Him

Him (chapter 5)

Present

Will walks with me to baggage claim. It is almost poetic. He doesn't have any checked luggage, only a small duffle-style carryon. As usual, I am the one with baggage both literal and figurative. As a frequent traveler, I normally don't check luggage but given the length of this trip, it is necessary. I secretly have a thrill in being able to use the big rolling suitcase that came with my set for the first time. I love my suitcases. I travel so much I splurged on hard-shelled cherry red ones. We wait near the mouth of the belt. I sense myself wanting to lean into him. This is madness. I first off cannot believe he was on my flight and now the fact that we are standing here, together, right now. We quietly wait for the first bag to drop.

I see him check his watch. "I feel awful for keeping you. Why don't you just go ahead? I can get a cab or figure out MARTA." There is no way I am riding the MARTA train, but maybe it will make Will think I know what I'm doing so he won't feel obligated to give me a ride.

"Sarah." His blue eyes study me. "Don't be silly. I'm not letting you get a cab."

"You're not letting me?"

He smirks at me.

"Fine, wait. Just don't be so bossy."

All at once, I'm in a giant bear hug of his arms. What? God, his chest is absurdly solid, and he smells heavenly. His arms release me, and he grins. "I've really missed you, Sarah."

It is like a punch in the gut. Being here, Will, all of these emotions. I am trying my best to maintain some semblance of composure around him. I say nothing, eyes glued to the mouth of the conveyor belt and nod. I'm too shitless to look into his eyes right now. He is just too familiar. I'm tense. I wonder if I look like a crazy person, all bunched up in the shoulders, standing next to Will with his easy confidence. It must be so simple for him. He's known how to command the attention of a room for as long as I've known him. I had the biggest crush on him during middle school and then high school and maybe now. Shit, don't judge.

He had been so popular at our school, but what really got me was how down to earth he was. We were paired up in English for a project. Our class was assigned a book, and in pairs, we had to create a physical description of the book, write a written report, and give an oral presentation. I still remember the first time he called me. He must have gotten my telephone number out of the school directory. I was rendered mute and could not speak. He thought there was a bad connection, hung up, and called back. Locating my ability to speak the second time around, we made plans for him to come over and work on the project. I had been surprised he didn't want me to go to his house. He seemed adamant about coming to mine.

I was embarrassed by my house and our belongings. I knew he lived in a really nice neighborhood. When he came over, he didn't seem to think anything of it, though, and I stopped worrying about it. He rode his skateboard over every afternoon for a week while we worked on our project. While I didn't feel weird about what he thought about my house by the end of the week, I was still nervous around him. He was so cute, and he always smelled good.

I would catch myself staring across the kitchen table at him, daydreaming about touching his hair. We hadn't presented our project, but on the day we finished our work, I was almost certain he would never call or come over again. I had been stunned when he showed up the next day, just wanting to hang out. Our friendship grew from there. Will played lacrosse and basketball, but otherwise, he seemed to live at my house.

I had random friends, but Will became my best friend. The crank sound of the belt coming to life snaps me back to reality. My suitcase is unfortunately not one of the first out but tumbles down not long after. When Will sees me reach for it, he beats me to it, collecting it instead. Good ole Will. He refuses my attempt to pull my own suitcase, opting to instead place his duffle on top and pull them together. I can see the logic in it, but it still annoys me for some reason. I'm bothered that he seems to be acting like we haven't missed a beat, like there hasn't been seven years since that night. I follow him out to the parking deck. He slows his steps so we can walk side by side.