When Stars Align

2: a Latte of Regret

EMERY
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The late afternoon sun poured through the canopy of oak trees that flanked the university quad, creating mottled shadows on the old brick sidewalk. I adjusted the strap of my backpack, the fabric biting into my shoulder, and cast my gaze across the lawn. The typical hum of student discussion, the occasional yell of a Frisbee game, and the rustle of leaves stirred by a mild breeze filled the surrounding air.

I walked slower than usual today because my legs felt heavy. My phone rang in my pocket, but I focused on the present moment. Ahead, the university's famed clock tower loomed, its aged stone face engraved with years of history and endless memories. Both outstanding and horrible. I felt the cool metal of my keys on my fingertips as I moved my hands deeper into my jacket pockets.

Then I spotted him.

Jaxon stood on the far side of the quad, surrounded by his regular crowd. His laughter burst out, a sound I hadn't known I'd missed until now. He wore his letterman jacket, which always made him appear taller and broader—more like the star athlete everyone else saw and less like the guy I used to study with in the library until the lights went out and we were left in half-shadows.

For a moment, his blue eyes connected with mine across the distance. Something flickered there, perhaps recognition, surprise, or remorse, and vanished as soon as it appeared. My breath caught, but I pushed myself to continue, even if my steps slowed.

He looked away at first, then back at the girl sitting next to him. She was someone I had seen before, even if I didn't know her. Her blonde locks flowed in lustrous waves, not one hair out of place. You had to ask yourself whether she ever experienced a bad day as she was so perfect.

She wore a light blue sweater that fitted her thin frame, the color standing out against her fair complexion, and her makeup was so precise that it felt like a personal assault to my rushed attempts that morning. She drew closer to Jaxon, her laughter ringing like bells, and placed a hand on his arm, fingers curling on the fabric of his sleeve.

The sight of them together twisted something deep within me. My memory confused me, rushing back to evenings spent on the rooftop of his old residence, sharing secrets and anxieties beneath a starry sky.

I could still hear his voice, making promises neither of us was ready to realize we couldn't make. He used to look at me like I was the most important person on the planet. Now all I noticed was his broad shoulders, slightly slouched as if he was carrying a weight he had informed no one about.

Jaxon fidgeted with his phone, continually swiping his thumb across the screen, although he didn't appear to be reading or entering anything. He looked up sometimes, smiling at whatever she said, but there was a tightness around his eyes that did not match the curve of his lips. His laughing was loud and effortless, yet it seemed off—too harsh and trained. I recognized that chuckle; it was the one he used to convince everyone, including himself, that everything was alright.

Her hand moved up to his shoulder, gripping softly, and I couldn't take my gaze away. I felt a surge of envy, something sour and unsettling in the pit of my stomach. I told myself that was ridiculous, and I had no right to feel anything. Not after how things ended after I left. But the agony was unmistakable and sharp, striking through the thin mask of indifference.

Jaxon chuckled again, but this time his gaze was unfocused, as if he were staring through her rather than at her. For a fleeting second, I thought I saw something—regret, perhaps, or the remains of an old wound that never quite healed. But then she said something else, and his focus returned to her.