We Go Way Back

chapter four

AT THE END of my shift at Angie's, I am buzzing with electric anxiety, my stomach hurts and I feel like I have to go to the bathroom despite going just five minutes ago. My mother texted me Corbin's number and she must've given him mine too, because I just got a text from him saying that he'll be arriving soon.

I have changed out of my uniform, but I still look awful: my hair is all frizzy - damned be this humid weather -, I have huge undereye bags that not even a pound of concealer could hide, and my clothes practically swallow me. Then, I am reminded that I shouldn't care what I look like, it's just dumb Corbin Paxton. He knew me when I was thirteen, had braces and my face was covered in acne, he's seen me at my worst.

That's what confuses me. He's seen me at my best and worst, we grew up together like cousins or even siblings would, and we're awful together. Out of all the kids, we're the ones that never got along well - even before what I call The Great Mistake of Lake Michigan -, and we had potential to be the best of friends. We grew up on the same street, we are relatively close in age, he was the cutest boy I had ever seen, but still, just explosiveness. We even went to the same high school for one year and acted like we had never seen each other and had no interest on doing so.

I feel much closer to Miles, but that's not surprising. Miles Paxton is the most laidback, fun, and interesting person. He speaks four languages, plays a panoply of instruments, does several radical sports, and works as a journalist, meaning that he is constantly travelling. When we play trivia games, I always call dibs on him as my partner, it's a sure win.

I get wholeheartedly why Rory fell for him. He's charming, exciting - and really smoking hot. Though, that is something that the two brothers share.

A ding pushes my musings to the back of my head. It's a text from Corbin, saying he's outside. My throat is tangled in tight knots, and I feel like pooping again - this is not good.

I shove my phone into my back pocket, hoist my bags on my shoulders and walk out. It's raining hard and through the heavy pour I can't see the car that's supposed to be waiting for me. I look around, the water soaking me to the bone, and find nothing. I am about to pull my phone and text him when a loud honk startles me. I turn to the sound and find, behind a cluster of trees, a tiny trace of light. Walking towards it, I realize that the light comes from a BMW car that has been parked far away from the front door. I squint my eyes; Corbin is on the driver's seat... Did he really expect me to find his car there?

I run to the passenger's side door and open it, climbing inside to shelter myself from the ruthless weather. I'm shaking and clattering my teeth together; my clothes are glued to my skin and my hair is dripping onto the seat. Corbin doesn't like that, because the first thing I notice is the side glance he shoots me.

My first thought is that he is uglier than he was three years ago. Then, I take a second look and realize that I was mistaken. He doesn't look worse, he just looks more adult, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I was used to a blonde, curly-haired boy with big, almond-colored eyes, but now he's different. His hair is shorter and gelled back and sideways. His eyes are shielded by a pair of wireframe glasses, and he swapped his band t-shirts for dress shirts and formal trousers. He looks like a dad and he's just a few months shy of twenty-four.

Maybe it's just the light that makes him look older, the orange lamps outside cast ghastly shadows over his face.

"Hi," he says curtly, starting the engine.

I buckle my seatbelt and lean against the door, dumbfounded by this strange being. It's like he got abducted by makeover-giving aliens.

"Hi," I retort in the same clipped tone. "How are you?"