic, well, I didn’t think anyone could blame me.

To his credit, he actually flinched, his gaze lowering to his plates for a long moment. “Probably not. But everyone is capable of making mistakes, right?” He looked back up at me, his expression boyish and almost pleading.

I sighed heavily, frustrated. “Are you going to tell me why you’re here?” I asked sharply.

“Come on, Ada, I told you already. I just wanted to see you.”

“You haven’t come to see me — or even so much as call me — for the last few years. Yet apparently you’ve been here barely an hour away. Why start now?”

He grimaced slightly but didn’t answer.

I scowled and didn’t even try any further to get answers. I flagged down the waitress for my check — I certainly wasn’t paying for the ridiculous amount of food he’d just made disappear. When she returned, he grabbed it out of the waitress’s hand before I could take it. I started to protest, but then shrugged. It wasn’t worth the argument, and my wallet would certainly appreciate it.

I managed a brusque “Thanks,” as I grabbed my purse and book, and stood.

“Adalyn…” he started, and for a moment I thought he was going to reach to grab my hand, but he didn’t.

“Yes?”

He seemed torn for a moment, but then finished rather lamely, “Take care of yourself, okay?”

I looked at him for a long moment. “Yeah,” I agreed, then turned and made my way to the door.

Once I got to my Prius, I just sat for a long time, shaking a bit, before finally turning it on and heading for home. It felt like a very, very long drive.

❖ ❖ ❖

Though it felt like several hours at least, I was through my front door less than fifteen minutes later. I tossed my book bag in the corner dispiritedly, and headed straight for the bathroom. My apartment was tiny, barely bigger than a dorm room with an added little kitchen/living room combo, but it was mine, and private — including the bathroom — unlike a dorm room.

I chucked my clothes as unceremoniously as I had the book bag. I turned on the hot water, and while I waited I brushed out my long, boring brown hair, then climbed into the shower.

I was finished with the necessities pretty quickly, but I stayed in the shower for quite a while, trying to relax. It wasn’t until the water started getting cold that I finally turned it off and stepped onto my ridiculously plush, bright pink cotton bath mat. It was so silly looking, but it made stepping out of the shower so much more pleasant.

I looked at myself critically in the mirror, trying to see myself with honest eyes. Not that I expected to see anything amiss, but it was a regular ritual. I was pretty enough, a heart shaped face framed by my straight dark hair. I rarely wore any more makeup than a little eyeshadow and lip gloss, maybe some eyeliner; I didn’t need it, really.

I had always enjoyed athletics but didn’t actively pursue them, and my body reflected that; strong enough, but still slender, sleek. I wished sometimes that my hips and chest were a little more pronounced, but not so much that I was actually unhappy with what I did have.

Once I was satisfied that I had given myself a critical appraisal, I combed out my hair again, slapped on some moisturizer on my face, arms, and legs, and went into my bedroom, pulling on a pair of soft cotton-knit boxers and a tank top.

I went back out front, grabbing a handful of grapes, and retrieved my book from my book bag.

I returned to my bedroom and flopped back on my bed, opening to where I had left off when I’d been interrupted by Bryson at dinner.

Bryson
… I sighed, popping a grape into my mouth, staring at the book but only seeing his face instead of the words.

I had been so head-over-heels in love with him when we were dating. He’d been sweet, he’d been strong, he’d been gorgeous, and he’d been mine. He had been everything a high school girl could want, he was perfect. We had been perfect together.

Until one day, he didn’t show up for school. I’d gone to his house that afternoon, to see if he was sick or something, but there was no one home. I’d been so worried; had there been an accident? Was he in the hospital and I didn’t even know it? I tried his cell (maybe a few dozen times…), but there was no answer.

I’d spent that night worried sick, literally. When I got to school the next day, there was still no sign of him. Still no answer on his phone. Still no one at his house that afternoon. I’d been unable to eat, unable to sleep, totally unable to function. Where was he? What had happened?