Not a Reunion

Chapter 3

Thea

This cannot be real.

I'm dreaming. I haven't woken up this morning yet; I'm still in bed resting. But I'm not dreaming, am I?

I'm staring into the eyes of a man I used to love, a boy who I used to think was my everything. I'm staring into the eyes of a man I haven't seen in six years. I'm staring into the eyes of a boy who I haven't seen since the last time I kissed him in the airport. The boy is no longer standing in front of me; he is a man.

A full man with hair swooped away from his forehead, sitting in a way that seemed to have been perfected this morning. His blue eyes were so much brighter as he stared at me; the glasses he used to wear were long gone. His face was more mature; I didn't think it was possible, but he looked older. His face had been shaped in a way that made me feel as if he were a different person, but no, it was the same face.

He had just grown up and shaped up into a man who knew he looked good. The half smile on his face before I turned to him told me as much, a causal hand tucked in the pocket of his matching suit pant. The man standing in front of me was dressed in a suit that was perfectly tailored for him—not an inch out of place.

The suit sat perfectly on his arm, which was much broader; the cuff of it was perfectly cinched with a cuff link. The bodice of the suit hugged his body perfectly, leaving not much to the imagination. He looked good, and I had forgotten how to breathe.

My engagement ring scrapes his palm when I rip my hand out of his grip, not knowing how long we had been staring at each other. I place my hand over my other one and avert my gaze, every part of my body yelling for me to leave.

So I do, without once looking back up at the man whom I thought I wouldn't see ever again in my life, take a step back. My voice is controlled and perfected to stay this way even in my state of panic as I say, "Nice to meet you. I have to go."

I have to go.

I'm not breathing correctly; I can feel it hurting my chest. My chest was telling me that I needed to get out of here and give it the attention it needs to breathe properly, but I couldn't do that here. If I did that, then everyone who worked with me would see just how much I can hyperventilate as I try to find my breathing.

I angled my body away from the man, whose eyes were still on me from the way I felt his presence. I felt his eyes dig into the side of my face, but I couldn't look at him. I needed to go. I grab my friend's arm and say, "I need to get to work."

"Yeah, yeah," Particia says, and because she has more manners than I do, she angles her body back toward the man. "So, I guess we are leaving. We will see you around here, I guess."

"Yes," he answers, one word that is enough to make my heart want to shatter on its own. His voice is familiar; it tugs on my heart.

I love you.

You're so pretty, baby.

I'm in awe of you.

I feel lucky that you chose me.

I'll love you forever.

We will see each other again. I know it.

All his words, all of the things he had told me, all the things that were just for me, come back to me.

I place a hand on my chest and twist my full body around abruptly, my hair hitting me square in the face, but I couldn't care about that. I just needed to go. With what I hoped weren't hurried footsteps, I head to the staircase that leads right to this room and am running down the steps. I needed to go. I couldn't be here. I wanted to hear his voice—a voice that tears me apart.